Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

A great many Americans, especially those no longer young, will remember learning this prayer in their childhood. Parents of many different faith traditions passed it on to their children to say at night before they went off to sleep. It was easy to learn because of its rhymes and its rhythm. In addition, only one word, the word “before,” has more than one syllable.

My memory of this prayer, beloved by so many, stirred this past week when I received for review a new book called “As I Lay Dying: Meditations Upon Returning.” Written by Richard John Neuhaus, this slim volume offers the reflections of a priest who very nearly died after surgery for cancer. To my surprise I discovered that Father Neuhaus continues to say this prayer as an adult.

He also surprised me by mentioning the distant origins of the prayer. Its model is commonly said to have been a Latin prayer published in 1160. This twelfth-century work was apparently a later edition of one from the hand of Pope Leo III who became famous for crowning Charlemagne in the year 800.

After researching its origins further, I discovered the reason why so many Americans came to know the prayer. It entered into this country’s culture through a book published in Boston by Benjamin Harris, who emigrated there from England in 1686. Sometime between 1687 and 1690, it seems, he issued a little book that would become famous in America.

He included the “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep” prayer in The New England Primer which became a basic schoolbook among the Puritans in the American colonies. It was a catechism intended for children and illustrated with engravings designed to hold their attention. In addition to questions and answers about their religion, boys and girls could find pious sayings and simple prayers. The famous prayer under discussion here did not appear until the edition of 1737; from then on it became widely known.

The author of an introduction to one edition of the New England Primer says of its author: “Harris deserves notice as a confirmed scribbler .  .  . To this was added an ardent love of the Protestant religion, and an equal hatred of the Pope and all that this implies.” Presumably, he would have felt bewildered had he known how many Catholic children like me were to learn the prayer he had printed.

To test its current reputation, I recently asked a group of college undergraduates if they had heard of the prayer. My informal survey produced near unanimity: almost to a person these young men and women knew of it.

The prayer itself offers surprisingly rich spiritual content. It reveals a trust in God that helps explain why adults like Father Neuhaus continue to make use of it. It breathes the spirituality of abandonment, that is, the handing over of one’s security to God.

No matter what happens, even sudden death, the person praying remains confident of remaining in the care of the Lord. In its own way, the prayer accords with the words of Jesus on the cross: “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit.”

This kind of commitment to divine providence does not come easy. Despite the simple and almost sentimental language of the prayer, actually trusting oneself to God requires deep faith and spiritual maturity.

A newspaper colleague has told me that he finds the prayer “scary.” He considers its message about death too disturbing to be given to children. But, in past centuries, death came to young people much more often than it does today, at least in middle-class America. And, to judge from my reading of The New England Primer, the religion of the people who used it was stern and rigorous.

Those modern-day adults who have adopted these words as a good night prayer and have gone to sleep repeating it as a form of commitment to God no doubt find it a more flexible and consoling private ritual. For them, it can express a deep spirituality and a loving attachment to the source of their lives.

Richard Griffin

“What a great time to be a Catholic!” said my friend, jauntily but clearly using words laced with irony. She was referring to the crisis of confidence that many members of her church are feeling now.  

Revelations about widespread sexual abuse of children by priests in the Archdiocese of Boston have shaken the trust long placed in the leadership of the church. As many as 70 members of the clergy have been accused of these crimes and the cardinal archbishop, by his own admission, has been guilty of placing some of these priests in positions where they could continue doing grievous harm.

Outrage has been the response of many church members. Parents, especially, have felt betrayed by the priests’ criminal actions that have damaged their children. But those not directly affected also feel deeply resentful about the crimes and confess a chagrin and embarrassment at events that have so shockingly come to light.

Among the most deeply discomfited are those priests who have remained faithful shepherds of their parishes. These members of the clergy, the great majority, have suffered pain at what has been done by their fellow priests. They feel that the good name of the priesthood has been dragged through mud and that the harm done to their profession is incalculable. One told friends recently: “Anyone would have to be crazy to enter the seminary now.”

How can members of the church respond spiritually in this time of severe crisis? What spiritual guidelines exist to help Catholics and others to deal with the mix of emotions they are experiencing?

First, righteous anger is surely justified in response to the terrible sins committed against defenseless children. Jesus himself, in the Gospel of St. Matthew, spoke angrily about such crimes, suggesting that their perpetrators would face dire punishment.

Secondly, church members have a right to hold their religious leaders accountable for failures to protect them against such crimes. By their protest against such negligence they affirm the ideals of a church committed to the teachings of Jesus.

