Finding a Time for Prayer

In the reading today from The Rule of St. Benedict, the commentary by Sister Joan Chittister following today’s portion includes the comment below. She is referring to the practice of the monks to memorize psalms so that when they worked in the fields they could repeat them as prayers. Most of these monks were illiterate, and there were few texts available so they learned the psalms through hearing and memorizing.

What psalm prayers can we say without reading? What prayers ring in our hearts? What do we think about when we're not thinking about anything special? Do we ever simply stop the work we are doing during the day, look straight ahead and pray? What memorized material does run through our minds and why do we memorize what we do but not our prayers?

I must confess that these are not questions I would want to be asked. My responses are not worth hearing! We are drawn to explore how we pray and when, however, as we consider that all prayers are not necessarily structured by an address to God and a closing in the name of Jesus, followed by the traditional Amen. During my childhood I always closed my day with “Now I lay me down to sleep . . .” never missing a night that way. As I grew older, my bedtime prayer took on a more informal tone, filled with my dreams and desires, my pleas and my demands. That pattern prevailed in more mature form during college years and early adulthood. Added to the evening prayer, however, were the spontaneous petitions that might occur at any time. But it was always a matter of seeking some favor – with only an occasional prayer of gratitude, and a few intercessory prayers. These were the personal prayers, because in worship services I prayed along with the congregation following various formats. Gradually my nighttime prayers began to become morning prayers when it was clear that I often fell asleep before reaching the Amen.

This kind of prayer time, with added periods of meditation and silence, were the norm for many years. Lately, however, I find my prayers come at odd moments and in odd forms, and sometimes I feel guilty about straying from a structured routine of prayer times. As a Benedictine Oblate, I am expected to follow a regular prayer routine, which adheres to certain times of the day when we are to stop whatever we’re doing and pray the scriptures or other prayers. But then yesterday’s reading from Sister Joan’s Monastic Way, a daily commentary, notes this:

Prayer is much more than “prayers.” It is awareness, attention and presence. “Certain thoughts are prayers,” Victor Hugo wrote. “There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.”

For now, as long as I continue to remain in prayerful contact with the Creator God, even in different ways from my former practices, I feel assured that my thoughts can be prayers, my actions can be prayerful, and even my poems can be prayers at times – when I recognize that in these moments my “soul is on its knees.” In moments of prayer then, we can be comforted to realize that however our prayers come to God, we are heard. What must accompany those prayerful times is how we then listen to God. What do we hear?