Lent Talks 2013 – ‘Prayer and…..’

Introduction

Several years ago, I had a conversation with an elderly member of the congregation at Ely Cathedral. We got on to talking about prayer and how hard it sometimes was to pray. As the conversation continued, I was surprised at some of the questions I was being asked…. Here was a faithful churchgoer of, probably, sixty or more years who was relishing the opportunity to talk about something that she had done for almost the whole of her life. Something she said has stuck with me: “You see, Vanessa – I come to the cathedral every week; just as I’ve been to church almost every Sunday of my life. I join in the hymns. I join in the words. But nobody has ever really taught me how to pray. People just think that because you’ve been coming for so long - you ‘know’. But I don’t. And after sixty years, I’m too ashamed to ask...” I left that conversation not ashamed of that person’s ignorance, but ashamed of myself (and on behalf of my fellow clergy) that we should so ‘short-change’ our congregations that we fail to give them the basic tools they need to develop a praying life.

Over the next five weeks, I hope – in a small way – to ‘do penance’ for our corporate failure at Ely. In November last year, as part of the ‘Aspects of Spirituality’ course, I spoke on ‘Prayer and the Trinity’. What became clear to me in the question time which followed my lecture was the deep thirst amongst those who were present to speak and learn more about prayer – and it is on the back of that experience that I have decided to offer these short talks during Lent. But they will not be like the lecture I gave in November. For a start, they will be shorter. More importantly, they will be more practical than theological; more pragmatic than reflective – though I hope they will still be ‘spiritual’ in the best sense of that word, and will contain elements of all those things. My key concern in this series is to ensure that nobody here will be able to say in five, ten, twenty or fifty years’ time – “Nobody has ever really taught me how to pray.” For although prayer is often not easy, there are very simple and practical ways in which we can help ourselves by thinking about how we pray and by exploring some ‘tools’ which may help us as we do.

But a word of warning: prayer is gift. It is the gift of God to us, through us and in us. For we can only pray as the Holy Spirit who dwells within us makes it possible. God speaks to God from within. As it says in Romans 8, “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” (Romans 8.26-7)

Ultimately, it is God who makes prayer possible. But we can help ‘make the connection’ with him by developing a discipline, a framework – and the tools - for prayer which work for us. To repeat an image I’ve used here at the Minster before, prayer is like stepping on to God’s moving walkway - just like those ones you find at big airports. You’ve got to want to go in God’s direction, but once you do – once you step on - God carries you and helps you on the way. And we also need to recognise that what worked thirty years ago may no longer be the best way for us to connect with God today.

This course will, therefore, go back to basics. Over the coming weeks, we shall explore: Prayer and place; Prayer and time; Prayer and silence; Prayer and the senses; and finally, Prayer and words. I will not be offering profound insights from the spiritual masters – although I hope you will detect their influence on the way. What I will try to offer is some basic teaching in the hope that there may be something fresh, something new, something as yet ‘undiscovered’ which catches your imagination and brings new life to your praying and your prayers this Lent and in the days and weeks to come.

So we begin….

1. Prayer and place

Where do you pray? Think about it…..

There will be as many answers to that question as there are people here in the Minster. What is clear is that all of us pray in certain places. They may not be the same places. They may not be the same places every day or every week. But all of us pray somewhere. It is, perhaps, to state the obvious, but prayer is located; because we are located. As human beings, we live in a created world as created beings. We are bound by space and time. And that both limits us an enables us. If we were spirits, then prayer (if we prayed at all) would be very different – perhaps more like entering into some cosmic ‘soup’ with no bounds and no identifiable beginning or ending. Instead, prayer is an activity which we undertake within the constraints of the physical world and within the passage of eternity. And that means that there are both places – and times – when we pray. We’ll think about Prayer and time a bit more next week. For tonight, I want to focus on place….

I suspect that the answer to my question ‘Where do you pray?’ will have included answers like: in church at services; in church on my own; at home; in an armchair; in bed; at the meal table; and many more. It may well have included places like: in the bath; in the garden; when I’m out for a walk; in the office. In fact, there is nowhere where prayer is not possible. But perhaps what matters is that we find out ‘where works for us’…. Where are the places or the contexts where we find it easiest to pray and to connect with God? For my experience, both for myself and as I have listened to others, is that for most people there are some places which work better than others; and places which used to work, may no longer do so.

But before we explore where we pray, let’s think about where Jesus prayed:

- He prayed in the mountains and on the hills. In each of the Gospels, weread phrases such as “And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray.” (Matt 14.23). Often, he would steal away on his own to ‘re-charge’ (as it were) after some great miracle ore exercise of ministry such as the Feeding of the Five Thousand. Sometime, he would retreat to such a lonely place before making a significant decision – like the choosing of his disciples; or some significant event – such as The Transfiguration – the point at which he finally turns his face towards Jerusalem and the Cross. For Jesus, whose tradition as a Jew told him that ‘mountains’ were places to ‘meet with God’ – just as Moses and Elijah had done – retreating to such a high and lonely place, in the open air, was an acknowledgement that it was time to meet with his Father to be strengthened and to discern his will.

- But Jesus also prayed ‘indoors’. Most notably, he prayed in the Upper Room with his disciples on the night before he died. Here, he was not alone, and through his praying he revealed once more – though to deaf ears – the truth of his relationship with the Father and the purpose of his ministry on earth. The disciples, as it were, are allowed to ‘eavesdrop’ on his prayer as he is enfolded in the love of the Father and prepared for the cruel death he will suffer but a few hours – prayer which continues of course in the Garden of Gethsemane in the moments before his arrest.