Third, the crisis can be recognized as a time for important changes in the church. In fact, the archbishop has already announced some changes but others, not originating with him, may be needed. Many Americans other than Catholic clergy have shamefully abused children, but the history of this kind of abuse by ordained members of the church raises basic questions about recruitment, admission policies, and the exclusively male identity of those responsible for ministry.

As for the spirituality of church members, some truths need to be reemphasized. One must be wary of hypocrisy, not only in others who hold positions of sacred trust, but also in oneself. To maintain spiritual balance, we must be ready to expect others to be always less than perfect and sometimes much less. At their best, spiritual people will recognize their own temptations to betray the precious ideals of the faith they espouse.

It is spiritually important also not to place ultimate faith and trust in human beings, but in God. Jesus recommends this, in St. Mark’s Gospel, when he says to a young man, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.”

Catholics, like those of other traditions, belong to a community of faith made up of people whose conduct is exemplary, and of others who behave very badly. In one of his parables about a sower, Jesus indicates that among the good seeds in the field, weeds will be found as well.

The current crisis also calls for maintaining peace of soul. For people who have been violated, that will be very difficult, if not impossible, while they suffer the effects of betrayal. However, even for them it is spiritually important to pray for interior peace and gifts of divine consolation. In time, they may also ask God for the gift of being able to forgive those who have done them grievous harm.

Evil remains a mystery even to the most profound thinkers. In those who have aspired to the noblest ideals of service to God and the community, evil is especially baffling. In the face of such betrayal it may help to remember that God alone deserves absolute trust and that we must continually search our own hearts and pray for the strength to live honestly with fidelity to other people.

Richard Griffin

An event that occurred on January 24 deserves much more attention than it has thus far received. On that day, in Assisi, the town in Italy associated with Saint Francis, representatives of virtually all the world’s religions came together to speak out for peace and nonviolence. All of them had traveled to this picturesque hill town from Rome on a special “peace train.”

Pope John Paul II had planned this “Day of Prayer for Peace” in order to get backing for his conviction that there is “no religious goal that can possibly justify the use of violence of man against man.”

The leaders, some 250 in all, joined together in saying: “Violence never again! Terrorism never again! In the name of God, may every religion bring upon the earth justice and peace, forgiveness and life, love.”

As photos taken of the event suggest, it must have been impressive to see these leaders sitting in rows alongside their host, John Paul II. Garbed in long robes of various colors, with most of them wearing headdresses of differing design and hue, these guests displayed the diversity of the world’s faiths.

Bringing them together was a major accomplishment in itself. Getting the agreement of all of them added something special to that first achievement. Pope John Paul clearly “was calling in credits,” as one journalist reported, credits built up over his entire 24-year tenure as Bishop of Rome.

Individual passages of the joint statement were read by individual leaders, each in that person’s own language. Patriarch Bartholomew I of Constantinople led the way by reading the words known as the Golden Rule: “Do to others what you would have them do to you.”

Bhaia Sahisbji Singh, the Sikh representative, read the assembly’s promise to educate people to “mutual respect and esteem.”

A French rabbi, Samuel René Sirat, speaking in Hebrew, read the passage that calls on leaders of nations to create “a world of solidarity and peace based on justice.”

The Buddhist, Nichiko Niwano, speaking in Japanese, called for “solidarity and understanding between peoples” and cautioned about technology that “exposes the world to a growing risk of destruction and death.”

While their joint statement was being read out, the delegates held in their hands lamps fashioned for the occasion by an artist nun. At the end of the general announcement each person placed his lamp on a tripod that will remain in the basilica of St. Francis as a memorial of the historic meeting.

As suggested by the names already cited here, the extent of representation from the religions of the world was truly impressive. Among those gathered together were thirty Muslim leaders coming from Middle Eastern countries – –  Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt – – as well as from Pakistan. In a break from previous policy, a representative from the Patriarch of Moscow attended. So did the Patriarch of Constantinople, along with Sikhs, Confucians, Buddhists, animists, and others.

Jewish leaders and Protestants took part along with the Zoroastrians and Hindus. After the general assembly, the distinct religious groups came together separately to offer their own prayers.

The Assisi meeting was obviously meant to counteract spiritually the horrific attacks of September 11. The pope’s intention, ratified by so many other leaders from around the world, was to refute in particular the terrorist view that justifies violence in the name of religion. Unanimously, religious groups, large and small, reject this view as a perversion of true religious values.

