Centering Prayer · Prayer of Quiet

Jump:

• Turning to the East
• The Use of "Technique"
• The Prayer of The Cloud
• Posture and Relaxation
• Rule One
• The Inner Presence
• Coming Out of Contemplation
• Sleep
• A Valuable Asceticism
• Time
• Rule Two
• Rule Three
• "By Their Fruits..."
• An Added Note

One of the more significant changes for Western civilization, where Christianity largely resides, is the evolution from a conceptual era to an experiential one. Since Gutenberg's woodcuts first touched paper, the printed word and the ideas it disseminated more and more dominated Western culture. But in these last decades audiovisuals have led men to seek an ever-fuller experience of reality. Technology's success has awakened desires; its failure to satisfy awakens deeper desires. The spirit of man has come alive in a way that now transcends cultures. And the man of the West finds that the stirring within him is the same as that which stirs within his brothers and sisters in what has been considered the "primitive" culture of the natives of many lands and in the more ancient cultures of the East.

The Christian who is nurtured in this climate is no longer content to ruminate on truths of dogma to develop motivating thoughts and feelings in an effort toward union with God. He wants to experience God as present, loving, and caring. And the Lord seems to be very willing to respond to this aspiration, which ultimately springs from His providential care of those whom His Love has created. I think this is the significance of the widespread charismatic movement. Among those who open themselves to the Spirit of God, He seems to be granting, in what is commonly referred to as the "Baptism of the Spirit", that kind of experience of Himself, which the classical mystical writers have called a grace of union.

But not all are attracted to seek the experience of God in the enthusiastic and communicative climate that surrounds most charismatic groups. There are many who are drawn rather to seek this experience in the quiet of their own inner sanctuary where the Word dwells in His eternal stillness. There is ample evidence of this in the multitude of Christians who are flocking to the masters of the East to learn the methods of Zen and Yogic meditation, especially the transcendental meditation taught by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.

TURNING TO THE EAST

A couple of years ago, I had occasion to visit a Ramakrishna temple in Chicago. Here I found twenty-four disciples gathered around a relatively young swami. The man was not unusually impressive, but he certainly lived what he taught and evidently spoke out of a personal inner experience. His disciples were an impressive group, twenty-two to fifty-five years of age. They expected another twenty-four to join them that year and were inaugurating a subsidiary ashram in nearby Michigan. All twenty-four were from Christian backgrounds. When I asked them what had drawn them to the temple, they invariably answered that they could find no one in their own Church who was willing to lead them into the deeper ways of the spirit where they could truly experience God. Then they met the swami and he was willing to do that. They still worshipped Christ, but now unfortunately as only one of many incarnations of God. In their search they have somewhat lost their way because there was no Christian master (or, to be more faithful to our own traditional terminology, no Spiritual Mother or Father) ready to guide them, sharing with them from the fullness of his own lived experience.

Over the years in retreat work I have talked to many, many priests and religious. I have found that in most cases, though not all, in the seminary or the novitiate they have been taught methods of prayer and active meditation. In many cases they have also had a course in ascetical and mystical theology in which they have heard about the various stages of contemplative prayer. Unfortunately they have usually been left with the impression or have been actually taught that it is a very rare sort of thing, usually found only in enclosed monasteries. To seek it is presumptuous. One must plug away faithfully at active meditation and perhaps someday, in the far distant future, after long years of fidelity, God might give one this precious but rare gift of contemplative prayer. In no instance have I yet found anyone who had been taught in the seminary or the novitiate a simple method for entering into passive meditation or contemplative prayer.

This is sad. Especially in face of the fact that Saint Teresa of Avila had taught that those who were faithful to prayer could expect in a relatively short time - six months or a year - to be led into a prayer of quiet. Dom Marmion believed that by the end of his novitiate a religious was usually ready for contemplative prayer. One of the signs that Saint John of the Cross pointed to as an indication that one is ready for contemplative prayer is that active meditation no longer works - and experience very many priests and religious do have. Faced with this experience, and with no one showing them how to move on to contemplative prayer, many give up regular prayer. A faithful few plug on, sometimes for years, in making painful meditations that are anything but refreshing. Given this state of affairs it is not surprising that Christians seeking help to enter into the quiet, inner experience of God find little among their priests and religious.