- But his praying did not stop at his arrest. Even in the midst of his agony on the Cross, he continues to pray to the Father. He intercedes for the penitent thief; he seeks the Father’s forgiveness for those who taunt and mock and kill him; finally, he commits his own spirit to his Father’s care. Jesus prays in the midst of his suffering both for others and for himself.

- Finally, of course, he prays even now – our exalted Lord and King in heaven, seated at the right hand of the Father, the One who “ever lives to make intercession for us”.

The variety of ‘place’ is notable: outside; inside; alone; in company; in public; in the midst of suffering; in heaven…. And, of course, Jesus not only gives us the example of himself, but also teaches on prayer – especially in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 6) – where he encourages his followers to ‘pray in secret’ and ‘not to heap up empty phrases’, unlike the Pharisees and the Gentiles who want to be both seen and heard by others.

So where might we pray? Let’s think first about some of the obvious places – though for some people they may not be so obvious….

Most of us pray in church. In the Christian tradition, the place of gathering for the Christian community is a place where Christian’s pray – both with others and on their own. In the earliest days of Christianity, those places of gathering may have been homes, synagogues, public spaces or even outside in market places. It was the gathering of the people that made the ‘church , the ecclesia – not the building. But over time, particular buildings were erected and these became set apart as places for prayer – places where (in some cases) prayer has been offered for centuries….

You, like me, will sometimes have walked into a church building – often an ancient one – and had a strong sense of it being a ‘holy place’. As T S Eliot so lyrically puts it:

If you came this way Taking any route, starting from anywhere At any time or at any season It would always be the same: you would have to put off Sense and notion. You are not here to verify Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity Or carry report. You are here to kneel Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more Than an order of words, the conscious occupation Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice pray….

(From ‘The Four Quartets’)

In such places, we are caught up into the prayer of centuries- carried on the ever-ascending desire of countless thousands who have knelt before us and in whose place we now kneel – literally preparing the ground for others who will follow afterwards…. One such place for me is the crypt chapel in the ancient church of St Mary in the village of Lastingham, in the North York Moors – the burial place of St Cedd who (with his brothers Chad and Cynibil) founded a monastery there in the seventh century. I never cease to be moved each time I visit. It is a holy place. And I believe our very own crypt here at the Minster is another.

For each of you there may be similar ‘special places’ which seem to invite us to pause and ponder and prostrate and pray. Relish them – they are the gift of God and of his faithful saints who have gone before us. And such ‘holy places’ are not limited to buildings. They can be in the open air – expanses of nature and beauty that stir us to prayer. The hills of North Wales are one such place for me. So are the Western Isles of Scotland… If prayer is difficult or dry, then a visit to such a place may be just what is needed to help us ‘re-connect’.

But it’s also worth acknowledging that – sometimes at least – church is not a place we can pray. There is nothing wrong in that! If you’ve ever been a churchwarden; or even if you’re simply ‘on duty’ as a reader or intercessor, church can be the last place where you can connect with God: there is simply too much going on; too many things for which you’re responsible! If that is true for you, then it is important simply to accept the fact that – for now, at least – you need other ‘places’ as well.

So much for church. For most of us, however, our places of prayer are more ‘domestic’. And it is ‘prayer at home’ that I want to finish with. Because praying at home can be both the easiest and the hardest place to pray. Easy, perhaps, because it is already ‘our space’; it’s where we are familiar, relaxed, at ease. It is comfortable.

But the factors which make it easy are the very factors which also make it difficult! For being in a very familiar place can ‘take the edge off’ what we are doing. Most especially, the possibility for distraction is huge: we notice that layer of dust on the table; we are disturbed by the doorbell or the phone; we are interrupted by a family member who comes into the room unexpectedly; we simply doze off! (Incidentally, I don’t think God really minds if we drop off when we are praying – I often do last thing at night, and it’s rather a lovely way to go…..)

So what can we do to help ourselves? The most helpful tip I can give is to create a ‘place for prayer’. It’s best if can be in a room or a corner away from the hubbub of the rest of the house – whether or not other people live with you. So, a bedroom is often a good space; or a conservatory; of if rooms are limited, simply a chair in a corner of the room that can be turned to face out of a window, or at some sort of focus, that consciously takes us away from looking at the everyday ongoing demands of living. Or you may have a summer house or even a shed in the garden – a place that you can go to that is set apart from the house afar enough away from its distractions. Some people like to pray anywhere; but for many of us setting aside a particular place for prayer becomes part of our discipline. When we go to that room; when we sit in that chair; it’s as if we are ‘keeping an appointment with God’ – consciously giving him our attention, and giving him first priority at that particular moment. We shall think more about ‘taking time’ for prayer and ‘dealing with distractions’ next week, but having a ‘place’ is – for most people – very important.

So what do we do when we’ve set aside our place? Well, despite my earlier comments, it is important that our place is comfortable enough not to be distracted by pains in the back or frozen feet! The type of chair, or kneeler, or prayer stool matters: chairs should be fairly upright, comfortable enough not to distract, but not so snuggly that you fall asleep. Kneelers or prayer stools need to be the right size – otherwise you’ll simply not be able to

settle. And the temperature needs to be just right. One of the reasons I think people come in to pray in the Minster is because it’s warm enough to do so; many of our church buildings would simply be too cold….

