On Praying In The Spirit

Our spiritual journey is from life-in-self to life-in-God. The way is following Christ by the working of the Spirit as we move into the luminous darkness of the unknown God, named “Father” in our Christian tradition. We call that which is beyond all name and form “Father” because Christ addressed divine reality as “Father.” Through the faith of Christ, as “children of God,” we have communion with the same divine mystery. By God the Spirit we move toward and into God, leaving behind the Babylon of a self-enclosed existence, in which oneself is one’s own Lord, guide, master, owner. Ultimately, self-enclosed existence is “hell.” 

By “the Holy Spirit” we refer to the divine presence at work in our souls—that is, in our minds and hearts. The Spirit gives us an undying yet ever changing sense of communion with that which we call “God,” who is ever beyond our understanding. The divine is “known” through love, not through conceptual knowledge (words). The Spirit is “the love of God poured into our hearts” (Romans 5), and the power enabling us to love one another—indeed, every creature—as a being in divine Being. To the lover of God, every being, everything that exists, is a manifestation of the ultimate mystery. To one moved by the Spirit, every creature is a revelation of the unseen God, a unique and unrepeatable presentation of He Who Is, YHWH. 

In the Eucharistic celebration (the Mass), we pray in words, because our prayer is at once individual and communal, and as such is spoken or sung aloud. In solitude, or “when two or three are gathered in my Name,” then we grow silent, and allow the Spirit to pray in us, with us, through us, for us. Genuine prayer is always the work of the holy Spirit, not of a self-centered or self-contained human being. If we seek to pray without an awareness of the presence of the Spirit, we are talking at our image of God, rather than communing with God. The less one works, the more one trusts the divine Presence, the more genuine and fruitful the prayer, “Now I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2). If one must use words in prayer, let the words be taught by the Spirit, not generated by one’s private imagination or ego. The words taught by the Spirit are understood by the Spirit, and may or may not be intelligible to the human being sharing in the prayer. Better still is to be still and quiet, resting yet attentive to the One who simply is utterly simple, here and now, beyond all words and concepts, beyond feelings and imaginings. In the prayer of quiet, one becomes quiet, like a lake without wind, waveless, a sea of glass before the divine source. In stillness one abides in divine stillness. 

Beginning shortly after Pentecost this year, we shall offer sessions on prayer. When and where to offer these practical sessions remains open, but St. Mary’s, Raynesford, seems to be a very good setting for prayer of quiet. Perhaps another weekly session could be offered at St. Mark’s on a week-night, concurrently or at a later time. Thought will be given to times and locations, and suggestions are welcomed, but all wishes may not be met. Sitting in silence: “When I sent you out, with nothing, did you lack anything?

Gardening

I have often pointed out that the Evangelist John delights in the use of symbols, double-meanings, and dramatic irony. An example of his irony we heard on Good Friday, when John allows the priests to shout out to Pilate, “We have no king but caesar,” expressing their rejection of Yahweh as King. A good example of double-meaning occurs on the cross, again only in John’s Gospel, when Jesus succinctly says, “I thirst.” Literally, the man is dying of thirst; at a deeper level, Christ is fulfilling his own word, “When I am lifted up, I will draw all human beings to myself.” Christ is thirsty for souls. Or if you prefer, he is the magnet by which we are being drawn into God.

Whenever one reads any of the canonical Gospels, and especially John, one must ask, “What is being expressed here? What is the evangelist saying? Is there perhaps more than one meaning intended?” John alone presents Mary Magdalene outside the tomb where Jesus had been buried. She is weeping, displaying grief at her sense of loss, and also revealing her devoted love for Jesus, whom she thinks is dead: “Woman, why are you weeping?” “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” In Mary’s darkened understanding, her “lord” has become a lifeless corpse. She is speaking to a man whom, John writes, “Mary supposed was the gardener.” This stranger speaks her name —“Mary”—and “she turns around” (from unbelief) and says, “Master!” Heart meets heart in a single word that penetrated the darkness of her grief-stricken mind. And so Mary Magdalene encounters Jesus in a new way—not only as a man, but as the Risen LORD, as the divine Presence to her here and now. But nothing is wasted in John’s Gospel—not a single crumb of bread, not a word. For in truth, the Christ whom Mary meets is the true Gardener of human souls, human hearts—if we co-operate with his divine work in us.

Do you like to garden? I surely do. At this time of year, it is a matter of preparing the soil for our planting or transplanting, and pulling up numerous unwanted volunteers (“weeds”) before they take over. Because I have always gardened organically, I do not add any poisons to the garden—better for those who eat the produce, and far less dangerous for animals who may nibble or steal a delectable tomato. In any case, our outside gardens are good images of the gardens of our souls. The garden you plant on the outside is an image of the garden within. The gardens of our souls, of our minds, need tending, too. They need nourishing, and that is why we read Scripture and other spiritual writings, meditate, and pray. It is evident that many Americans today follow the way of Western Europeans: we neglect the gardens of our souls, we do not nourish ourselves with spiritual reading or prayer, we do not meditate in silence, we do not pull up the weeds of unbelief, hatred, delusions. Many of us are too busy making money, or entertaining ourselves, to cultivate the gardens of our souls. Christ the Gardener requires our loving cooperation every step of the way. God works in us, but not without us. If we do not make the effort, we produce no good fruits. And if we poison our souls, our fruits are poisonous to other creatures. Hallelujah! Praise the LORD!