We know that if a person desiring to seek the experience of God in deep meditation does go on to one of the many swamis found in the West today, he or she will be quickly taught a simple method to pursue this goal. "Sit this way. Hold your hands this way. Breathe thus. Say this word in this manner. Do this twice a day for so many minutes." And if the recipient does this, he or she usually has very good experiences. We can see this, up to a point, as a good thing. For often, whether the person knows His name or not, he or she is in fact seeking God. And in carrying through this exercise, devoting mind and heart to this pursuit, he is actually engaging in a very pure form of prayer. The sad part of it is that his pursuit and his experience, probably of God's very real presence in him in His creative love, is not informed by faith. Sadder still is the fact that, in not a few cases, grateful recipients, so helped by the swami's meditation technique, begin to accept from him, also, his philosophy of life, abandoning their Christian heritage. Some of the greater swamis, such as Swami Satchidananda and Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, certainly advise against this, but such advice can fall on ears deafened by an almost cultic veneration for a truly selfless master.

These good masters from the East are truly a challenge, whether they intend to be or not, and in more ways than one. For one thing they certainly remind us that the effective teacher, at least in the area of life-giving teaching, must be one who lives what he teaches. To try to teach the Christian Gospel with its strong bias for the poor and its way of daily abnegation - "If you would be my disciple, take up your cross daily [not monthly or weekly, my novice master would say with emphasis, but daily] and come follow me" - while busily pursuing the same pleasures and immediate goals pursued by the worldly materialist is to condemn oneself to a fruitless ministry. We must teach more by what we do, what we live, than by what we say, if we want our hearers to take us seriously.

The swamis' response to seekers makes us ask ourselves, Are there not in our own Christian tradition some simple methods, some meditation "techniques", which we can use to enter into quiet, contemplative union with God? Before responding, I would like to say we Christians should not hesitate to make use of the good techniques that our wise friends from the East are offering, if we find them, in fact, helpful. As Saint Paul said: "All things are yours, and you are Christ's, and Christ is God's." We should not hesitate to take the fruit of the age-old wisdom of the East and "capture" it for Christ. Indeed, those of us who are in ministry should make the necessary effort to acquaint ourselves with as many of these Eastern techniques as possible. Not that we will necessarily find them useful in our own prayer seeking, though this might well be the case, but that we might be prepared to enter into intelligent dialogue with Eastern spiritual masters and, more important, that we might be prepared to help our fellow Christians, who do learn these techniques and find them helpful, to integrate them into their Christian faith experience. I think it is a fact that many Christians who take their prayer life seriously have been greatly helped by Yoga, Zen, TM, and similar practices, especially where they have been initiated by reliable teachers and have a solidly developed Christian faith to give inner form and meaning to the resulting experiences.

But to return to our question: do we have, in our Christian tradition, simple methods or techniques for entering into contemplative prayer? Yes, we certainly do. Some might draw back at this statement. The idea of using a "technique" to communicate with God, Whom we have the privilege of knowing personally, seems repulsive. And to expect to attain to contemplation by a "technique" smacks of Pelagianism. So let me explain.

THE USE OF "TECHNIQUE"

First of all, "techniques", methods, are certainly not foreign to the prayer experience of the average Catholic. The rosary is a "technique" - and certainly not one to be readily discounted. It has led many, many Christians to deep contemplative union with God. The Stations of the Cross are another "technique". So are the lgnatian Exercises, which are directly ordered to contemplation. Well enough known in the West today, at least by name and reputation, is the ancient Eastern Christian technique of the Jesus Prayer. We have, in fact, many Christian techniques.

The use of a technique or method in prayer to help us come into contact with God present to us, in us, and to bring our whole selves into quietness to enjoy that presence and be refreshed by it, is certainly not, in itself, Pelagian. Mystical theologians have not hesitated to speak of an "acquired contemplation" - in distinction to "infused contemplation" - a contemplative state or experience which the contemplator has taken some part in bringing into being. All prayer is a response to God and begins with Him. To deny this would be Pelagian. God's grace is not operative only in infused contemplation. When the little child lisps his "Now I lay me down to sleep…" if there is any movement of faith and love there, any true prayer, grace is present and operative. Every prayer is a response to a movement of grace, whether we are explicitly aware of it or not, whether we consciously experience the movement, the call, the attraction, or not. God present in us, present all around us, is calling us to respond to His presence, His love, His caring. We are missing reality if we think otherwise.