And all of these very basic things are important because we are bodily people. We are physical. And prayer is not just about what our spirits or our minds are doing; it’s about our bodies too. Think for a moment about how you pray…. Do you prefer to stand; to kneel; to sit; to lie on the ground; to walk; to run; to swim? All of these are possible – and some will work better for you than others… And some will be right on one occasion and not on others. There is no right or wrong ‘position’ – whatever you may have been taught at Sunday School! And what do you do with your hands? Do you rest them on your lap; or hold an object; or clasp them together; or raise them in the air? Again, there is no right or wrong thing to do – but equally, it is important to think about what you do do, and experiment with other possibilities. You may discover that what you thought you should be doing is the most uncomfortable position for you to contort your body into these days…. If it is, then change it! God wants your attention – not your distractedness because of the pain and discomfort you are in!

I am conscious that much of what I am saying is simply common sense. But you would be surprised how often we Christians put ‘common sense’ to one side because we think there are ways that things ‘should be done’. Be freed from such constraints! As your rector, I give you permission to pray in whatever place, environment or bodily position helps you to connect with God. There are no rights or wrongs – though I suspect that if all of us decided to get out of our pews and prostrate ourselves on the floor at the 9.45 Eucharist, we might have a slight problem…..

Seriously, I hope you will take time this coming week to think about where you pray and how you might make it easier to pray – especially in your own home. Move the furniture a little. Talk to your spouse or children or others who live with you – discuss your need of a particular ‘place’ where you may connect with God and see what it may be possible to create. And think about what you do with your body when you pray – what helps and what distracts…

For all these things are important. A first step.

Next week – we shall be thinking about ‘Prayer and time’

2. Prayer and time

Last week, we spent some time together thinking about where we pray; what environment helps us and how we position our bodies. I hope you have had the chance to think about this over the past week and maybe identify or create a place or a space at home which is your ‘Prayer Chair’ or your ‘God Corner’ where you can go, comfortably, to keep an appointment with God.

This evening, I want to speak briefly about ‘Prayer and time’ – and that word ‘appointment’ may be a helpful one to think about…. If you need to go to the doctor or the dentist, you firstly acknowledge the fact (“I have got to get my medication checked” or “That back molar really does need looking at”) and you make a decision to do something about it. In most instances (other than emergencies) you have to telephone or email and agree a time when the doctor or dentist is available to see you, and when you are available to attend. It’s something we are used to doing quite often. When you get there, you ‘book in’ and register the fact that you are there, and then you ‘wait’. In due time, the doctor or dentist calls you and you have a consultation or conversation about whatever is concerning you. At the end of the appointment, there may be some action to take – like a new prescription to be collected, or a change in diet, or the need to clean your teeth in a slightly different way. And often you will make an appointment for your next visit as you leave….

Prayer takes time – just like a doctor’s or dentist’s appointment. But somehow, we often find it much more difficult to take time to pray…. Last week I made the point that because we are ‘bodily people’ our prayer is located and it is located not only in ‘space’ but in ‘time’. Just as every breath that we take takes time – and the number of our breaths in this world of time and space is limited; so it takes time to pray and to ‘breathe in tune with God’. God of course is beyond time – and space – but our praying is always within the temporal constraints of our created world.

So when do you pray? Think about it….

I suspect the answers to that question will have included as many moments at there are seconds in a day: for some, the early morning is the best time; for others last thing at night; for others it will be at mealtimes when the household is gathered together; for others it will be connected to ‘place’ and may be ‘when I go to Church’ or ‘when I visit the cemetery’ or when I potter around the garden. For some, it will be regular – the same time each day; for others, it will be more random – a case of ‘when I feel like it’.

So when did Jesus pray? Well the evidence of the Gospels is fairly sparse. We know that he was often active in the early morning – for example, teaching in the temple and in some of the resurrection appearances – but there doesn’t appear to be any evidence that he made a point of praying in the early morning. That said, it’s perfectly possible that he did and we simply don’t know about it: for we read in Luke’s Gospel that he often prayed alone (9.18), so how could others have been aware? Mark’s Gospel (6.46) tells us by inference that he prayed in the early evening – after he had fed the five thousand, and before he walked over the water to the disciples to calm the storm. And again, in Luke, we read that he spent an

entire night in prayer before choosing his twelve disciples. What is clear is that Jesus prayed a great deal and made time to pray.

Over its two thousand year history, the Church has worked hard to help people to pray. For despite the example of Jesus, it became quickly evident that the rest of us sometimes struggle to make a prayer a priority. So patterns became established; and corporate prayer found its place in the activities of the Church. Right from its earliest days, we read that the new Christians gathered together to break bread and to pray. The Jews were, of course, used to having their three ‘hours of prayer’ in the morning, the afternoon and the evening: for example, in Acts 3 we hear of Peter and John “going up to the temple at the hour of prayer at three o’clock in the afternoon” (3.1) The Didache, a first century text thought to go back to Apostolic times and written especially for the new Gentile converts, encourages people to pray the Lord’s Prayer three times a day. The Church Fathers – Clement, Origen and Tertullian – wrote of the practice of saying Morning and Evening Prayer as well as the offices of terce, sext and none. And by the fifth century, St Benedict had introduced a pattern of praying through the day which was to be (and remains) the backbone of monastic life, with its seven offices of the day – beginning with Matins at dawn and ending with Compline at bedtime.

Our Anglican inheritance of these canonical hours are the offices of Morning and Evening Prayer – a Cranmerian compilation of elements of the ‘hours’ into manageable chunks. E great strength of the offices is the regular reciting of the psalms and the regular hearing or reading of Scripture – both in the lectionary texts from Old and New Testaments and in the words of the Canticles, all of which in the Book of Common Prayer, and most of which in Common Worship, are directly lifted from Scripture. It is a very rich inheritance.

So what has all this got to do with us and the subject of Prayer and Time? The answer is, a great deal…..

