Three Tips On Prayer: Consistency, Self-Denial, Adoration
The following talk was given in response to an invitation to give a Lenten Talk on Prayer to a chapter of ‘The King’s Men’, a Catholic men’s group, on 9 April 2019.
Allow me to begin this talk by expressing my gratitude to you men, and especially to N., for your gracious invitation to give a talk on prayer. N. can tell you how challenging it can be to secure my attendance especially at these evening meetings, and especially at this, the week before Holy Week! I am humbled and honored to be able to speak with you all today.
The topic today as advertised is “Tips On How To Pray.” I have to say, to be quite honest, sometimes I feel I am the last person who should be giving a talk like this. Would it surprise you to know that for many Priests, especially Parish Priests, it is somewhat difficult to find time to really pray? Our lives are full of various appointments which involve prayer of some kind, usually formal and liturgical. In addition to this, we are constantly getting requests for all things of one kind of another, much like Our Lord during his earthly ministry. Yet Our Lord, in the midst of a lot of hustle and bustle, made an explicit point to retreat from worldly concerns, even ‘godly-worldly’ concerns, to spend time with his Father. If prayer was necessary for the Son of God, who as we say, is hypostatically united to the Father, how much more necessary is it for us, if we even hope to attain union with God, which is one of the ends of prayer?
When I was a younger man, I loved to read the lives of Saints. I still do. But there is one thing I have learned after almost fifteen years of near continuous reading: even the Saints ‘put on fronts’. To give an example, I remember once reading a critical biography of St. Teresa of Ávila after reading some of her own Autobiography, which is a spiritual masterpiece. I was almost offended after reading it, because the biographer, who had a far more global vision of her life, was able to draw not just from her own words, but from her examples, and also how her contemporaries saw her. We are rarely completely as we seem under our own lights. As the ancient Romans loved to remind us, nemo judex in sua causa; no one is a judge in one’s own case. So, I was amused to hear little stories about St. Teresa’s little temper tantrums, her frustrations with stupid nuns, her sometimes neurotic need for control, coupled with an immense generosity of temperament. It reminds me of another time I read a critical biography of St. Alphonsus Liguori, and about his little known, or airbrushed, accounts of his severe struggles with mental illness, and most especially his deathbed temptations of a sexual nature! Men and women of great prayer and sanctity are not alabaster statues, and neither are we. So, over the years, I have learned to balance my reading of the lives and writings of Saints with a healthy dose of reverent criticism: most especially, I love reading their letters to their directees and other people. This is where they take their sometimes-lofty theologies and apply them to people in varying circumstances. Ironically, I have found some of the best advice from uncanonized saints; that is to say, from men and women who have the same or greater facility at teaching spirituality as at living it. We all know from common life that there are perhaps many brilliant or skilled people in the world. Yet not all of them do teach, or ought to teach. The same is true in the spiritual order. There are hopefully many holy people among the Church Militant on earth. Yet precious few in Church History, for instance, have been awarded the great title “Doctor”, which means “Teacher” in the Latin. St. Thomas Aquinas tells us that the crown of ‘Doctor’ belongs to those who have a special grace to be able to teach the faith with both great clarity and holiness. All the Saints have crowns, but three specifically exist in our theological tradition: that of a Doctor, that of a Virgin, and that of a Martyr.
Why am I saying all this? Because I want to explain to some degree where I am getting what I am saying today. To learn how to pray well, it is extremely important to know how to read well. St. John Vianney once said that spiritual reading is to prayer what wood is to a fire. If our reading is poor, our prayer will likewise be impoverished. That is not to say the illiterate cannot have a robust spiritual life: to the contrary. That is why reading for sake of prayer is called spiritual reading. That is not just because of its content, but because of its mode of apprehension. So, an illiterate person could “apprehend” a spiritual subject by their fervent attention, let’s say to the Liturgy or to the Created Order, much more than a literate person, who is blessed with far more formal education, can pass over spiritual realities with no more understanding than a brute beast. St. Paul reminds us that understanding according to the spiritual order involves a certain purification of the intellect, because “The natural man does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God. For they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned. [But] the spiritual man judges all things…” (1 Cor 2:14-15).
I am going to make a founded presupposition that you men are all on some level already somewhat experienced in the spiritual life. If you were not, it would be difficult to understand why you would be in the King’s Men, or why you would attend a talk on prayer. So, let me pass on from these preliminary considerations onto something a little more substantial.