When we use a technique, a method, to pray, we are doing so because God's grace, to which we are freely responding, is efficaciously inviting us to do this. That we have been taught the technique and have responded to the teaching is all His grace at work, inviting us, leading us, guiding us to have a deeper experience of our union with Him. That is why it takes a certain courage - or foolhardiness - to learn such a technique. For it is, indeed, an invitation from the Lord to enter and abide within. Not to respond to such a loving invitation from the infinite God of love is sheer tragedy. Yet, to respond to such an invitation is to open oneself to a transformation of conscience and consciousness, with all that that can lead to. One's life will never be the same again.

THE PRAYER OF THE CLOUD

Yes, we do have in our Christian tradition simple methods, "techniques", for entering into contemplative prayer, a prayer of quiet. And without more ado I would like to share one such method with you. The one I have chosen is drawn from a little book called The Cloud of Unknowing. This is indeed a popular book in our time. At present it is available in four different paperback editions. (The one edited by William Johnston and published by Doubleday Image Books is the best.) The author is an unknown English Catholic writer of the fourteenth century. He could hardly have put his name to the work, for all that he teaches belongs to the common heritage of the Christian community.

At the time of our author's writing there was a vibrant spirituality alive and widespread in the Christian West. The swell had begun with the great Gregorian reform in the eleventh century and the ensuing monastic revival. The great Cistercian abbeys of the twelfth century often housed only eighty or ninety or a hundred monks, but had two, three, four hundred, or more, lay brothers who laboured in the granges, opening up new land or developing sheep runs, or who were active in the markets and agricultural trading centres. These men were not unlike the figure of the staretz made familiar to us by the novels of Dostoevski. While they shared their agricultural concerns with the hired help, the neighbouring peasants and serfs, or sold their wool in the markets, they did not fail to share at the same time something of their spiritual awareness and their simple ways of prayer. These holy men were followed by the enthusiastic sons of Saint Francis and the other mendicants. All, even the poorest, the most illiterate, the villainous, were invited to intimacy with the Lord. The fourteenth century was a high tide for the Christian spirit in the West.

Unfortunately it would soon enough ebb. With the Reformation, the monastic centres of spiritual life would be swept away by the new currents that flowed through much of Europe. And on the rest of the Continent the prosecution of Quietism and Illuminism by an overly zealous and defensive Inquisition would send contemplation to hide fearfully in the corners of a few convents and monasteries. A great movement of the Christian spirit flowed away with the undercurrent, only to surface and return under the impulsion of the mighty winds of a second Pentecost. These winds blow across the face of the whole earth. They certainly are not contained by the Church. But the Church, the Christian community, cannot afford to be slow to respond to them. True renewal must begin with each Christian responding to the call of the Spirit within, to the call to the centre where God dwells, waiting to refresh, revitalize, renew.

This simple method of entering into contemplative prayer has been aptly called "centering prayer". The name is inspired by Thomas Merton. In his writings he stressed that the only way to come into contact with the living God is to go to one's centre and from there pass into God. This is the way the author of The Cloud would lead us, although his imagery is somewhat different.

The simple method he teaches really belongs to the common heritage of man. I remember on one occasion describing it to a teacher of transcendental meditation. He replied, "Why, that's TM." I could not agree with him. There are very significant differences, but perhaps it takes faith really to perceive them. I can also remember, when I was in Greece a couple of years ago, finding a Greek translation of The Cloud of Unknowing. The late archbishop of Corinth had written the introduction. In it he stated that this was the work of an unknown fourteenth-century English Orthodox writer. He was certain it belonged to his Christian tradition.

If one reads The Cloud of Unknowing on one's own, as perhaps many of my readers have, one is not apt effectively to draw from the text the simple technique the author offers. This is not to be wondered at. One will have the same experience reading books on the Jesus Prayer. As the Spiritual Fathers on Mount Athos pointed out to me, no Spiritual Father would seek to teach this method of prayer by a book. It is meant to be handed on personally - tradition. The writings are but to support the learner in his experience and help him place the practice in the full context of his life. This, too, I believe is the case with The Cloud of Unknowing. Simply reading it will not usually teach the method. But one practising the method will certainly draw encouragement and understanding from reading the text. This is not to deny the inherent difficulty of reading a writing that comes out of the living Christian culture of six centuries ago. If we were to try to take all the strong pious statements of the author as prosaic twentieth-century factual writing, no Christian with one whit of humility would deem himself worthy of approaching this prayer. The author's poetic imagery might also put us off. Yet the rich, perennially valid substance is there. And anyone living in the tradition and sharing the experience quickly perceives this.