If we’re honest with ourselves, we often find it no easier to be disciplined about making time to pray than did the earliest Christians and those who followed after them. We all need a framework – whether that’s one provided by the Church or one that we devise ourselves. What’s more, we need to know that we are not alone when we pray. Sometimes, of course – as in Evensong or other services here at the Minster – we are physically present with others as prayers are said or led. But the great thing about the daily offices – even as they are so often said alone either at home or in an otherwise empty church building – the great thing about the daily offices is that they are said in the company of all the saints of God who are praying them all around the world: the same texts; the same psalms set for the day; the same readings from Old and New Testament. The words of the well-known hymn capture it wonderfully:

As o’er each continent and island The dawn leads on another day The voice of prayer is never silent Nor dies the strain of praise away.

If and when we pray, we join in that wave of prayer that constantly travels around the world and encompasses and enfolds all of God’s creation. So if you’ve never said one of the daily offices, let me encourage you to do so. We are about to say one of them this evening – and compline is a very easy place to start. But you may want to incorporate the regular reading of the Bible into your daily practice, and if you do, then you can use a lectionary to help you. Any of the clergy would be delighted to give you a steer. You can even find the daily office all set out for you on the Church of England website each day…. Or you could join the small group of us who meet to pray Morning Prayer on Monday, Wednesday or Friday in the crypt chapel…. But if the formality of saying an office is not for you, then how can you create a framework that works? Well, the answer is that you choose to take time…. Let me take you back to the beginning of this talk and remind you of the steps involved in making an appointment to see the doctor or the dentist. First you recognise your need to go. Prayer is not an option for the Christian disciple. It is a necessity. Our spiritual health depends on it. And if we think we can get by without it, then we will quickly discover that we are becoming spiritually ’sick’ and we need to do something about it. Second, we make an appointment. We create a space in our busy schedules – even when it seems there isn’t space – because we know it matters. Now, this can be a tricky one. And just as I said there’s no ‘right place’, so there’s no ‘right time’. What works for one person may not work for another. I’m an early bird. But others are night owls. One person may be able to fit in a ‘long appointment’; another may choose to have several shorter appointments in the course of a day. Both are valid. And it may be that sometimes you can set aside a longer time to pray than you can at others. But the important thing is to make the appointment. Third, you register your arrival. Now, that may not be to a receptionist, but it is important to recognise that you ‘present’ and ‘waiting’ and ready to meet with God. That can sometimes be the hardest part of keeping the appointment. For you can sit and twiddle your thumbs, and wonder what’s going on for other people, and generally be distracted – especially if there’s nothing else to ‘do’ to occupy you. But what matters is that you are there. And you are waiting. Fourth, you are called into the conversation and able to share what is on your mind and heart – both the things that concern you and the things that you’re pleased about. And God listens. And hears. Fifth, you may come away having been made aware of actions you need to take to keep healthy: ways in which your lifestyle may need to change; things you may need to take on board and learn in order to enhance your spiritual wellbeing. And then you walk out into the wider world and get on with living. It’s an analogy. It may not work in every respect. But I think it does demonstrate that we take some aspects of our health more seriously than others. The difference is that the doctor or dentist seems always to be rushed off their feet, over-burdened and sometimes difficult to pin down. God, by contrast, is always there. And ready. And waiting for you. If you sometimes find it hard to make time to pray, then I suggest that this week you might try two things:

First, think about saying one of the daily offices – morning or evening prayer or compline. If you haven’t got the words anywhere, then ask one of the clergy and we’ll point you in the right direction. Or find it on the website or come and join us in the crypt chapel. Second, try to find a set time each day – maybe just for 10 minutes – at a time that you know will work for you – when you are awake, in the right ‘place’ and least likely to be distracted by phones, doorbells, radios, other noise or people. And ‘make an appointment with God’ each day in the coming week at the same time. I guarantee you’ll feel better by the end of it. Finally, if you do find yourself distracted; or if you fail to keep the appointment one day – don’t beat yourself up! Distractions are normal and grace abounds. A notebook is helpful for distractions – if your head is full of other things, simply write them down and return to prayer; they’ll still be there when you finish, but you won’t have to think about them until that point. And if you find it difficult to keep the appointment every day, you will be in good company. The good news is that God will keep waiting for you. And he’ll never give up. Time is God’s gift to us. And so is prayer. What he longs for is for us to ‘take it’ and ‘use it’.

3. Prayer and silence Tonight we come to the third in our series of Lent addresses, ‘Prayer and….’ Over the past two weeks, we have thought together about ‘Prayer and place’ and ‘Prayer and time’. My emphasis in this course has been very much on the reality and the practicalities of prayer; not on the theology; nor on the history of the spiritual tradition; but on the sheer hard work of praying and making it work. This evening, we come to ‘Prayer and silence’. Tonight’s address will be briefer than the last two, as our time together is followed immediately by a meeting of the Deanery Synod. But I want to offer one or two thoughts about silence which I hope may give you something to reflect upon during the coming week.

The Church has a long and rich history of both exploring and affirming the value of silence as part of the spiritual life. The desert traditions, the monastic life and the practice of contemplation in daily living speak powerfully of the benefit – and the struggle – which comes with allowing the Spirit of God to speak into the silence, and to speak into the heart of the Christian disciple. But the fact is, many – if not most – of us find silence difficult: either because we can’t find it; or we are afraid of it; or we simply don’t know what to do with it.