Holding the meeting in the town where St. Francis was born, lived and died was clearly the best place possible. After all, he is a saint universally admired for his commitment to peace among people and with the world of living things. His life demonstrated how a person, because of loving God, can love other people and all of creation.

If this spirit, manifest that day in Assisi, can take permanent hold among the world’s religions, then the meeting will prove to have been an historic milestone indeed. A point often made is that world peace can only come about if the religions of the world are at peace with one another. If so, this event has significance for the future of our global society.

Richard Griffin

On January 2nd, Chester Nimitz, Jr. and his wife, Joan Nimitz, committed suicide in the continuing care retirement community where they resided. They overdosed on sleeping pills and thus brought to an end long lives filled with adventure.

The jointly planned and carefully executed suicide of the Nimitz spouses has deservedly received widespread attention across the country. This action by two people with a famous name raises issues of great spiritual importance.

The husband, Chester Nimitz, Jr., was 86 years old and his wife, Joan, 89. They had been afflicted in recent years with serious ailments that made them wary of a future filled with disability and dependence. With efficiency typical of them, they determined to end their own lives together rather than suffer further illness.

I could never blame anyone for doing what the Nimitzes did. It is easy to understand why they took this drastic action in their old age. Everyone can sympathize with their desire not to experience further illnesses and the progressive loss of control over their own bodies.

But what they did violates my own spiritual values. Their action goes against a life-long ingrained conviction of mine that human destiny is in the hands of God. Of course, some end-of-life choices remain ours to make but, in my view, suicide is not one of them.

Though I could imagine killing myself under extreme duress, doing so would go against my conscience. I would be betraying my instinct never to do violence to the life given me as gift.

In these judgments I freely admit being guided by the basic teachings of my own religious tradition. As a child I was taught that my life came from God who created freely out of love.

Being God’s creature meant to reverence my life and preserve it from harm. As the catechism says, “We are stewards, not owners, of the life God has entrusted to us. It is not ours to dispose of.”   

My community of faith finds another motive for the sacredness of human life in the redemptive work of Jesus. Through baptism, believers have taken on a new identity and share in the life of Christ.

“You are not your own, you have been bought at a great price,” St. Paul, one of this community’s most eloquent spokesman, affirms. This mystical identification with Christ is what it means to be a Christian at its deepest level.

My spiritual community’s covenant of love with God excludes suicide. Belonging to Christ gives believers a spiritual freedom that extends widely. Ideally it delivers us from the false gods of money, power, and reputation.

But this faith also brings with it certain constraints, one of them being that we do not have the power to determine when we shall live and when we shall die.

That does not mean needing my life artificially extended past any hope of worthwhile living. No one is obliged to prolong his or her life by so-called extraordinary means. It is perfectly acceptable to stop using breathing machines, for example, when patients can no longer benefit from them.

I realize that even some of those who share my tradition may not share my convictions about suicide. When I shared my views of the Nimitz case with some close friends last week, I was surprised to discover that some of them look with favor on what the Nimitzes did.

Though these friends place a high value on our religious tradition, they still would feel free to avert such situations as suffering years of Alzheimer’s or Lou Gehrig’s disease before dying. They also argue that maybe the Church will ultimately change its position on suicide as it did long ago on usury, and has since then on other issues.

Still I regard the suicide of the Nimitzes with deep misgivings. It strikes me as another form of rationalism that clashes with spirituality. Though I admit that some spiritually-minded people might kill themselves rather than face a future of suffering, I still consider their action as out of harmony with a spiritual view of the world.

Hope in God is the bedrock of this worldview, something that I hope will sustain me when my end draws near.

Richard Griffin

Bob Atchley is a scholar in the field of aging, a man with a wide reputation for writing and teaching. A textbook he first wrote long ago has gone through nine editions and has extended his influence across the country.

But Professor Atchley is not much interested in professional success. Rather, he directs his chief focus toward the spiritual life and makes that the center of his work. That is why he decided some ten years ago to leave the university where he was teaching and join the faculty at the Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado.

Naropa educates people to incorporate Buddhist spirituality into their learning and their professional work. In doing this, it hopes to transform the work that caregivers and others do into an activity that promotes growth in the spirit. Bob Atchley sees this as a distinctive approach to education whereby students will learn how to help both themselves and those they serve to profit spiritually from their work.

Meanwhile, Professor Atchley continues his own research into the spiritual life of real people. In recent times, he has been investigating spirituality in older people. His findings, still tentative, would seem to have meaning, not only for older people, but for people of all ages.