At this point I find in myself certain hesitancies, realizing, on the one hand, the need for more simple, concrete instruction, and on the other, questioning the wisdom of trying to hand this on through the written word, acting in a sense contrary to the traditional way of the Fathers. Yet the desire today is so widespread, the teachers so few, that it seems prudent to risk the endeavour, relying on Holy Spirit, the true and only Master, immediately present to the reader, to translate the printed word into something living that can engender true life.

And so now let me try to spell out the "technique" of The Cloud of Unknowing a little more concretely, adding some practical advice and explanation. To do this I would like to sum up the method in three rules. Every time I say that, I imagine I hear our humble author turning over gently in his grave. To give rules is the last thing he probable would ever have thought of doing. But we practical twentieth-century folk will probably find putting the method into rules or guidelines will facilitate our use of it and our ability to pass it on to others.

POSTURE AND RELAXATION

But first let me say a word about posture. Some wonderful ways of sitting have come to us from the East. They are ideal for meditation. But unless we are long practised, and in most cases, have gotten an early start, our muscles and bones do not too readily adapt themselves to these postures. I think for most of us the best posture for prayer is to be comfortably settled in a good chair - one that gives firm support to the back, but at the same time is not too hard or stiff. As the author of The Cloud says, "simply sit relaxed and quiet…" (c. 44).

We do not want to get too comfortably settled or the body will receive the signal that it is time for sleep. The back is most comfortable when it is straight and well supported. The head should be settled comfortably on its own, not leaning back on anything. If we should perceive it has fallen forward during the prayer (not an uncommon experience) it is good to bring it back up. For if it leans far forward it can inhibit breathing and put a strain on neck and back muscles.

Most important, the body should be relaxed. When our Lord said, "Come to me all you who labour and are heavily burdened, and I will refresh you," He meant the whole person, body, soul and spirit - not just the spirit. But the body is not apt to be refreshed if we begin the prayer physically tense. Sitting rigidly for thirty minutes or shifting about, distractedly seeking comfort, will probably result in only more tenseness. It is similar to sleep. If we go to sleep with the body tensed, we will wake up not rested but only more tense and tired. It is important then as we settle in our chairs for prayer that we take what time we need to relax. Perhaps some will want to employ some exercises. This is good if they will help us to be more relaxed as we pray.

Settling down in our chair and letting go, letting the chair fully support the body, is sacramental of what is to take place in the prayer. In centering prayer we settle in God, let ourselves go, let Him fully support us, rest us, refresh us.

Posture and relaxation are important. It is good, too, if we close our eyes during this prayer. It is true, some techniques like Zen call for keeping the eyes open. But these are usually effortful techniques. This method, however, is effortless; it is a letting go. "It is simply a spontaneous desire springing suddenly toward God (The Cloud, c. 4). And the more we can gently eliminate outside disturbances the better.

That is why it is good, if possible, to make this prayer in a quiet place, a place apart, though this is not essential. More important is that it be a situation in which we will not be disturbed in the course of the meditation. I have meditated this way in airports - certainly not quiet places, but no one will ordinarily disturb you as you sit there among the many waiting passengers. Quiet, though, will usually be found helpful. Psychologically, also, it is experienced as helpful if one has a sort of special place for meditation - a place apart, even though the "apart" may be only a corner of a room where there is a presence sacramentalized in Bible, icon, or sacred image, and the going apart involves swinging around in our chair from desk to shrine. The physical setup and the bodily movement reinforce the sense of passing now from the frenetic activities of the day to a deeper state of prayerful rest and divine refreshment.

THREE RULES

But now let us get on with the "rules" for entering into centering prayer - the prayer of quiet contemplation.

Rule One:

At the beginning of the prayer we take a moment or two to quiet down and then move in faith to God dwelling in our depths; and at the end of the prayer we take several minutes to come out, mentally praying the Our Father.

