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Community of Prayer
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4 May 2008 No matter how over-extended our lifestyles, we can choose *~*~* I am one of the rare people who has yet to watch a full showing of Oprah. Oh, I did see a newscast of her much-publicized interview with Michael Jackson—just long enough to see his moonwalk. I saw a second bit of Oprah when a friend sent me the podcast of Randy Pausch, the Carnegie Mellon professor dying of pancreatic cancer, reprising his last lecture at on her show. If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth googling to find it. Pausch’s last lecture isn’t intended for mass media consumption, even though that’s what quickly evolved in this internet age. It isn’t even really intended for the hundreds of students who gathered to hear him at Carnegie Mellon. It is intended primarily for his three young sons as a way of reaching out to them long after he is no longer reading them bedtime stories. The writer of our fourth gospel does much the same thing with that wandering sermon we call Jesus’ farewell discourse, set at the last Passover Jesus celebrates with his followers before his crucifixion. It’s his last lecture, a creative bridge to a new generation long after Jesus’ death. This gospel is written between 90 and 100 of the common era, at least three generations after the crucifixion, to Greek-speaking Jews who do not yet know the powerful presence of the risen Christ, but who know all too well the powerful heavy hand of Roman persecution. The community is fearful and needs comfort; it also needs to be reminded of the ministry to which it is called. And the most extraordinary part of this closing speech is that as Jesus finishes his instruction, he turns to God in prayer, not for himself, not for strength to face the trials ahead; he prays for his disciples, for the faith community who succeeds him. No matter who you are, no matter where you are on life’s journey, there’s always time for prayer. In one way or another, prayer is practiced in virtually every religious tradition, a recognition at some level that the One we call holy is present to us, and that we can be in touch with God’s holy presence through the practice of prayer. But for the over-scheduled lifestyle common to this area, the practice of prayer is something that many of us find difficult to factor into our days. At the same time, our over-scheduled lifestyles make it difficult for us to stay grounded, so that who we are and what we do flow naturally from our core being. Prayer is that grounding, that lodestar that tethers us to the ground of our being. Ironically, one of the gifts of Islam in this 21st century is their call to prayer and its practice five times a day. It is a reminder to the rest of us that no matter how over-extended our lifestyles, we can choose to structure our days in ways that make time for prayer. I’ve been keeping this set of Muslim prayer beads on the window ledge in our bedroom, next to the bed, ever since John’s January trip to Iraq and Jordan. There are 33 round beads in all, plus three separating beads. Each twelfth bead is a different shape, so that the pray-er can move subconsciously around the circle and know how many times Allah has been praised. The object is to praise Allah 100 times in the course of the prayer, so three times around the circle is 99, plus one more prayer, the hundredth, as the pray-er fingers the largest bead. Like the Roman Catholic rosary, the prayer beads help the individual stay focused on the act of prayer. Just seeing them is a visual reminder—the beads are on the window ledge, I see them, and am reminded to pray. Second, as a tactile reminder, keeping the hands busy is a wonderful way to free the mind from the distractions of what’s on the menu for supper, or how much lead time I need to make it through the morning madness to get to the office for a 9:00 meeting. Knitters have known the mind-calming effect of quietly active hands for a long time. But I can’t use prayer beads and drive. Instead, I turn off the radio, and simply lift up joys and concerns. And for the really big stuff, like racism, poverty, hunger, ecology, I ask God to show me if there is something I should be doing, and if there is, I try to be responsive to it.[1] Sometimes that something is opening myself to the voices of those whose experiences are different from mine. That’s how I ended up at the Samuel DeWitt Proctor conference on prophetic witness in the African American religious experience. One of the speakers was the first African American woman to be ordained in the United Presbyterian Church USA. Dr. Katie Cannon told of her determination to research the African-American woman’s situation in the United States…and the complete removal of scholarship funds to pursue her degree in such a “non-academic” field. She returned to her apartment, laid down on the floor and put on some music. Then she prayed for God to help her find a way out of no way. When she finished praying, a friend called to offer $15—truly a widow’s mite. But that mite told Dr. Cannon that God was hearing her prayers. Today, Dr. Cannon has earned two Master’s degrees, along with her PhD. Jesus facing crucifixion; disciples fearful of persecution; Katie Cannon facing the defunding of her studies; any one of us, facing the myriad demands on our time and talent. No matter who we are, no matter where we are in life’s journey, there is always room for prayer. When Jesus is with his disciples, lifting them up in prayer, he is not by himself. He’s not out on the golf course, or up on a mountaintop; he’s part of a community at prayer. That’s why some churches have prayer circles. Others have prayer partners who either gather at a certain time for prayer, or who set aside a given time to pray, regardless of where they are. Individually, communally, no matter who we are, no matter where we are there’s always room for prayer in life’s journey. It’s how we wait upon the Lord and open ourselves to God’s radiant, transforming presence. *~*~* [1] “Are we there yet? Finding my Path to Peace,” Helene Toney Cain, Frederick News-Post, 3 May 2008, page 8-B |