We look up to what is above. We look up in wonder and praise at the sun. At night our eyes long to decipher the face of the moon. Cathedral spires reach to the heavens and call our eyes towards the silent immensity of the Divine. Mountains and horizons lure our longing. We seem to believe that true reality could not be here among us; it has to be either above us or beyond us. In human society, we adopt the same perspective. We place our heroes and heroines on pedestals. They have power, charisma, beauty, and status. They are the ones we “look up to.” Yet pedestals are usually constructed with the most fragile psychological materials. Once we have elevated someone, we begin to chip away at the pedestal until we find the fissures that will eventually topple the hero. The popular press perfectly illustrates this point; it unmakes the idols it has made. Despite the desire to look up and to elevate people, one of the most touching and truthful configurations of human presence is the individual gathered in prayer.
To sit or kneel in prayer is visually our most appropriate physical presence. There is something right about this. It coheres with the secret structure of existence and reality, namely that we have a right to nothing. Everything that we are, think, feel, and have is a gift. We have received everything, even the opportunity to come to the earth and walk awake in this wondrous universe. There are many people who have worked harder than we, people who have done more kind and holy things than we, and yet they have been given such sorrow. The human body gathered in prayer mirrors our fragility and inner poverty, and it makes a statement of recognition of the divine generosity that is always blessing us. To be gathered in prayer is appropriate. It is a gracious, reverential, and receptive gesture. It states that at the threshold of each moment the gifts of breath and blessing come across to embrace us.
There is so such beauty and goodness in the world. In our times, it is fashionable to paint everything first in its darkest colours. The darkness becomes so absorbing that we never reach the colour and light. To concentrate exclusively on the negative makes us feel powerless and victimized. It is only fair to underline the joy that is in creation, too. Joy is a dignified presence; if we insist on being morose and depressed, joy will not interrupt us or intrude on us. There is a subtle rhythm to joy. Until you break forth to embrace it, you will never know its power and delight. Every day of your life joy is waiting for you, hidden at the heart of the significant things that happen to you or secretly around the corner of the quieter things. If your heart loves delight, you will always be able to discover the quiet joy that awaits to shine forth in many situations. Prayer should help us develop the habit of delight. We weight the notion of prayer with burdens of duty, holiness, and the struggle for perfection. Prayer should have the freedom of delight. It should arise from and bring us to humour, laughter, and joy. Religion often suffers from a great amnesia; it constantly insists on the seriousness of God and forgets the magic of the divine glory. Prayer should be the wild dance of the heart, too. In the silence of our prayer we should be able to sense the roguish smile of a joyful god who, despite all the chaos and imperfection, ultimately shelters everything.
Prayer is an ancient longing; it has a special light, hunger, and energy. Our earliest ancestors knew and felt how the invisible, eternal world enveloped every breath and gesture. They recognized that the visible world was merely a threshold. Their very first representations on the walls of caves expressed the desire to name, beseech, and praise. To the ancient eye, the world was a mystery independent in its own rhythm and poise. Nature was a primal mother with an unfathomable mind; she could be tender or cruel. The force and surface of Nature were merely the exterior visage that concealed a wild, yet subtle mind. For the ancients, prayer was an attempt to enter into harmony with the deeper rhythm of life. Prayer tempered human arrogance; it became the disclosure point of the deeper, eternal order. In post-modern society, the isolated individual has become the measure of all things. It is no surprise that in our loss of connection with Nature, we have forgotten how to pray. We even believe that we do not need to pray.