As I said before, all of us here I think are very busy. When speaking of this, I prefer to use two different adjectives: one can be “busy” or one can be “active”. I believe that the former is artificial and dangerous, but the latter is proper to a living being. The first counsel I would give regarding prayer would be: show up. Do it. But far more importantly and accurately: be present. Committing oneself to regular prayer requires, as I just got done saying, a commitment to a change in one’s frame of mind. Some people come at prayer as they come at busy work. It is yet another thing to do. Now everyone, including the Saints, comes to prayer sometimes borne by the force of habit. This is not necessarily bad, but can become bad if it is only mere habit which draws us. We don’t always feel perceptibly the power of grace, or the closeness of God. Oftentimes, periods of eclipse of the felt presence of God follow intense periods of awareness of the same. The change of mind comes, to borrow from St. Teresa of Ávila, when one decides to persevere, come what may, in the practice of the virtues, one of which is regular prayer. And like all habits, it requires growth, effort and refinement. Results are usually only known after the fact, because grace is a spiritual reality not usually perceived by the physical senses, the emotions, or the imagination. Grace is known by its effects on the person. This type of authentic prayer is not busyness, but it is most certainly active. Although one may not be moving much at prayer, one may be operating on an intense level. Or, to put it more properly in the higher orders, one may be ‘operated on’ on an intense and deep level. More on that later.
My first counsel on prayer is to do it, and to be present mentally while doing it. At the same time, it is important to recognize that we are both spiritual and physical beings. Our soul and our mind are affected by the state of our body. So, my second piece of advice is this: forsake the merely busy, embrace the active. But how? The answer is asceticism. Asceticism’s purpose primarily is creating the space for God to work, of removing distractions and impediments to his action in the soul. By ‘turning down’ the volume of material concerns, those of the spirit can be ‘heard’. It is about moving from an automatic, reactive or even consumption-based approach to life and to the spiritual to an organic, intentional and offering-based approach. To repeat, my second counsel on prayer after doing it at all, and not failing in that regard, would be to practice self-denial or what traditionally we call asceticism. This was the path charted by our Lord and his Apostles, and it is also so for us. Prayer is also, in a sense, a form of self-denial, in that it demands a surrender of a self, and the most precious gift we possess: the gift of time. In that same vein, if you want to be serious about prayer and asceticism and the gift of your time, Catholic men must stand up and demand, as the Catechism insists, that their places of employment and other obligations do not interfere with their obligation to attend Sunday Mass, and to keep holy the Lord’s Day and other Holy Days. Consider how the Jews, who are 1.4% of the American population, in most major public school districts have demanded that their Holy Days be honored, so that their children may attend services. Our society was once almost 90% Christian, and yet we abandoned the Blue Laws and Sunday Mass with barely a scruple. I do not understand how a man can say he is dedicated to prayer if he is not dedicated to the Sabbath and to its observance in a Christian home. Sociologically speaking, regular religious observance, and the practice of the Father of the home are two most important factors which predict the religiosity of children. If God and prayer are not practically real for you, how can anyone else be expected to believe?
This brings me then to my third counsel on prayer: regularly practice adoration. By that I do not mean necessarily Eucharistic Adoration, although that occupies a prime place in our contemplative lives. I mean that stance of prayer which allows oneself to bask in the mystery of God, in the deep power and love that proceeds from him, and from him, into the world. Prayer joined to asceticism helps create the conditions in which adoration can occur. But it is precisely in adoration that the real magic in prayer happens. Anyone here who has experienced that knows exactly what I mean. This type of prayer is the most transformative, and the most ‘active’, in the sense that something is being done. Yet it is also in a sense quite ‘passive’, and is typically characterized as such in the Mystical Literature, precisely because it is in such a stance that you are like clay, able to be molded by the master’s hand. Adoration, as Bishop Barron is fond of saying, is derived from the Latin ad ore, or “to the mouth”. To adore is to be placed mouth-to-mouth with God. We may say that in a sense adoration is like learning to breathe, not with one’s own breath, but with the breath of the Spirit, breathed into us. Like the First Adam, we are filled with God’s breath, and so come alive in the spiritual order.