In her volume, ‘A Book of Silence’, Sara Maitland explores a myriad of perspectives on this intriguing aspect of human experience: the silences of nature; the silence of renunciation; the silence of secrets; silence used for dramatic effect – to name but a few. Referring to the sheer ‘symphonies of silence’ (p.188) she writes: ‘Silence is multi-faceted, a deeply woven fabric of many different strands and threads….’ But what she also makes plain is just how difficult it is, these days, for people to experience silence at all. Now there are, of course, what you might describe as ‘degrees of silence’. Those who live on their own might say that the world is far too silent – that they would love the noises of activity or people or

conversation to break into the emptiness and monotony of their world The voices of children playing are often especially welcome…. But even the silence of aloneness is not really silence. The clock ticks; the radio plays; the buses go up and down the street; the dog barks; the rooks squawk. Indeed, there are very few places that are really silent. Sara Maitland had to travel to the Sinai desert and a remote Scottish island even to begin to discover it for herself. And she is in good company – for the Desert Fathers and the Celtic saints did the same.

But I suspect that one of the reasons it is so hard to get away from the noise of life is that we have conditioned ourselves into avoiding silence. We are afraid of it and what it might demand of us. Radio, TV and communications technology have formed us into people who are constantly ‘in touch’ with one another (isn’t it interesting how we use that phrase rather than saying ‘in hearing with one another?); and even the ‘silent’ modes of email, text and twitter are actually full of ‘noise’ and conversation….. Similarly, reading is often thought of as a solitary pursuit, but it’s only in the last hundred years or so that people have learned to read ‘silently’; until the turn of the twentieth century, most people would have always read out loud. But even reading silently brings ‘internal noise’ as we absorb what is said in the newspaper, or on the internet, or in the latest novel downloaded on our Kindles. Noise is everywhere: external and internal. And silence is hard to attain. But the question is, do we really want to attain it?

For when it comes to prayer, especially, silence comes with a health warning. For silence can bring both ecstasy and pain. When we hear about the Desert Fathers and Mothers; when we imagine what it might be like to live the life of a recluse or hermit, or even as a member of a religious community, there can sometimes be a pang of jealousy that they have time to pray and wonderful, peaceful, uninterrupted environment in which to do it. Do not be deceived. Silence in prayer is by no means easy – either to attain, or to live with! Jesus went into the desert and was severely tested; disciples through the centuries have done the same and, rather than escaping reality have been confronted with their own reality in ways they have found almost too much to bear.

A Desert Father said this:

When anyone penetrates deeper into the desert, they must take along with them faith, hope and charity. Their minds must be well made up and they must be firmly determined to achieve their goal. For combat will besiege them from every side.

And a friend with whom I once shared a house wrote this:

Desert spirituality is a spirituality of struggle, which is inevitable as we seek to know and to journey into ourselves, to face the demons in the depths of our personalities. It is a struggle with the apparent absence of God and a struggle in the darkness of our own emptiness and insufficiency. (David Praill)

So why is silence in prayer worth pursuing?

Well, precisely because it allows us to connect with the depths both of who we are and who God is. For as long as we avoid silence, or contain it within the carefully bounded spaces of formal worship, we can contain also our fear of what it may reveal about us and about the

God we serve. As soon as we step away from the noise – external and internal – and put down the barriers of sound and distraction, we give permission for the Holy Spirit to penetrate our defences and address us in ways we may never have heard or felt or perceived before. Such levels of inner silence are hard to attain. It takes practice and determination to discover them. But – like the vein of gold in the deep mine, or the diamonds to be discovered deep within the earth – in the depths of silence God’s riches are to be found. But they won’t be discovered every day!

As Isaac the Syrian said:

Try to enter the treasure chamber… that is within you and then you will discover the treasure chamber of heaven. For they are one and the same. If you succeed in entering one you will see both. The ladder to this Kingdom is hidden inside you, in your soul.

Now all of this may sound rather high-falluting; it’s alright for these pious and professional Christians, but not for me. My challenge to you is simply to try it. Find that ‘place’ that works for you. Set aside that ‘time’ that fits your schedule. Sit in a way that’s comfortable, with your body and breathing as easy as they can be. And listen….. Begin by identifying the sounds you hear and turn them into prayers of thanksgiving and intercession. And then try to listen to what’s going on inside: the thoughts, the distractions, the anxieties, the fears, the hopes. Write them down, if it helps; and then go back to the silence and the waiting.

Nothing may happen at all. And that doesn’t matter. But what you may find – even only rarely – is that a phrase from Scripture, or a hymn, or a poem; or a single word; or a feeling; or an image, comes into your consciousness…. Stay with it. Reflect on it. And ask God if it is from him and whether it has any meaning for you today. And whether or not it seems to, thank him for it. If all this sounds risky, it is because it is. Growth in prayer is a risky business. But there are treasures to be had which God longs for us to discover – and not for our own sake, but for the sake of his world.

I ask for riches. You gave me the earth, the sea,

the immensity of the broad sky. I looked at them and learned I must withdraw to possess them. I gave my eyes

and my ears, and dwelt in a soundless darkness

in the shadow of your regard.

The soul grew in me, filling me

with its fragrance. Men came to me from the four

winds to hear me speak of the unseen flower by which

I sat, whose roots were not in the soil, nor its petals the colour of the wide sea; that was its own species with its own sky over it, shot

with the rainbow of your coming and going.

R. S. Thomas

4. Prayer and the senses Well, we are nearly five weeks into Lent and I am wondering how it has been for you? I hope that you have been able to find some time for reflection amidst the busy-ness of daily living. That is always a challenge for me – but very necessary. And I am wondering what has been happening for you in your praying? Together we have explored three different topics so far – Prayer and space, Prayer and time, Prayer and silence - and tonight we come to a fourth: Prayer and the senses. As I said at the beginning of this series, my aim is to be more practical than theological, and I hope that this evening I may be able to offer some new insights and things to try as we seek to learn more how to pray.