So, once we are settled down in our chair and relaxed, we enter into a short period of silence. Sixty seconds can initially seem like a long time when we are doing nothing and are used to being constantly on the go. Better to take a little more time rather than less. Then we move in faith to God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, dwelling in creative love in the depths of our being. This is the whole essence of the prayer. "Centre all your attention and desire on him and let this be the sole concern of your mind and heart" (The Cloud, c. 3). Faith moving toward its Object in hope and love - this is the whole of the theological, the Christian life. All the rest of the method is simply a means to enable us to abide quietly in this centre and to allow our whole being to share in this refreshing contact with its Source.

Faith is fundamental for this prayer, as for any prayer. We will have no desire to enter into union and communion, to pray, if we do not have at least some glimmer in faith of the All-Lovable, the All-Desirable. But it is essentially a "wonderful work of love"; a total response to Him Who is known by living faith.

THE INNER PRESENCE

When God makes things, He does not just put them together and toss them out there, to let them fly along in His creation. "One is good - God." And One is true, and beautiful, and all being - our God. And everything else is only insofar as it here and now actively participates in Him and shares His being. At every moment God is intimately present to each and every particle of His creation, sharing with it, in creative love, His very own being. And so, if we really see this paper, we do not just see the paper, but we see God bringing it into being and sustaining it in being. We perceive the Divine presence.

If this is true of all the other elements; how much more true is it for the greatest of God's creation - the human person, made to His own very image and likeness. When we go to our depths we find not only the image of God, but God Himself, bringing us forth in His creative love. We go to our centre and pass from there into the present God.

Yet there is still something even more wonderful here for the Christian. We have been baptized into Christ. We are in some very real, though mysterious way, Christ, the Son of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me." As we got to the depths we realize in faith our identity with Christ the Son. And even now, with Him and in Him, we come forth from the Father in the eternal generation, and return to the Father in that perfect Love which is Holy Spirit. What prayer! This is really stupendous, beyond adequate conception. Yet our faith tells us it is so. It is part of that whole reality that revelation has opened up to us. And it is for us to take possession of it. We have been made sharers in the Divine nature by Baptism. We have been given the Gift of the Holy Spirit. We have but to enter into what is ours, what we truly are.

And that is what we do in this prayer. In a movement of faith that is hope and love, we go to the centre and turn ourselves over to God in a simple being there, in a presence that is perfect and complete adoration, response, love, and "Amen" to that movement that we are in the Son to the Father.

COMING OUT OF CONTEMPLATION

In this prayer we go very deep into ourselves. Some speak of a fourth state of consciousness, a state beyond waking, sleeping, or dreaming states. Tests have shown that meditators do achieve a state of rest which is deeper than that attained in sleep. Have you ever had the experience of suddenly being rudely awakened out of very deep sleep? It is rather jarring, to say the least. We do not want to come out of contemplative prayer in a jarring way. Rather we want to bring its deep peace into the whole of our life. That is why we prescribe taking several minutes coming out, moving from the level of deep, self-forgetful contemplation to silent awareness and then a conscious interior prayer before moving out into full activity. When the time we have determined to pray is up, we stop using the prayer word, savour the silence, the Presence, for a bit, and then begin interiorly to pray the Our Father.

I suggest saying the Our Father. It is a perfect prayer, taught us by the Lord Himself. We gently let the successive phrases come to mind. We savour them, enter into them. What matter if in fact it takes a good while? It is a beginning of letting our contemplative prayer flow out into the rest of our prayer life.

The best time for meditating seems to be in the early morning, after we freshen up, and in the early evening before supper. But this is something each one has to work out for himself. Right after eating seems a poor time. One's centre is someplace else! Nor is it good to take a stimulant, like coffee, just before "centering". That is rather like trying to go in two directions at once.

SLEEP

It might be good to say a few words here about sleep and meditation, for it is to avoid sleep that we are tempted to take coffee or the like before praying. If we have not prayed in this deep way before, we are apt to wonder if we have not fallen asleep. Saint Teresa of Avila in her Interior Castle tells us that "in the prayer of quiet…until the soul has gained much experience, it doubts what really happened to it. 'Was it nothing but fancy, or was it asleep? Did it come from God…' The mind feels a thousand misgivings" (Bk. 5, c. 1, no. 5). We pass beyond self-awareness. The prayer is deeply restful. At the end all we can recall is a certain period of blankness. The nearest experience like this we have previously known is that of sleep. Yet somehow we are usually quite aware that we have not been sleeping.