What is typically the result of consistent prayer, with a strong emphasis on asceticism and adoration? A man aspires more and more to divine and spiritual realities, and less and less to earthly ones. Typically, if we find ourselves not advancing in the spiritual life, one of these elements is missing. A man is either not consistent in his prayer, whether in time, place or quantity. Or he refuses to accept the cross, and by so refusing, he rejects the necessary detachment from the created order and from the overweening ego which true spirituality demands. Or, finally, if he refuses to adore, he deprives himself of the warmth, light and inner joy which comes from truly experiencing God. If prayer is not constant, it is like a fire without fuel. If prayer is not preceded by asceticism, it is like a plant without earth. If prayer is not contemplative, if it does not adore, it is like a relationship without love.
To review, my three tips on prayer are: to be consistent, to practice self-denial, and to adore. I would like to suggest, if possible, a fourth ‘tip’, one which is a necessary corrective I think to the hyper-individualization of spirituality nowadays: wherever possible, connect your prayer to the Church, and to the Liturgy. People talk all the time about their personal relationship with Jesus, or their prayer life, as if it were something purely personal. Prayer ought to be personal, in the sense that it touches a person’s heart and mind, but it is not solely or purely personal. Prayer is meant to be relational, and leads us not only to union with God, but union with other human beings. In the past fifty or so years, people have talked a lot about detaching from ‘organized religion’ because somehow organized religion, with its rituals and doctrines, are somehow stultifying to the mind and the heart. Far from it. Catholicism’s Liturgical Calendar is intimately bound up with the cues and rhythms of nature, and with the whole spectrum of human aspiration and experience. It offers ample sources for prayer and spiritual enrichment. We have a time for introspection and penance, like at Lent. We have a time for joy and exultation, like at Easter. We have a time for growth in the everyday, like at Ordinary Time. We have a time to recollect our mortality, like on All Souls Day. Every Christian home ought to direct its activity according to the Church’s Seasons, because it is commonly believed that God specifically distributes graces in accord with the prayers of the Church at particular times of the Liturgical Year. Of course, the foremost way to experience the Liturgical Year is through active and attentive participation at Holy Mass and in the recitation of the Liturgy of the Hours. Yes, the Liturgy of the Hours is for everyone! Additionally, there are a whole multitude of practices which have been completely neglected by Catholics as part of their patrimony, which are extremely helpful in buttressing a life of prayer. For instance, have you ever woven a Palm Cross? Have you ever visited a cemetery on the first eight days of November? How about lighting a bonfire and having a cookout on St. John the Baptist’s Feast Day? Or perhaps blessing wine on St. John the Evangelist’s Feast Day? How about blessing herbs and flowers, and the first fruits of a garden, on the Feast of the Assumption? Do you celebrate and honor the Festivals of your Patron Saints?
Think amongst yourselves how traditions, bound up with our beliefs, give flesh, so to speak, to the faith. Some of you may recall, or even practice, traditions like the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve, or pastries on St. Joseph’s Day. Being attached more and more to the Church and her Liturgy enriches you, and enriches the family. It adds spice and flavor to life. Modern secularism is bland and void. But you and I all know that nothing compares to the warmth of the memory of things like Christmas Carols, Easter Egg hunting with the little ones, or the Blessing of Homes. Children most especially, who are so visual in their learning, need around them images and practices which communicate to them something of the beauty and goodness of life, which is God’s gift. Following the Church’s Liturgy as my fourth tip also helps with the first three. Because the Church’s Liturgy repeats the same lessons year after year (because we are slow learners!), we have cause to be persistent in our prayers. The Church, with her fast-feast cycle, imprints upon the mind and soul the need for, and the practice of, both ascetical practice and holy feasting. Finally, the Church, in the dedication of her clergy and people together to a reverent and devout celebration of the Sacred Liturgy, opens the door to profound adoration.
Finally, I encourage you men: the fruit of your prayer must not simply be reduced to the private and hidden practice of your homes and churches. Christ has need of you to carry his message into every facet of the world. So many devout men, eager to give themselves to God, think that their service to God is discharged by remaining within the walls of the Church. The Church has been compared for centuries to Noah’s Ark; the Church is the vessel which protects us from eternal loss. But what is often overlooked is that the Ark is only built in order to conserve, and ultimately ‘repopulate’. When the waves subsided, Noah did not keep the animals in the Ark. He and his whole family departed, and from there, they rebuilt the world around them. You too miss your calling if you ‘stay in the ark.’ The Church has a finite need for cantors, sacristans and lectors. What she and Christ will never stop needing is for men to go out and witness in the world. Take the power and grace which flows from prayer, both inside and outside of the Liturgy, and let it out. In that way, your light will shine before men, so that they will glorify our Heavenly Father.