The Senses. Something integral to being human – and we are bodily people. Most of us, I suspect, take our senses for granted – hearing, sight, touch, taste and smell – unless and until we are deprived of them. A child born without any one of those capacities is, rightly, a source of sadness and pain to those close to them; for suddenly those around anticipate the sense of loss – of deprivation even – a sense of unfairness that a fellow human being should not have the opportunity to experience what we experience and enjoy what we enjoy. And then, of course, accident or age can deprive us of one or more of our senses later in life and we are suddenly bereft and left grieving for capacities we once knew and took for granted. Learning to live with such loss is not easy. And yet many who do will say that the body’s capacity to adapt is remarkable and where one sense is diminished, another develops extraordinarily to take its place…

The important thing to recognise is that because we are bodily creatures, our senses are very much a part of our praying, whether we recognise it or not. If we think about it, we will probably all agree that hearing and seeing are familiar parts of prayer: when we are together we hear words spoken, either as set prayers or biddings for intercession; and we see words printed on a page, which we read aloud and listen to as we speak them. But that is only one dimension of hearing; only one dimension of seeing; and there are so many more. So let’s explore each of our senses in turn and stretch our minds, and in doing so, stretch the possibilities for our prayer. Last week we thought about Prayer and silence, and we discovered that silence is about more than an absence of sound. Rather it is a way of being attentive to God and to ourselves which can help us to go deeper than we might in other forms of prayer. But when we are silent, we are still hearing – and we may well be using other senses as well, as we shall see in a few moments… Last week I encouraged you to listen in the silence to both the external and the internal ‘noise’ – sounds from round about, but also the sounds from within: a phrase from Scripture; the words of a psalm or hymn that comes into your mind… But what other sounds are there and how might we be active in using our sense of hearing in our prayer? Let me offer three particular areas you might explore: first, the sounds of nature. Sit in the garden or the local park, or go for a gentle walk with your ears open and you will hear the sounds of nature: birds singing; the wind blowing through long grass; the trickle of a stream; the whistling of a buzzard; the scrunch of leaves underfoot; the brushing of a hedgerow against your jacket…. Whilst I’m not one for saying simply ‘You can always find

God in the garden’, there is – for many of us - a deep inspiration that comes through hearing the sounds and seeing the sights of our created world. As Manley-Hopkins reminds us:

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God….

.....

5

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; 10

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright

wings.

The sounds and sights of nature draw us beyond ourselves and can inspire us to praise and wonder at our Creator God. St Francis knew such wonder well and we hear it expressed, of course, in this extract from his Canticle of Brother Son and Sister Moon: Praised be You my Lord with all Your creatures, especially Sir Brother Sun, Who is the day through whom You give us light. And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendour, Of You Most High, he bears the likeness. Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars, In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair. Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, And fair and stormy, all weather's moods, by which You cherish all that You have made. Praised be You my Lord through Sister Water, So useful, humble, precious and pure. Praised be You my Lord through Brother Fire, through whom You light the night and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong. Praised be You my Lord through our Sister, Mother Earth who sustains and governs us, producing varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs....

But what about the sounds of daily living? Perhaps we regard those as distractions? The traffic on the street; the crying child; the noises in the market place; the marital argument; the hoover; the washing machine. Our instinct is to say that this is ‘noise’ and we may try to escape from it. But these are the noises – the sounds - of life. And each, in its own way, can lead us to prayer: for the safety of those who travel; for family life; for all who trade; for relationships in conflict; for those who care for homes; for those with no-one to care whose

labour is with hands and with back-breaking work. The sounds of daily living can be just as much part of our prayer as silence. For many people, however, music can play a special part in enabling prayer. It is, of course, so often a matter of taste. But, for each of us, there will be particular pieces of music – or styles or types of music – which help to still or stir us and which can often draw us to God. Music can sometimes ‘reach the parts that others don’t’ in a way that it is hard to explain. Only this past Sunday, I found myself in tears at Evensong as we sang a hymn that has had a special meaning for me over the years.... And whether it’s classical, modern, pop, rap, grunge, Taize or something else, music – with and without words- can lead us into prayer and sometimes even become the vehicle by which we pray. So much for hearing. What about sight? Well, I have already spoken of nature and few of us would deny the power of a sunset or a glorious vista to stir us within. What God has made is indeed good. But what about the works of human beings? Art, sculpture, photography, icons.... The long history of association between art and religion has borne fruit since time immemorial and never more so than in the Christian era, in a wealth of carvings, engravings, paintings, frescoes, icons, woodcuts and more both inspired by and inspiring of the God in whose image the artist is made. If you have never used a work of art to inspire you to pray, then please try it; look at it with eyes of faith and be amazed at what God unfolds for you.... And it’s not just works of art that can help us. We live in a visual technological world and the creative possibilities of the internet, YouTube and computer-generated visuals are enormous. Such materials may not be to your personal taste, but for a new generation they offer huge potential for expressing and communicating the truths of God. Finally, while we’re thinking about sight, let’s not forget the simple power of the lit candle as an aid to focusing the mind and stilling the soul. Whether in light or darkness, a candle can be a hugely effective way of signalling attentiveness to God and to prayer – a way of marking out both the place and the time.... The sense of touch is one we may not have explored before. The classical use of the rosary, not only in the Christian tradition, but by other faiths as well, illustrates the way in which physical connectedness can both enable concentration and engage the body at a different level to the mind. Holding crosses have become popular in recent years – a simple, off-centred cross which fits neatly into a person’s hand and which can often act as a great reassurance to those who are troubled or sick and otherwise unable to pray. But what about holding other things from nature – stones, shells, leaves, grass or flowers - feeling their beauty and complexity as an aid to prayer rather than simply looking at them – beautiful as they may be to the eye. Or there may be the seasonal use of objects such as fruits or vegetables at Harvest-time, or nails in Holy Week. And then there is the whole question of the appropriateness of touch when praying with others – the laying on of

