Also follow Fr. Paul at his personal website - mtmonk.com

Copyright © 2011-2018 William Paul McKane. All rights reserved.

27 June 2013

Exploratory Thoughts on Prayer: Part II

 
A.  “Is special grace needed?”
 The following responds to several questions from a young man, a former student of mine, who read my brief “Exploratory thoughts on prayer.”  His questions are very good, and it should be worthwhile for us to consider the questions and my answers, as both may throw some light on the activity of prayer.  I indent his material below
You mentioned in your recent blog that prayer could be the response of man to the presence of the Divine and that in prayer, one listens as the Divine speaks. Does this imply that one needs a special grace in order to pray? And that God could choose to give that grace or abstain from giving that grace to a specific person? If a man struggles to pray, does he not have this grace or is he just lazy? What is the human element of prayer and what is the Divine?
First, dear friend, I would say that genuine prayer is always a response to divine prompting, and is in reality a work both of the human being and of the divine partner. If one thinks that he is praying on his own, then I would say that either he lacks living faith, or is oddly blind to the presence of God at work in him. By living faith I mean what St. Thomas Aquinas calls the fides caritate formata, faith formed [or enlivened] by charity. This conception apparently draws from the Apostle Paul’s words to the churches of Galatia, in which he insists that what matters is simply “faith working through love.”  Love is always a form of union of lover and beloved. If one trusts that God loves him, and loves in return, then there is indeed a real union, a kind of “circle of love.” On the other hand, if one prayed as if to a “God out there,” to “God in heaven,” without understanding that heaven is the presence of God, then the problem is not only a misunderstanding of prayer, but an imaginative divorcing of God from one’s consciousness or soul. And this imaginative alienation from God is highly common in our society, among “believers” and “agnostics” alike. This act of imagination in effect treats God not as a partner in reality, but as a kind of being separated from consciousness and from reality as we know it. Indeed, a primary problem in the history of Christianity at least since about the 16th century or so is this splitting of the divine from living presence in reality. In other words, modern Christianity has often presented God as a separate being, without communicating to the faithful the reality of the divine that encompasses each and all.  In short, in discussing prayer and problems of prayer, we must also make sure to avoid misunderstandings about who or what God is. Prayer ought to be a response to the living God, not a self-willed exercise towards an imagined “God,” perhaps constructed in imagination during childhood. On the other hand, religious beliefs may well serve as something like training wheels to move one gradually into more genuine prayer.

Next, you ask about needing a special grace to pray, and you draw out the logic of your question:  “Does this imply that God could choose to give that grace or abstain from giving that grace to a specific person?” My first response is caution, because I feel that we could be drawn into the kind of speculating on what happens “inside God” in a way that may be “theological,” but is beyond the realm of reason, of philosophy. For my part, I find speculation on “God’s election” and choosing some and not others to be disturbing and moving in the wrong direction. Let me begin from our side of the divine-human partnership, from concrete experience: the divine is available to each and to all, or we would not be human beings. It is the presence of God in the divine-human soul (psyche) that makes us what and who we are. God is present to us by who God is, and we can access the divine presence by who we are. Using Christian language, all of humankind makes up “the body of Christ,” really or potentially, as St. Thomas explained. It is “our nature” to be in God--or, if one prefers, to be in tension towards God. Surely some choose to neglect divine presence, blinding their own intellects to what is present, as St. Bonaventure described it, but I will surely not attribute such blindness to a fault in God. To claim that God graces some and not others, in my opinion, not only falsely speculates on God, but attributes extraordinary injustice to the Almighty. The question you raise almost sounds as though it comes from the Calvinist tradition, but apparently it is found among Catholics, too: that some may not be able to pray because they “lack the grace.” Whether those who neglect God are lazy or not (the sin of acedia, of spiritual laziness), one detects in their refusal to respond to the divine presence in them a willful act of resistance. Cicero called it “a rejection of reason,” using “reason” (ratio) in the sense discovered by the Greek philosophers as divine-human mutual participation. 

Now, your questions can also be taken to point in a different direction, and we shall explore it briefly. God breaks into some souls in extraordinary ways, as we see in Moses, the Hebrew prophets, Jesus, the Apostle Paul; and in Greeks known for their response to God, such as Hesiod, Parmenides, Heracleitos, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus. The truly great spiritualists of history, be they prophets, saints, philosophers, or sages, as far as we know from their writings, had unique experiences of divine presence in them. Paul’s vision of the resurrected Christ, for example in unlike anything found in the Hebrew prophets or in the Greek philosophers.  Now, the prayer-response of Socrates would be different from that of the Apostle Paul, as each man had different experiences of God. But both men responded to the presence--the “grace”--received. When the divine breaks into consciousness in an extraordinary way, then one would expect that person to respond differently. I interpret Plato’s dialogues as a response to his experience in the divine breaking into his soul, with his use of intellect to explore the experiences; and I interpret the letters of Paul as grounded in his experiences of the Resurrected Christ, and his intense awareness of Christ / the Spirit of Christ at work in his consciousness (soul). 

