Here is what I wrote:
There were three weeks between the time of the great trauma
of September 11 and our spiritual direction session. Yet, the effects had not worn off, nor I
suspect, they will never be far from our consciousness. As I thought about our upcoming meeting, I
wondered what would be different this time.
I thought back over the preceding weeks and was aware that during the
immediate post-attack period I was constantly in prayer. Or at least I thought of it as prayer, and it
felt so.
Even when I was not consciously in verbal or mental prayer
utterances, I could not escape the gnawing feelings inside. Tears came, stories touched me and
contrasting feelings surged through my innards – often just a sense of
wondering – almost a blank – asking what the meaning of this could possibly be.
No answers to the questions of why.
I was aware at times that this was prayer as I tried to continue my
daily routine. Usually, verbal
interactions were inadequate. “It’s
really unbelievable, isn’t it?” “It’s
terrible, just awful!”
What kept coming to me was something I read recently about
prayer being our deepest desire and longing coming up against the deepest needs
of the world. In that sense there is no
escaping prayer. There were, in fact,
more calls for prayer from public figures during this time than I can ever
remember hearing before. I wondered
“what are people doing now when they pray?”
Perhaps the hardest this to get into my mind is the idea
that prayer is initiated by the Spirit.
All my life I have heard and followed the opposite approach that says I
have to - “go to prayer”, “Pray for so and so”, “Let us pray”, or “Don’t forget
to say your prayers”.
Marjorie Thompson wrote, “Like the spiritual life itself,
prayer is initiated by God. No matter
what we think about the origin of our prayers, they are all a response to the
hidden workings of the Spirit within” (Soul Feast, p. 31) So I think that what
has been happening for me is simply an attuning of self to the internal
communication and ponderings already going on, that is, the working of the
Indwelling Spirit.
Most of the members of the group are pastors. They are used to prayer, frequently called
upon to lead in prayer, and, I think, they are practitioners of daily prayer in
their own lives. They are accustomed to
voicing prayers of petition, praise, adoration, thanksgiving and
confession. But the usual list does not
include the prayer of lamentation. The
many prayers voiced during these days publicly, were about petition and
intercession – supplications for the suffering of survivors and the
nation.
This is a time of deep pain, mourning and questioning – also
of anger and calls for revenge. Yet is
it not also a time to listen, to be still, to be “attentive to the presence of
God”? as Douglas Steere calls it.
Before we began our usual time of silence, I asked who
wanted to go first today. Even as I
asked that I knew I wanted Jane to be the first to share and I asked her
if she would. She is always very honest
about her personal spiritual life, and I suspected she would set a good
tone. So, after ten minutes of silence,
she began, and it was so – a good tone.
There are five in this group besides me as the
facilitator. I have been with three of
them for a year already, but the other two are recent members. They are just finding their way as to how
this method works, so I wanted them to have the chance prayerful listening before they
talked.
Jane shared her feelings of horror and sadness in reaction
to the attacks. In
addition, being single and living alone, she has felt isolated and lonely
throughout these days and weeks. Being
the only woman in the group and the only single person, her sharing often
reflects this reality. I am not sure if
the rest of us can fully empathize or understand her, though she often
expresses how meaningful the spiritual direction group is for her.
One of her comments stands out. She said that even though she led others in
prayer during those days, as expected by virtue of her role as pastor and
chaplain, she found she did not easily pray herself. She expressed some of the same numbness I
have felt; a sense of being transfixed while watching and hearing about this
tragedy day after day. I got the
feeling, though it was not explicitly stated, that the others identified
strongly with what Jane said.
The time of response and feedback was quite tender and
respectful, reflecting what we have heard so much about since the attacks – that
life is precious and fragile, and that we are now more mindful of how special
and sacred our relationships are.
William Barry says that if we understand prayer as a
personal relationship and follow through on the consequences of that
definition, then we will find that strong emotions, even strongly negative or
painful emotions, are not foreign to prayer.
Indeed, they are the stuff of prayer.
(Paying attention to God, p. 28) In fact, I have found myself shouting
out, verbally or internally, at something or someone in times of anguish –
letting go of anger, frustration and sadness. Was it God I was complaining to?
As each of the others took their turn at sharing and the topics
varied – they were not all focused on the tragedy and its aftermath. One talked about a delicate situation in his
marriage, another about the sacredness and beauty of creation as seen through
the window now and each day this autumn, and yet another about his continuing
struggle with his pastor position and life transition. It was as if the sharing from Jane and our
silence and verbal reactions after that had been a catharsis and expressed for
all of us something that struck a chord of truth. The time together was special while still being
about the ordinariness of our lives.
Reflection:
I have spent much time in solitude this month (we were
living on our farm in Minnesota and some days went by without seeing any other
people while Judy was at work). I threw
myself into hard physical work, but sometimes just sat gazing at the view –
looking out on the Aaker farm in the valley below where my ancestors came and
settled 150 years ago. And while uttering short words of supplication, I have been in
silent wordless prayer too – at times feeling the presence of God and at other
times not so much. I like the notion of simultaneity;
that we can be active and focused on outer tasks while at the same time our
inner self is experiencing the Indwelling Spirit. Sometimes I feel as if I try to grasp and
understand too much. During the last
several years I have read many books on prayer and meditation, gone on
retreats, met with a spiritual director, and listened to many talks –
worshipped regularly. Yet, I like of the
simple answer expressed well by John Main, who wrote: “Meditation is not
learning to do, it is learning to be. It
is learning to be yourself, to enter into the gift of your own being”.
Last year at a retreat where centering prayer was being
introduced for the first time to some of the participants, one man, who was
about the most extraverted person I have met, asked what the goal or benefit of
this silent prayer was supposed to be.
Of course, the answer he got was not very satisfactory to him, that
there is no explicit goal – we are to be in the “presence”, and that is all it is.
Reading the spiritual leaders and saints of the centuries, I
have come to believe that the experience of a “felt union with God” is rare and
illusive, even for lifelong practitioners, but when it happens you really know
it as the Divine presence. When I
recently heard someone explain that for her the purpose of this kind of prayer
and devotion is, ultimately, service to others, that helped put things in
perspective for me. My life has taught
me that there is much satisfaction in service to other, and I will continue to
strive to follow Jesus in that way as long as I am able – even though inadequate and insufficient to
meet the great needs of the world. The
more I study and practice meditation, the more I realize the importance of
simplicity. Indeed, that is really what I seek – simplicity.
Again, to quote from John Main, the English Benedictine
priest, “As a goal simplicity is something very unfamiliar to us. Most of us are carefully trained to see that
only complexity is really worthy of respect.
To understand simplicity, we have to enter into it ourselves. We have to enter the simplicity of God and be
simplified ourselves in the process”.
(Moment of Christ: The Path of Meditation, p 26)
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