In a recent interview, he disclosed a threefold scheme that identifies spiritually the older people he has talked with.

He calls the first group “Elders in Training.” These he describes as people who have begun to place importance on their “inner work.” They are trying to nurture the spirit within their souls. They are also looking for role models and for ways to get involved in the community.

The second group is made up of “Actualized Spiritual Elders.” They have deepened their connection to God, the Absolute, Nirvana, what some have called “the Divine Ground of Being.”

Speaking of the spiritual connection that people in this second group have, Atchley says: “It’s not going away; they live from that connection day in and day out. They are on boards, involved in service capacities, tutoring kids, but in a different way.” This difference lies in the way these people connect their community service with their interior life.

The third group he calls “Transcendent Elders.” They live beyond this world. Few people, he believes, ever get to this stage but nevertheless it remains valuable as an ideal. And some of the ordinary people around us, whom we perhaps see every day, might surprise us if we knew the details of their interior life.

Atchley cites a blind man in his 90s: “He was radiantly at peace, wonderful to be around.” This man found strength in the biblical passages and the poetry that he had memorized when young. Drawing on these sources, the same man overcame a mild depression and came to know peace of heart.

In talking with others like this man, Atchley has found the shared factor drawing them is a hunger for a connection with spirit. “By 75 or 80, people don’t buy what the culture tells them is attractive or valuable,” he says. Instead, they want something deeper and more meaningful.

Drawing on his knowledge of other spiritual traditions, Atchley calls the Hindu tradition relevant to this scheme, “The Hindus did a good job of mapping the stages,” he explains. They speak of a threefold Yoga or spiritual discipline: the Yoga of Understanding, the Yoga of Service, and the Yoga of Devotion.

Bob Atchley cites a person he considers a striking model of the third stage of spiritual development. “He’s a brilliant guy who spends time driving a school bus and taking care of poor people. His inner life is astounding.”

Many people prefer simply to live by the spirit without concern for where they may be on some scale of perfection. But such schemes at least remind us that the spiritual life is dynamic, it does not stand still. To be engaged in it is to be on an adventure, an interior journey that leads us toward mystery.

And a scheme like Bob Atchley’s helps us appreciate mottos like one of my favorites. “Finding God in all things” was the guiding ideal of St. Ignatius of Loyola and has retained its power over almost five centuries. This ideal cannot be arrived at quickly. It takes a long time to make this a spiritual motto that can empower daily life.

Richard Griffin

The 14th century German mystic and spiritual teacher known as Meister Eckhart made two statements about time that continue to stir reflection in me.

The first is this: “Time is what keeps the light from reaching us.”

What can that saying possibly mean? Because of my own longstanding problems with time, I can offer some explanation.

During the years of my religious training long ago, I became obsessed with the need to use time efficiently. My spiritual father urged me and my fellow novices not to waste time but instead to place high value on each moment. Yet we were exhorted to stand ready to break off each activity and move on to the next at the sound of a bell.

This discipline had the unwelcome effect of making me focus more on time than on each activity for itself. It was an altogether too rigid scheme that took away spontaneity and pleasure in many of my actions. Eventually it led to an obsessive focus on time that became damaging.

Thus I learned first-hand how time can block the light. My spiritual life suffered from a preoccupation with time instead of attention to God’s voice within. Having lost some of the freedom of soul that was my birthright, I was less available to the light sent my way by God.

For many people in the modern world the light has become blocked by reason of their workaholism. If you hardly ever stop working, then it is difficult to become aware of the spirit within you. The 24/7 ideal, so fashionable in contemporary America, clashes with spirituality. Time thus becomes an obstacle to the enlightenment that can transform human life.

One of the goods that has emerged from the evil of the September 11th attacks on America is a recasting of priorities on the part of not a few people. The dire events of this fall have served as a wakeup call for these men and women.

My former next-door neighbor, a young German computer specialist, used to leave the house for his office early in the morning. Almost invariably as he walked down the street, he would already be talking on his cell phone, presumably on the day’s business.

In the weeks following September 11th, however, he decided to go back home to Germany. The traumatic events of that day convinced him that family members and friends were more important than success in business.

People who must hold more than one job in order to make ends meet are a special case. They cannot, of course, be blamed for lacking leisure. Rather, American society bears some responsibility for them being so burdened by economic need that they have no time off. It harms society that these workers have so little time to spend with family members, friends, and others.