So in this sense, divine grace varies. But to maintain that some souls are outside of God, and receive no divine impulses, conveys, I believe, a bizarre conception of God as willful, capricious, even demonic if God causes human beings to be ungraced, beyond the pale of his ordering presence. Furthermore, we are not isolated beings. What God did for Moses, God did for all who will respond to that divine action. Moses and the other outstanding spiritualists are representative of humankind. (Note: I often quote Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s famous question in Emile, “Did God speak to Moses to speak to Jean-Jacques?”  And I say:  “You bet he did, and you ought to pay heed, and quit playing your introspective game of self-salvation.”)  What happened to the representative receivers of these great “revelations” happened in them and through them for all who respond with loving trust (faith).  You and I may respond as Moses did: humbly obey the leading of God in ways we never expected; and keep wondering, “Who are you, LORD?”  To claim that our faith is “apostolic” means that we receive gratefully, and meditate on, divine revelations to the apostles, such as Peter and Paul; through accepting what God did in them, we are partakers of the same “grace.”  Who is excluded? Only those who refuse to “open up” to the presence of God, or what in Christian tradition has often been called “the Holy Spirit.” If one is in the dark, one can wait in faith. Rebellion and the “will to power”- the way of our friend Nietzsche--is not forced on one's consciousness. One may stop playing games, stop “putting on masks,” and recognize and respond to the truth of reality as it presents itself. Reality--including the divine partner--is the measure, the standard, not one's own ego, imagination, beliefs, or wishes. What matters is the truth of reality.

     B. On distractions in prayer
My friend also asked about the problem of “distractions” in prayer.  His main points: 
To respond to your question regarding types of distractions I encounter during prayer, the list !is manifold. There are the minor distractions of a neglected duty, a physical discomfort, a memory of a recent conversation or event that I partook in.  And there is the major distraction of a noisy mind.
“Distractions” are to prayer as various personal challenges or emotional problems are to friendship or marriage. The divine attracts us to himself.  We are drawn, moved. Various forces attract us in other directions, or “distract” us from God. In overcoming distracting pulls away from God, we do indeed grow in genuine self-giving love for God, or in other words, become more like God, and surely develop firmer, more noble character.  For example: A young man, working in his father’s shop, encounters a pretty young girl one day, who evidently likes him, and is even a little flirtatious. Although friendly to her, this prudent young man knows the proper boundaries, and by resisting an inward pull to get close to her, in any excessive way, he grows in his faithful love to his beloved wife. That is how it is with distractions: Love grows stronger and more true by being tested. Perhaps we all encounter various distractions while in public prayer, as in liturgy. If the distractions are visual, one may advert or even close one’s eyes.  If they are auditory--such as crying children--one can accept them for what they are, not become judgmental or angry, and try to keep one’s conscious attention on the public prayer or preached word.  Distractions are much more distracting when we actively engage them, get angry, or think about them. In struggling against such distractions we gain inner peace. In personal prayer or meditation of any kind, of course distractions will arise, because our consciousness is not simple, but subject to various pulls. If you are seeking God, then seek God, regardless of other thoughts or feelings that should arise--even obsessive thoughts, such as a repeatedly heard tune or phrase, or memories of that pretty young lady. Let them be, or, if you prefer, place them “under the cloud of forgetfulness,” as the author of The Cloud of Unknowing instructs his readers.  

 ***
Now I will get more specific and concrete based on my experiences in prayer.  I thrive with several kinds of prayer: The first kind of prayer is by closely studying a text that draws my attention towards God (such as reading a Gospel, a letter by the Apostle, or a Platonic dialogue). A second way is by meditating or thinking about God or the divine-human relationship. A third way is by writing down my thoughts and exploring them as I seek to be conscious of God. A fourth and I think most complete and truly satisfying way is not to entertain any particular thoughts about God, but by seeking God as God is, or simply “letting God be God,” the method carefully explained in the Cloud.

The kind of distractions one experiences, and how to handle them, vary with the kind of prayer. When studying a text, I simply attempt to keep my attention on the words, and to think about their meaning with as much clarity and understanding as I can muster. In this form of prayer, one may indeed entertain thoughts, as long as they are related to what one is studying. 

Second, when thinking about God in meditation, one must be attentive and sift and weigh each thought for its truth, in light of truth already understood. One seeks to expand the range of one’s divine awareness, and to deepen the sense of union. Whatever aids in this goal is good. When one attempts to sit still and alone in God’s presence, without any thought, but simply stretching out the soul into the divine presence, then any particular sensation, feeling, or thought is a distraction. What one does is not to engage the distraction, not to think about it, or dwell on it, but let it as it were drift on downstream, as the mind keeps watchfully alert towards the One present. This technique is only learned by practice: sit still and be alert to God’s presence. In the kind of prayer that employs concentrated writing can serve as a remarkable check on distractions. In other words, I recommend that on occasion one sit quietly and write out one’s praying-activity, because the concentration needed to write focuses the mind, and keeps diverting one away from distractions. Consciousness can fragment in various directions within a few moments of time, but thoughtful writing (as distinct from mere daydreaming on paper) forces consciousness to focus.  If distractions happen to arise (such as hearing a disturbing noise in the street), one does not dwell on that sound, but thinks about forming and writing thoughts on the page. Indeed, I highly recommend the exercise of writing prayer, with one special caveat: Beware of excessive introspection in any way. Generally, introspection has replaced meditation in our culture. We dwell on ourselves. Think about and towards God, and keep your attention God-ward. Keep self-referential thoughts in check.

More to follow.