hands; the holding of another’s hand when praying for them. Now is not the time to explore that one – but it does illustrate the power of our sense of touch when we pray. Smell and taste are perhaps a little more diffuse when it comes to thinking about prayer, despite the fact that incense as long been an aid to prayer in the history of the Church; and all four Gospels give an account of the woman who anointed Jesus with fragrant perfume in preparation for his burial. But when we read Scripture and begin to imagine some of the smells and tastes that those in the stories may have experienced, it can become an inspiration to our own prayer and can open up the narratives in ways we have never thought of. What might it have smelt like, for example, by the Sea of Galilee? What might it have smelt like in the heart of the city of Jerusalem with sheep and goats roaming the streets and spices being sold, and bread baked, and the sweat of humanity all around? What might it have smelt and tasted like when Jesus and his disciples broke the bread and shared the fish, and turned water into wine, and picked the figs, and plucked the grain....? This might seem a long way from prayer and the senses, but in fact it is not. For Scripture can be a way in to encountering God with more than just our minds. It is a way of prayer encouraged and developed by St Ignatius Loyola in the sixteenth century, and which has enabled countless Christians since to deepen their prayer lives as they have learned to enter in to the biblical narrative using their senses as well as their intellect. There is much more that could be said. But I hope I have whetted your appetite (and I use the phrase deliberately) to experiment with new ways of praying for you; ways that encourage you to use the whole of who you are and not just your mind. If you want to talk more about ‘how’ to use your senses, then please ask. And remember - God gave us our senses to use in all sorts of ways – not just so that we don’t burn the toast! Next week we will explore Prayer and Words.

5. Prayer and Words Well, here we are – the last of our five week series on ‘Prayer and....’ We have thought together about Prayer and Place, Prayer and Time, Prayer and Silence, Prayer and the Senses; and this evening we come to the final talk in our series: ‘Prayer and Words’. Perhaps you are wondering why is has taken us so long to get here? Well, the reason is, I wanted you to think about other aspects of praying before we reached ‘words’. For, I suspect that our default, when somebody asks us about prayer or (heaven forbid!) asks us to pray out loud, is to panic and think to ourselves: ‘What am I going to say?’, ‘How am I going to find the right words?’.... Words are important – as we shall discover again in a few moments – but they are not the be all and end all of prayer, as I hope I have begun to persuade you over the past few weeks. Silence, the use of the senses, our bodily position, and the disciplines or patterns of praying which we establish are also very significant and can contribute to the effectiveness of our praying as much as the words we may say; but this evening we return to that which is perhaps most familiar, and to explore the huge resources of language which we have at our disposal from our rich cultural and Judeao-Christian heritage. Iris Murdoch describes prayer as “an attention to God which is a form of love.” (x 2) Let me invite you, for a moment, to think about someone you love.... How do you tell them you love them?.... How do they know?.... Of course, when we love someone, we can express that love with a hug, or a glance or a gentle touch; we can sit in silence and simply ‘be there’ with them. We can buy them a bunch of flowers, or a bottle of whisky, or some other tangible gift which expresses something of our affection. But what we feel and desire and long to say sometimes needs words, needs verbal expression, even when we might feel ‘lost for words’. If Iris Murdoch is right and prayer is, indeed, ”an attention to God which is a form of love”, then it follows that – as well as sitting sometimes in silence - we shall, indeed, use words to tell God we love him, to thank him, to implore him, even to complain at him. Thus, words become the vehicle for the expression of our feelings. They are not ‘opposed’ to the heart; rather they set down markers of things that must be said as well as felt. Following the Reformation, as things eventually began to settle, there developed a rather unhelpful polarity between those of a more Protestant persuasion, who believed that prayer should always come from the heart and be more or less free-flowing; and those of a more catholic persuasion, who cherished the tradition of the liturgy with its more fixed forms of words, repeated faithfully, day by day, week by week, year by year. But it is an unhelpful polarity, as we shall see; because sometimes the words of prayer flow off the tongue like a never ending stream, and at others we need both the framework and the content – the very words – of prayers which have been said by countless others before us over the years. We thought about this a few weeks ago, when I encouraged you to try saying one of the daily offices – like morning or evening prayer, or compline. This evening, I want to explore, briefly, four different types of ‘words’ that we might use in our praying and then suggest some ways in which you might experiment further with words than you may have done thus far.

Firstly, I want to say a little about the use of Scripture in our prayer. Last week, we thought about the way in which a passage of Scripture can enliven our senses as we ‘enter into the scene’ in our imaginations and try to become part of it – this is often known as an Ignatian approach to prayer. But today, I want to ask how the words of Scripture themselves can help us pray? As we’ve already discovered, the texts of the daily offices are almost entirely drawn from Scripture – the responses, the canticles, the readings and so on. But the one resource which I believe we under-use is the psalms. For here are words which, between them, encompass every possible human emotion and desire: sometimes elation and praise; sometimes anxiety; sometimes stubborn assertions about God and his people; sometimes seeking forgiveness; sometimes expressing the depths of despair: O praise God in his holiness Praise him in the firmament of his power (Ps 150.1) Hear my prayer, O God: Hide not yourself from my petition (Ps 55.1)

God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble (Ps 46.1)

Rebuke me not, O Lord, in your anger,

Neither chasten me in your heavy displeasure (Ps 38.1) Out of the depths have I cried to you, O Lord: Lord, hear my voice; Let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication. (Ps 130.1)