The second statement of Meister Eckhart goes as follows: “There is no greater obstacle to God than time.”

At first sight, these words seem clearly an exaggeration. Is not sin a greater obstacle than time?

But here again the mystic probably alludes to a concentration on time that interferes with the free play of human imagination and emotion. God wants us to be happy, I was taught as a child and still believe. Yet becoming fixated on time can interfere with happiness and cause us to lose all delight in creation.

When we become afraid of time, this too inhibits our spiritual life. We fear that we do not have enough to fulfill our ambitions. Or we become afraid of becoming old. Many Americans cringe at the thought of reaching 30, or 40, 50, 60, 70. This refusal to accept the gift of life as it is given can easily become an obstacle to spiritual growth.

Put positively, these realities can expand our being. If we welcome each day as a gift suitable for enjoying, this will go far to make our spirit sing. If we embrace each birthday as a reminder of the blessings of life, this can lift up our spirit as well.

With this attitude, we can challenge the sayings of Meister Eckhart and turn his negatives into positives. In this way we can allow time to become for us both an opening to the light and a nearer approach to God.

Richard Griffin

On December 14th I fasted. This fact does not count as significant news, but it does raise questions worth exploring. Perhaps this will justify my going against the express command of Jesus. In St. Matthew’s Gospel, he says: “When you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret.”

My reason for fasting was a call sent out by Pope John Paul II to the world’s Catholics proposing that we do so. He timed the date for the last day of Ramadan, the month-long period of fasting that Muslims observe each year. The pope’s intention was to synchronize this act of self-denial so as to help build mutual understanding between Christians and Muslims.

Fasting has never been easy for me. Because of a life-long habit of eating between meals, I find it especially difficult to refrain from food for long periods of time. So whenever an occasion for fasting arises, I discover strong reluctance in myself.

However, this time, as always, I felt the benefits of not eating more than a little food during the day. As monks and others who have made fasting a way of life can attest, this practice sharpens a person’s spiritual sensitivity. As that Friday went on, I noticed the presence of the spirit in me more than I ordinarily do.

This change is subtle, easy to miss. But fasting does draw attention to an inner space where the spirit is at work. Though I continued to feel physically deprived, I also felt spiritually enriched and moved to interior dialogue. I also was aware at times of the solidarity I felt with other people – – Muslims, Christians and others – – who had chosen to join in this spiritual exercise.

However, I also confess looking forward with eagerness to the dinner that would come after darkness had set in. Even there, I experienced the spiritual benefit of appreciating more than usual the activity of eating delicious food with enjoyment.

Granted that the good effects of fasting in the life of an individual like me can be recognized, does the practice have any further value? Does it change anything outside the lives of those who take up the practice?

These questions may not be needed by people for whom spirituality is important. Many of us do not require convincing that our fasts have an effect on the world outside. We spontaneously believe that we help, not just ourselves, but other people whom we do not even know.

For people like us, there is a reservoir of good actions done by us and others that has value for the world. This pool of virtue, we believe, can and does benefit our brothers and sisters everywhere in the world. Goodness remains available to others who can draw on it when they need or wish.

This belief can sound utterly unrealistic. Level-headed modern inhabitants of the 21st century may scoff at such imaginations. And yet, I have discovered, some scientists at Princeton University are trying to discover something similar.

They call it “global consciousness.” These scientists say: “We are looking for evidence of a developing global consciousness that might perceive and react to events with deep meaning.”

Specifically, they have focused on the events of September eleventh and believe they have found evidence of a reaction throughout the world. Their network registered “an unmistakable and profound response,” they report.

Instruments based at Princeton registered such a strong response to the catastrophe that the patterns suggest a unity of consciousness widespread in the world. The scientists do not know exactly what to make of this phenomenon but they suppose something like this: “The riveting events drew us from our individual concerns and melded us into an extraordinary coherence. Maybe we became, briefly, a global consciousness.”

I cannot vouch for any validity in this approach but I do find it fascinating. My knowledge of it comes from an article sent me over the Internet by a friend interested in spirituality. My friend, a person of good judgment, says of the Princeton experiment: “What it means to me is that prayer, meditation, thought represent real energy with real effect and impact.”

The article was written by Bernadette Cahill for the Mountain Times of Boone, North Carolina and is entitled “Scientific Proof of Global Consciousness May Be Emerging.” More information is available at the project’s web site: www.noosphere.princeton.edu. [link no longer active]

Richard Griffin