“I don’t pray very well by myself, and therefore I am always grateful for a larger surrounding system of prayer that sweeps me up and it carries me along, makes up for my inadequacies.”
These are the words of Father J. Bryan Hehir, a Catholic priest well known for his church leadership and currently the dean of Harvard Divinity School. His surprising admission about not praying well was made at a public forum last spring at which scholars discussed their religious identity.
Two parts of this statement merit attention. First, for this priest, long experienced in the spiritual life, prayer does not come easily. And second, he finds his inadequacies in private prayer counterbalanced by belonging to a community of faith.
Of course, the prayer that he is talking about here is the prayer of silence or, at least, of few words. This kind of contemplation differs from the kind that relies mainly on words, either spoken aloud or repeated within mind or heart. Some people rely mainly on spoken prayers and may not experience the same difficulties that mark prayer that is often called “mental.”
For me, what Father Hehir says about the difficulty of wordless prayer comes as welcome self-disclosure. In revealing his inner experience, he gives me hope because I, too, find prayer difficult. Perhaps others will be encouraged in their own attempts at praying by knowing that it does not flow easily for a person of his spiritual credentials.
The second part of his statement also touches me. In sharing with an audience how he compensates for his own inadequacies in prayer, Father Hehir gives a convincing reason for being part of a community that is committed to worship. In this instance, he is talking about the Church to which he has belonged since birth.
His words “sweeps me up and carries me along” suggest more than mere membership in that community, however. They describe something dynamic: an ongoing process whereby a spiritual force seizes him and propels him further along the spiritual journey.
For me also, belonging to a community of faith has long meant having a share in the spiritual strength that comes with access to the prayers of other people. They can compensate for my own spiritual shortcomings. I am glad at not having to go it alone spiritually. It is not all up to me.
That feeling also marks my attitude toward the five-person prayer group to which I have belonged for the last several years. Often I find myself staggering through the half-hour of silence when we sit with one another, eyes shut and attention gently fixed. Sometimes I battle the impulse to fall asleep; much of the time I fend off distracting thoughts that flood over me. But knowing that others are engaged in the same spiritual enterprise buoys me up and gives me needed courage.
For people devoted to frequent prayer, their experience of this prayer is not always difficult, of course. In times of feeling good about themselves, when welcome events are happening in their lives, their hearts can feel full and they may even find it easy to turn to God in prayers of thanksgiving.
For some, prayer may have become a comfortable habit as they have grown older. A researcher looking into the prayer life of older women has reported this of them: “Over the course of their lives, prayer has become more simple, more intimate, more meaningful, more flexible and open.”
It sounds as if their prayer life is harmonious and free of hassles. But even for these women, there will almost inevitably be occasions when praying gets to be a chore rather than a consolation. Dryness then becomes the main interior atmosphere during the time set aside for prayer and the temptation to give it up feels overwhelming.
Then you might be feeling what British author C. S. Lewis refers to as “the abyss of silence from which no echo comes back.” Mystics of various traditions have given often eloquent expression to this kind of nothingness. That is a time when you might feel especially grateful for belonging to a community of faith equipped to “sweep you up and carry you along.”
Richard Griffin