BAD NIGHTS. We said that by the very act of breathing we are already praying in a real sense, and that we can make our breathing more deeply prayerful by using the word YAH-WEH as we breathe out and in. As the years pass, it can be a comfort to know that we need not worry so much about the quality of our prayer. We can simply pray in harmony with our bodies.
I seldom become conscious of my breathing during the day, but during sleepless nights I do. Then, at least occasionally, I silently link my breathing with the holy sound of YAH-WEH, and something is salvaged from a ‘bad’ night. Several of my brethren have suffered from emphysema: they know how much effort breathing takes. Surely this discomfort is already a prayer of sorts? Surely it is precious to the God who gave them breath and will receive it lovingly back when they die?
My Heart a Temple
It is encouraging to know that contemplatives say prayer has already begun in us long before we become aware of it. The place where God dwells in me is also the place of prayer. I am a temple of the Holy Spirit (Romans 8:11). The three divine Persons dwell there, and they relate lovingly with each other and with me, which is what prayer is all about. While I occasionally give myself to prayer, the Holy Spirit never ceases to pray within me ‘and intercedes [for me] with sighs too deep for words’ (Romans 8:26). That means that the Spirit is addressing the Father and the Son, and does so in my home place and on my behalf. That prayer is my heart’s treasure, even if I know little about it. Right from the beginning of my life, prayer—this conversation of the Three on my behalf—has already begun. It is present before I do anything: it lies deeper than any of my techniques or my efforts to ‘pray well’. Think of a newborn child, whose parents talk about it lovingly as soon as it arrives. Even before my baptism this prayer has been going on, although the sacraments highlight the intimacy of God in our hearts. Prayer is there—just as breathing is there independently of my thinking about it. Prayer, the monks say, just goes on and on.
‘To live in the state of grace’ means that so long as I want to be a friend of God, I live in a state of prayer at a deep level. I will grow in my relationship with God by learning about prayer, but I don’t learn about it as if it were an optional foreign language which I may never bother to master. It’s more like the discovery that I am in love with Someone! That Someone has been in my life always, but I only slowly become aware of them, and of their goodness. Prayer is waking up to this mysterious reality that I am the beloved of God (Romans 1:7). The three divine Persons have already taken up residence in the depths of my heart. Growth in prayer occurs when I join in and become part of their conversation, their ‘prayer’.
‘They Love Me!’
If you had good parents, can you remember when you woke up to the fact that your parents loved you—that they’d been loving you long before you were born? That they had always wanted you, just as you? That they’d put themselves out in endless ways over the years for you, but had done so happily? That giving them space in your heart and in your life is right and good for you all? Or think of a friend: can you remember the day they told you that they loved you, and had been loving you for a long time? Prayer is a time of waking up to the fact that you are infinitely loved, and it leads naturally to a loving response. Why should God love me? But God does, and I’m grateful.
For a fortunate child, the love of the parents is simply there, all the time, through good times and bad, whether the child is aware of it or not. And the love in the lover’s heart is simply there, waiting patiently for the beloved to become aware of it. So too in our hearts the prayer of the three divine Persons is simply there, endlessly. For us it is a blessing when we get into tune with the divine music of love in our hearts.
Like this antecedent love of parents and of God, our breath is there, from our first moment to our last. So this prayer of the heart and the breath of our bodies have much in common. They go on even when we know nothing of them. Breathing and praying have been going on in us since the nurse or doctor got our first breath going. In our full reality of body and spirit we have always been a sanctuary for prayer. Speaking silently or aloud the name YAH-WEH to the rhythm of our breathing brings the prayer of the heart to consciousness. That is a cheering thought.
Conversation with Jesus
Focus on the sanctuary of your heart; it is a temple, graced by the presence of your Lord. Settle down and become still, listening to the sounds and become aware of yourself as the point of stillness, the one who receives the sounds because you are quiet. Attend to your breathing, and silently speak the sound ‘yah’ with your outgoing breath, and the sound ‘weh’ as you breathe in. You will gently become aware that God is with you already, even before Jesus shows up, and that, happily, is how it is.
Listen out now for the sound of the Lord’s coming: the footfall on the gravel outside, the knock on the door, the smile and chuckle of his greeting. But when you look at him, you gasp in astonishment: he has become old. His hair and beard are grey, the freshness has gone from his cheeks, which are somewhat sunken; his skin is wrinkled. He comes in more slowly than before; he’s got a stoop. But despite the wrinkles, the eyes are the same; his gaze is even deeper and more understanding, more accepting, more loving. The smile is still there, and it is more expansive than ever before.
Tears come to your eyes. How could it be that he has grown old? You have a flashback to a film where the beautiful heroine goes through an ordeal and emerges as an old woman. Your mind is in turmoil, but his calmness gradually settles you, as if he were saying: ‘Don’t be afraid. All is well!’
And then it hits you! He has become like you: he is the same age as you are! Love makes like, and now you know in a new way how much he loves you. He became human like you, after all, and is like you in every respect (see Habakkuk 2:17)and he has been carrying you along your pilgrim path over all the years. He loves you as you are, and he shows you this by becoming as you are, old, wrinkled, and grey.
He takes your hand and caresses it with his own. The skin is mottled and hangs loose, but the grip is still firm, and the clasp is warm and comforting. You and he gaze into each other’s eyes and search each other’s face. There is no need for words. ‘He comes, comes, ever comes’, and it’s true. Here he is, melting into your life situation, just as you are. And you do as invited by another poet: ‘I greet him the days I meet him, and bless when I understand’ (Hopkins).