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Learning to Pray (Paperback) can be ordered at Amazon.com. Learning to Pray (Hardback) can be ordered at Amazon.com. Bread for the Journey International
receives a percentage of any purchase made
at Amazon.com. In northern California, there is fog in the morning. As I write this, looking out my window, I know that the mountains and the trees, the grasses and the sky remain hidden in the fog, but I cannot see them with my eyes. Instead, I feel their presence in my body, I know the shapes that lay behind the fog for having seen them, watched them emerge again and again. It is a primitive kind of faith, based on repetition and proof, but a kind of faith nevertheless, that the fog will, indeed, lift. Slowly, as the sun warms the earth, the fog begins to clear. And as it does, outlines appear, colors, textures, and, finally, the sky and sun are quietly, astonishingly revealed, and I can see them all. This is prayer. This is deep, faithful listening, waiting for what
is hidden to be revealed. Prayer is not words; prayer is what happens
when you listen and wait, beneath the words, for the outline of heaven
to emerge. Every day there comes a moment when I find myself in prayer. I pray because I must, because regardless of my good intentions I lose my bearings. I make mistakes. I am stopped by the way the world challenges and confounds my plans. To be sure, there are moments when my prayer is filled with gratefulness for the numberless blessings showered on my life. But, just as often, I pray because I need the comfort of some nourishing spirit that will teach me, show me the way. |
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When I pray, one of the prayers I turn to again and again is the Lord's Prayer. While it is arguably the most-prayed prayer in our culture, I have personally found it to be a sure and faithful guide into the heart of our deepest questions about prayer.
I pray it daily, alone in my room in front of my altar, and on long walks in the hills behind my home. I have prayed it in countless churches, in twelve-step meetings with alcoholics and drug addicts, and in the intimate company of friends and loved ones.
I have prayed it with Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and Native Americans, so universal is its appeal to something beneath the cadence of the all-too-familiar words. And I have used it as a tool at our summer Institute for Engaged Spirituality, an annual gathering in Santa Fe where teachers, physicians, counselors, social workers, parents, nurses, community activists and others seek to feel the changing texture of our inner spiritual landscape. We explore how the fertility of our inner life clearly shapes our capacity to do good and necessary work in the world, and we help one another liberate our particular gifts for the family of the earth. Prayer is an indispensable part of our deep listening together.
I offer this book, using the Lord's Prayer as a tool, for
those who are unsure about how to pray. Perhaps we feel awkward or uncomfortable,
not knowing the "right" way to pray. What should prayer feel like,
and what is it supposed to accomplish? Should we try and pray to get everything
we want, or should we pray instead to accept what we have been given? Or
does prayer offer something deeper, beyond measurable purpose or effect,
serving instead as a precious invitation to simply rest deeply in the gentle,
loving company of the divine?
In the gospel stories about the men and women who followed Jesus, we may
hear a poignant echo of our own dilemma. The disciples tried to live spiritual
lives, to become healers and teachers like Jesus. But whenever things went
wrong, they lost their confidence. When confronted with a hungry crowd,
they became anxious and worried about how they would feed everyone. When
their boat was being tossed by a storm, they trembled and became afraid.
When people bombarded them with requests for healing, they frantically despaired
how it would all get done.
In the midst of their own confusion, they saw in Jesus something they hoped to find in themselves. He remained strong and wise, even in the most trying moments. The sick and wounded hounded him, clamoring for his time, his healing touch, his words. Yet even as people crowded around him, Jesus drew upon some reservoir of seemingly endless kindness. He had infinite patience for almost anyone in need.
For years they followed him, watching him, listening to him, trying to be like him, to learn his ways, to do what he did. They devoted their lives trying to become as centered and wise as Jesus. But despite their most faithful efforts, they often found themselves discouraged and disappointed.
But Jesus knew something the disciples did not understand. He had an unfailing practice, a way of living on the earth while honoring the wisdom of the Spirit. Leaving behind the relentless clamor and service to others, he would regularly retreat to a quiet place, be still, name the deepest truths of his heart, and listen for the clear inner voice that would refresh and remind him what was beautiful, necessary, and true.
Jesus knew how to pray. Just as there is a time for every purpose under heaven, there is time to serve, and time to pray. Jesus respected this delicate rhythm. So in the morning, Jesus would leave everyone behind, go off to a solitary place, and anchor his life in deep, nourishing prayer.
Even in their disquietude, his disciples saw how he was changed when he returned from prayer. They felt something different in the way he touched, the way he spoke, the way he listened, and waited, and remained at peace. When they saw him with the poor, with the hungry, with the lame and the lepers, he was so calm, so kind, so unafraid. They wanted to feel what Jesus felt. They wanted to be that clear, that whole. They wanted to feel his peace and wisdom in their own hearts and minds. It was painful to lose their way, to be so quickly lost and frightened, to live without some taste of heaven on earth. Finally, they asked him,
Rabbi: Teach us to pray.
And so Jesus taught them these words:
Our Father,
Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
On Earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us, this day our Daily Bread
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
the power, and the glory,
forever and ever.
Amen.
At this point it is crucial to note that his followers did not say, Give
us a prayer. They clearly asked, Teach us to pray. So when Jesus offers
these words, we have to assume he is offering much more than a unique succession
of phrases to be mindlessly repeated in church, or hastily recited before
bed. The prayer itself is a guide, a teaching story, a finely crafted sequence
of instructions on how to pray.
What if Jesus offered them more than a simple prayer? What if the prayer is a guide, an instruction manual for learning to pray? If we listen carefully every word, every phrase reveals some potent teaching about prayer. The ever-present gift of the prayer lies deeper than the language of the prayer. The words are not the prayer, but rather precise doorways into a lifetime of practice.
In this simple prayer, within these few words, we can discover all we will ever need to learn about how to pray. Every line is an astonishing gift of wisdom, a subtle teaching hidden, as in a Chinese puzzle-box, gently and gradually uncovered and understood through a lifetime of prayerfulness.
My hope is that this book will help you learn to pray. I offer
it as a companion, something to hold in your hand and the heart. Allow each
word, each phrase to work on you, to take you more deeply inward. If you
are patient and awake, you may find that your eyes, ears and heart are gently
opened, and you may begin to feel what Jesus felt: The gradual, palpable
unfolding of heaven on earth.
From the prelude of Learning to Pray.
Learning to Pray (Paperback) can be ordered at Amazon.com.
Learning to Pray (Hardback) can be ordered at Amazon.com.
Bread for the Journey International
receives a percentage of any purchase made at
Amazon.com.
Copyright
© 1999 - 2008 by Wayne Muller. All rights reserved.
This page updated by Brandy Sacks. For more information, please
email bjourney@pacbell.net