donald spoto - In Silence

(1):

"faith then involves a willingness to wonder, to ask questions rather than simply to deny what the senses do not immediately validate..."

discusses the hiddenness and silence of god, and how we become aware and have a relationship only in that silence. calls prayer an expression of an individual's inner life, a profound dialogue

"The paths to God are as many as there are people."

"prayer is not so much something we do as something God does, something we experience, something unbidden and uninvited...a voice and a calling that want to be heeded..."

(2) prayer as dialogue 1:

the text gives biblical examples, which he says are about being attentive, waiting, being eager for communication. prayer then is not about what you say, or about ritual. it is primarily because you're in a dialogue, it's about attentive listening. "it is first of all a condition of openness, of receptivity, which is the prerequisite of communication" (27). true prayer is not about when i ask, but when i listen.

(3) prayer as dialogue 2:

he quotes jesus saying to be brief, because god knows what you need. and that prayer should be private, or at least we should be aware of "the dangers of public display" (30). when i read this, i am put in mind of Cynrano deBergerac, and all his lines about wearing his graces on the inside.

St. Jeanne de Chantal "patience itself is a powerful prayer...we must be satisfied to be powerless, idle and still before God - even dried up and barren when He permits it" (49).



obviously the idea that prayer could be (maybe should be) private speaks to me (ha). i'm rarely comfortable with ceremony and spotlights. anytime anyone has ever prayed for me over a meal i squirm inside. i immediately want to say, even in my ambivalence about a personal, listening god, 'no, look, ignore that. i don't need any attention. i'm fine. please, ignore him/her, i'm lucky, i need nothing.' the things i need, even when they are very large, like money or health, seem so small in a global context.

but i think it also resonated because i have sometimes thought of running as prayer. a few sundays when i still lived in detroit i ran in the morning instead of going to church, and i don't think i saw a big disconnect. i felt that attentiveness, to my own body, to the morning, to the world. it's not something i feel with swimming, which i am still very bad at. it's the just-hard-enough-ness of running that makes that feeling, where you keep moving and you think yes and yes and yes. and also thank you, for this day, for this breath, for the sweep of my tired muscles.

this is important to me, i guess, because it *is* private, but also because attentiveness is hard to come by for me. i'm in the process of being evaluated for adult ADD, and one of the ways this manifests for me is difficulty keeping my brain on one thing. even as a child, when i tried to pray, it was often very difficult to keep my mind from wandering. so moments where i feel focused and part of something are rare, and they are often inarticulate. and while this book doesn't say 'running can be prayer,' it does suggest that moments of attentiveness, in whatever activity, could be prayerful.

i was also struck and delighted by what st jeanne de chantal said about barrenness - so much so that i found and downloaded a book of her letters. that book ultimately moved me less than this one quote, although i saw in it how her faith was work. not just that her day to day occupation was connected to her faith, but you imagine her reminding herself to be patient, to write another letter, to dispense advice. her spirituality is not something that always comes effortlessly. like running, you can see that there are days she is connected and soaring and days when she drags herself through every step. and so i loved what she said about allowing yourself to be dried up and barren, that patience with yourself could be a kind of prayer. there are nights when P wants to pray over dinner and i am able to enter into that, to participate in some fashion, but there are also nights when i am impatient, i'm hungry, i feel nothing, and i know i'm just waiting for it to be over. i think often my response to that has been guilt, and then mild annoyance at him for making me feel this guilt, and then more annoyance at myself for being such a jerk.

the idea that patience can be prayer is breathtaking to me. i'm not sure how to make this epiphany clear. the idea that my silence, whether it's empty or frustrated or exhausted, can be prayer, can be *listening* is a little bit amazing to me.