Even Jesus himself quoted from the psalms and from Scriptures, mostly famously from the cross when he cried out ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ We do, of course, use the psalms regularly at Matins and Evensong, but I am concerned that they are not a regular part of our liturgical diet at the 9.45 Eucharist. They are a rich resource to be tapped. But there are also other particular parts of Scripture which we might be drawn to use in our prayer. I have already referred to the Canticles, and many of these are based on passages of Scripture which the early Church adopted as ‘hymns’ or ‘prayers’ to be said corporately. One such is the famous passage from Philippians chapter 2 which describes the great condescension of God in Christ: another of course, is the words of the Lord’s Prayer itself. Some would say that you read your Bible and then say your prayers, as two separate and sequential activities. I would say they belong together – the one feeding and enlightening the other. Secondly, there are what we might describe as ‘set prayers’. All of us find praying difficult sometimes, and especially at times of stress or pain; so it can be very helpful to have the resource of books of prayers, already devised words - both ancient and modern - which demand nothing more of us than to read and recite them, as they encapsulate our feelings and needs for us, when we ourselves cannot find the words to pray. Like the psalms, set prayers, set words can become the scaffolding of a building; they hold us up and support us when we have little ability to put our feelings into words. Of course, there is always the danger of simply ‘going through the motions’ in prayer and not concentrating on what we are saying; but the prayers of the Christian tradition are there for us to use. They have

been cherished, agonised over, changed and edited, ‘tuned’ until they ‘sing’ precisely what the author wants to say. Cranmer ws a master of this with his collects in the Book of Common Prayer, upon which many of our Common Worship collects are based. They are words which have been ‘planed’ and ‘sanded down’ until they are just right for saying what needs to be said on a particular day in the Church’s year. They have been devised like formal poetry according to traditional rules about shape and form: the collects always begin by saying something about God, before they say anything about us and our needs. If you have never read through the collects from the Book of Common Prayer, then do; and I am sure you will begin to want to pray them for yourself.... Thirdly, there is the practice of Lectio divina, and the saying of the Jesus Prayer. The former is the practice of taking a very short phrase from Scripture and ‘chewing it over’ in mind and heart for a long period of time. The monks would often walk the cloisters practising lectio divina and allowing the words and their meaning to sink deeply into their consciousness. It is a very particular form of prayer, but one which can be immensely valuable. Similar, but different is the repetitive saying of the Jesus Prayer: ‘Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God; have mercy on me, a sinner.’ Popular in the Orthodox tradition for centuries, the practice of saying the Jesus Prayer in everyday living has become a helpful anchor for those who lead busy lives. Bishop Simon Barrington-Ward has written a helpful little book on the Prayer. Finally, there are of course, the words of literature and poetry – another huge resource to which we can turn to supplement our prayer, as over the centuries, writers have committed to paper (and now to the internet) their own expression of their feelings towards God - both good and bad. From time to time, poets manage to say what we cannot, and reading their words (whether aloud or silently) can release us to express those things which we struggle to enunciate in our own words. John Donne, George Herbert, R S Thomas, Philip Larkin and Elizabeth Jennings are all poets to whom I have turned and in whom I have identified kindred spirits in different ways at different times. Each of these types of words are, of course, ‘words given’. And although there is not time to explore it this evening, it must be acknowledged that the fruit of our praying can often be that we ourselves become the poet, the liturgist, the one who commits words to paper; the one to whom others may turn in the future and find help and a means of expression. Scripture, set prayers from the liturgy and the tradition, lectio divina, the Jesus Prayer, poetry and literature. We are not short of words to say and resources to turn to. And yet so often we don’t. Either because we feel we ought to pray with our own words; or because we cannot spare or make the time to find the resources and look them up and use them. That’s why the memorising of prayers and favourite texts – Biblical, liturgical or otherwise – can be a rich source of sustaining in prayer. Our culture has rather lost the desire to memorise in that way, but if we do, such words can become a treasure house of helpful, remembered words which are instantly ready for use at an appropriate moment. Gone are the days of memorising the catechism and the collects; but many is the elderly person I have visited who has joined in the words of collect or canticle because they have memorised them as a child.

So in these last days of Lent, I challenge you to find two collects either from the Book of Common Prayer, or Common Worship, and to learn them by heart. Say them morning and evening each day, until you can stop worrying about whether you remember them or not. And find a brief quotation from one of the poets who have written of God and of prayer and learn it by heart, so that it may become a resource for you in the future, when – as you will – you find you have run out of words to say. Let me finish by reading George Herbert’s poem Prayer (1)

¶ Prayer. (I)

PRayer the Churches banquet, Angels age,

Gods breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage, The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth;

Engine against th’ Almightie, sinners towre, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, The six-daies world transposing in an houre, A kinde of tune, which all things heare and fear;

Softnesse, and peace, and joy, and love, and blisse, Exalted Manna, gladnesse of the best, Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest, The Milkie way, the bird of Paradise,

Church-bels beyond the starres heard, the souls bloud, The land of spices; something understood.

BY GEORGE HERBERT 1593–1633 George Herbert

Words are precious – both to God and to us; and they have great power. To wound, to heal, to betray, to affirm, to mislead, to encourage. Words are part of God’s creation; they arise from the Word himself, the inventor of speech, who speaks into our lives in creation and in the power of the Spirit. And so they demand great care. So, in prayer, use words when you have to and be silent when you don’t. For in words, God links us in faith with generations, centuries worth of other people who have prayed with those same words in years gone by, and which sometimes have the power to take us beyond speech into the heart of God. To whom be glory, and praise and thanksgiving. Amen.