However, it certainly is possible to fall asleep meditating. The author of The Cloud has some consoling words for us. He tells us not to worry if we do fall asleep, even to thank God. Our Father loves us as much when we are asleep as when we are awake. If we do doze in the midst of this work of love, we will probably awaken rather quickly. It is good then to return simply to our prayer. It will usually be a very good prayer, for we are now relaxed and rested.

However, if we are regularly falling asleep during our prayer, we should perhaps ask ourselves some questions. Maybe the Lord is trying to say something to us. Maybe we are simply not getting enough sleep. This is a common failure among dedicated people. And there is a subtle bit of pride usually lurking in it. We are trying to do more than we should. "If the Lord does not build the house, in vain the masons toil…in vain you get up earlier and put off going to bed, sweating to make a living, since He provides for His beloved as they sleep." We belong to the Lord, and so should do what He wants us to do - no more and no less.

Our falling asleep may simply be due to the fact that we are getting too comfortable. The body is getting the signal to sleep. We need to try, perhaps, a more upright, somewhat less comfortable chair.
Or again, this falling asleep may be telling us we really do not want to enter into deep union and communion with God. Perhaps we are afraid. Perhaps we are just not that interested - we do not yet know Him enough. The remedy is faith building - getting to know Him in all His lovableness and desirability, to love Him enough to be willing to risk the demands His intimate love will put upon us.

A VALUABLE ASCETICISM

We strongly recommend two periods of contemplative prayer in the course of a day. It introduces into our day a good rhythm: a period of deep rest and refreshment in the Lord flowing out into eight or ten hours of activity, and then another period of renewal to carry us through what is for most today a long evening of activity. This is certainly much better than trying to base sixteen hours of activity on the morning prayer.

Twenty minutes seems to be a good period to start with. Less than this hardly gives one a chance to get fully into the prayer and be wholly refreshed. Some will feel themselves drawn to extend the period to twenty-five or thirty minutes or perhaps thirty-five. On a day of retreat or when we are sick in bed, and our activity is curtailed, we can easily add more periods of contemplative prayer. This might be better than prolonging individual periods. Those who are generally living a contemplative life may find somewhat longer periods helpful.

For most, the real asceticism of this form of prayer comes in scheduling into our daily life two periods for it. Once we are going full steam, it is difficult to stop, drop everything, go apart and simply be to the Lord. And yet there is a tremendous value here.

All of us theoretically subscribe to the words quoted above, "If the Lord does not build the house, in vain the masons toil." But in practice most of us work as though God could not possibly get things done if we did not do them for Him. The fact is there is nothing that we are doing that God could not raise up a stone in the field to do for Him. The realization of this puts us in our true place. Though, lest we do get too knocked down by such a realization of our insignificance, let me hasten to add that there is one thing that we alone can do for God. And that is the one thing for which He created us, and which gives us our infinite importance and worth, and that one thing is to give Him our personal love. No one else can give God our personal love. It is uniquely for this that He created us. This is our great significance. The very God of Heaven and earth wants, and needs because He wants, our personal love.

I have run into a situation in marriage counselling a number of times. The couple is unhappy. The wife is dissatisfied and the husband cannot see why. He goes into a long recital of all he is doing for her. He is holding down two or three jobs, building a new house, buying her everything. But to all this the wife quietly replies: if only he would stop for a few minutes and give me himself! I sometimes think that God, as He sees us rushing about in all our doing of good, says to Himself: if only they would stop for a few minutes and give me themselves!

Yes, we theoretically subscribe to the fact that God is the principal agent. But we push frenetically on. Nothing can help us so much as to get a real grasp on the fact of God's allness in our accomplishments - and the peace and freedom that come from such practical realization - as actually stopping regularly and letting God take care of things. He really can. We can trust Him to manage His world for twenty minutes without us while we meditate - and not mess it up too much!

And if, while we pray, someone has to wait at our door for ten or fifteen minutes, he or she will probably learn a lot about prayer while waiting - certainly more than if inside listening to us talk about prayer. Actions speak louder than words. Those around us will not fail to notice, even though we might prefer they would not, when we begin to give prayer prime time in our busy lives.

TIME

It is important to be faithful to the time we set for our prayer. When we determine to contemplate for twenty minutes we should faithfully stay with it for the full twenty minutes and not cut corners when work is pressing or the thoughts and tensions are many. It is at such times we most need this refreshing time with the Lord. And it may take all of the twenty minutes to reestablish our needed inner peace.

A question frequently asked is, How is one to tell when time is up? If we contemplate regularly for the same amount of time, we will soon find that we come out automatically at the determined time. At first, however, that will not be the case. What we do is when the question comes to mind, Is it time? we just take a quick look at our watch. If it is time, we close our eyes and begin slowly to come out of the prayer. If it is not yet time, we gently resume our prayer word and go on with the meditation.

Rule Two:

After resting for a bit in the centre in faithful love, we take up a single, simple word that expresses this response and begin to let it repeat itself within.

As the author of The Cloud puts it: "If you want to gather all your desire into one simple word that the mind can easily retain, choose a short word rather than a long one. A one-syllable word such as 'God' or 'love' is best. But choose one that is meaningful to you. Then fix it in your mind so that it will remain there, come what may…Be careful in this work and never strain your mind or imagination, for truly you will not succeed this way. Leave these faculties at peace" (c. 7, 4).

What we are concerned with here is a simple, effortless prolongation or abiding in the act of faith - love - presence. This is so simple, so effortless, so restful, that it is a bit subtle and so needs some explanation. A spiritual act is an instantaneous act, an act without time. "The will needs only this brief fraction of a moment to move toward the object of its desire" (The Cloud, c. 4). As soon as we move in love to God present in the depths, we are there. There a perfect prayer of adoration, love, and presence is. And we simply want to remain there and be what we are: Christ responding to the Father in the perfect Love, the Holy Spirit.

To facilitate our abiding quietly there, and to bring our whole being as much as possible to rest in this abiding, after a brief experience of silent presence we take up a single simple word that expresses for us our faith-love movement. We have seen the author of The Cloud suggests such words as "God" or 'love". A vocative word seems usually to be best. We begin very simply to let this word repeat itself within us. We let it take its own pace, louder or softer, faster or slower; it may even fuzz out into silence. "For it is best when this word is wholly interior without a definite thought or actual sound" (The Cloud, c. 40).

We might think of it as if the Lord Himself, present in our depths, were quietly repeating His own name, evoking His presence and very gently summoning us to an attentive response. We are quite passive. We let it happen. "Let this little word represent to you God in all His fullness and nothing less than the fullness of God. Let nothing except God hold sway in your mind and heart" (The Cloud, c. 40).

The subtle thing here is the effortlessness. We are so used to being very effortful. We are a people out to succeed, to accomplish, to do. It is hard for us to let go and let God do. And, after all, if we do, if we expend great effort, then when it is done we can pat ourselves on the back and salute ourselves for our great accomplishment. This prayer leaves no room for pride. We have but to let go and let it be done unto us according to His revealed Word. The temptation for us is to change the quiet mental repetition of the prayer word, which simply prolongs a state of being present, into an effortful repetition of an ejaculation and to use it energetically to knock out any thoughts or "distractions" that come along. This brings us to our third rule.

Rule Three:

Whenever in the course of the prayer we become aware of anything else, we simply, gently return to the prayer word.

I want to emphasize that word aware. Unfortunately we are not able to turn off our minds and imaginations by the flick of a switch. Thoughts and images keep coming in a steady steam. "No sooner has a man turned toward God in love when through human frailty he finds himself distracted by the remembrance of some created thing or some daily care. But no matter. No harm done; for such a person quickly returns to deep recollection" (The Cloud, c. 4). In this prayer we go below the thoughts and images offered by the mind and imagination. But at times they will grab at our attention and try to draw it away from the restful Presence. This is because these thoughts or images refer to something that has a hold on us, something we fear, or desire, or are in some other way intensely involved with. When we become aware of these thoughts, if we continue to dwell on them, we leave our prayer and become involved again in the tensions. But if, at the moment of awareness, we simply, gently return to our prayer word (thus implicitly renewing our act of presence in faith-full love), the thought or image with its attendant tension will be released and flow out of our lives. And we will come into a greater freedom and peace that will remain after our prayer is over.

Should some thought go on annoying you, demanding to know what you are doing, answer with this one word alone. If your mind begins to intellectualize over the meaning and connotation of this little word, remind yourself that is value lies in its simplicity. Do this and I assure you these thoughts will vanish. (The Cloud of Unknowing, c. 7)

We can see how pure this prayer is. In active forms of prayer we use thoughts and images as sacraments and means for reaching out to God. In this prayer we go beyond them, we leave them behind, as we go to God Himself abiding in our depths. It is a very pure act of faith. Perhaps in this prayer we will for the first time really act in pure faith. So often our faith is leaning on the concepts and images of faith. Here we go beyond them to the Object Himself of faith, leaving all the concepts and images behind.

We can see, too, how Christian this prayer is. For we very truly die to ourselves, our more superficial selves, the level of our thoughts, images, and feelings, in order to live to Christ, to enter into our Christ-being in the depths. We "die" to all our thoughts, and imaginings, no matter how beautiful they may be or how useful they might seem. We leave them all behind, for we want immediate contact with God Himself, and not some thought, image, or vision of Him - only the faith experience of Himself. "You are to concern yourself with no creature whether material or spiritual nor with their situation or doings whether good or ill. To put it briefly, during this work you must abandon them all…" (The Cloud, c. 5).

"BY THEIR FRUITS…"

There is another consequence of this transcending of thought and image. This prayer cannot be judged in itself. As it goes beyond thought, beyond image, there is nothing left by which to judge it. In active meditation, at the end we can make some judgments. I had some good thoughts, I felt some good affections, I had lots of distractions, etc. But all that is irrelevant to this prayer. If we have lots of thoughts - good, lots of tension is being released. If we have few thoughts - good, there was no need for them. The same for feelings, images, etc. All these are purely accidental; they do not touch the essence of the prayer, which goes on in all its purity, whether these be present or not. There is nothing left by which to judge the prayer in itself. If we simply follow the three rules, the prayer is always good, no matter what we think or feel.

There is, however, one way in which the goodness of this prayer is confirmed for us. Our Lord has said, "You can judge a tree by its fruits." If we are faithful to this form of prayer, making it a regular part of our day, we very quickly come to discern - and often others discern it in us even more quickly - the maturing in our lives of the fruits of the Spirit - love, joy, peace, patience, benignity, kindness, gentleness - all the fruits of the Spirit. I have experienced this in my own life and I have seen this again and again in the lives of others, sometimes in a most remarkable way. What happens, the way the Spirit seems to bring this about, is that in this prayer we experience not only our oneness with God in Christ but also our oneness with all the rest of the Body of Christ, and indeed with the whole of creation, in God's creative live and sharing of being. Thus we begin, connaturally as it was, to experience the presence of God in all things, the presence of Christ in each person we meet. Moreover, we sense an oneness with them. From this flows a true compassion - a "feeling with". This contemplative prayer, far from removing us from others, makes us more and more conscious of our oneness with them. Love, kindness, gentleness, patience grow. Joy and peace, too, in the pervasive presence of God's caring love in all. Contemplative prayer helps us take possession of our real transcendent relationship with God in Christ, as well as our real relationship with each and every person in Christ.

I have written enough, and more than enough, on three simple rules, and perhaps you are eager now to take them up and begin to meditate. So let me simply recapitulate them here:

Rule One: At the beginning of the prayer we take a minute or two to quiet down and then move in faith to God dwelling in our depths; and the end of the prayer we take several minutes to come out, mentally praying the Our Father (or some other prayer).

Rule Two: After resting for a bit in the centre in faith-full love, we take up a single, simple word that expresses this response and begin to let it repeat itself within.

Rule Three: Whenever in the course of the prayer we become aware of anything else, we simply return to the prayer word.

May these simple rules prove to be for you, and all those with whom you share them, a gentle, loving invitation from the Lord to a fuller, richer, deeper life in Him, a life marked by the fruits of the Holy Spirit.

AN ADDED NOTE

When a number are praying together - and some find this very supportive - it is helpful if one takes the lead. After everyone is settled, the leader opens the prayer, articulating the act of faith. At the end he or she recites the Lord's Prayer aloud. The opening prayer might go something like this:

Lord, we worship You as our very God. We believe You are truly in our depths. We come to You in adoration and love. Draw us, bring us into Yourself. Refresh us and renew us. We come to You, Lord. We give ourselves wholly to You. We come, O Lord, we come.

I think it is important - certainly very helpful - when we are teaching this simple method of prayer to others that, after we have explained the three rules, we actually pray with them. If it is at all possible, it would be good to meet with them several times in the course of the following week to pray again with them. Let there be plenty of time for questions and sharing about the experience. As we have pointed out above, and will develop in a later chapter, such sharing is faith building and confirming. And faith is the absolutely essential starting point for all prayer and all Christian life.

« Back