Prayer and Spiritual Spooning

Someone asked me recently, if I prayed.

Now, I’m careful about such questions.  I’m cautious…   I’ll tell you what teams I cheer for, what foods I like, who I think is hot (always, and only, my wife).  I’ll tell you about the pedicure I got last week, the experience of my last colonoscopy and I’ll even give you the PIN for my bankcard, before I’ll talk about prayer  (Which is weird because I’m a Minister and it’s kinda in the job description)

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But as well as being a Minister, I’m also a people pleaser  (many people think I could work harder at this..).  Deep down, I like to make people happy and I hate to disappoint.  I hate to let the earnest believers down when I won’t affirm their belief in a Celestial Concierge to whom I appeal for information, recommendations, reservations, transportation, entertainment and polite solutions to all of my problems.   I also hate to disappoint my “oh so progressive” friends who want me to divorce myself from anything “supernatural” and confirm that prayer is just a kind of self-help meditation practice in which I enable myself to be lovable, capable and gosh-darn amazing.

Answering questions about my personal prayer life, can only lead to disappointment… so, I often change the subject:

"Prayer… that sounds like hair… I love musicals, do you love musicals? I went to London once and saw lots of musicals and I ate a bug…"

Undaunted, the Master of my Inquisition persisted:  “Do you pray?”

“Yes” 

“Do you pray often?”
“Yes” (that’s me, always taciturn).

“Regularly?”
“Yes… I’m a big fan of spiritual bran”  (that sounds more like me)

“Come on… tell me more… how do you pray?”

“I pray Girly in the morning.”

“What?”

“I pray Girly in the morning.”

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, than forget it…”

Mission accomplished… he stormed off and I left the Men’s shower at the gym (people do seem to find the strangest places to start conversation).

However, this time, I actually was ready to explain.. I finally knew how to answer the question.  In fact, I kind of wanted to answer… but I thought that my running naked after him calling out “Wait, wait… I know how to do it now..” would have seemed awkward.  

So, I will instead, blog my reply.

I pray Girly in the morning.

I do pray every morning… heck, I pray all throughout the day… but I make a point of quieting the world down and praying in the morning.  Sometimes at 6am; sometimes at 11:30… but always Girly.   Which has nothing to do with what I wear when I’m praying… and everything to do with my attitude to prayer.

Now, I should warn you that I am about to venture into some serious engagement with cultural stereo-types, which might be offensive to some (feel free at this point to switch over to a Youtube video of a cat riding on Roomba).  I am inspired by Meister Eckhart, Julian of Norwich and David Steinberg when it comes to prayer, but for the authority that comes from cultural stereo-types, I rely heavily on the film canon of Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock and Meg Ryan (the Holy Trinity of chick flicks).  Pouring over the canon, here is what I’ve learned:

Women and men are different.

Men like to do things and get things done…. Often with duct tape.

Women like to talk… communicate… cuddle…  (almost never with duct tape)

Men are in a hurry.

Women are patient.

Men are motivated by reward.

Women are motivated by relationship.

Men, when they listen to women, like to go and fix things.  (again, often with duct tape)

Women just want to be heard…

Women like to cuddle....

Women like Johnny Depp.  (but hey, who doesn't?)

When I pray, I believe that something profound happens.  I believe that my prayers matter.  I believe that the world changes and I change in and as a result of prayer.   But I pray to God…. The Divine… the Holy (and wholly) Other…  as if I was a big girl.  I’m not motivated by reward or fixated on results; my desire is communication and relationship.    My prayers to God are meant to enhance our relationship; to open us further to one another.  In response to my prayers, I’m not expecting God to do my bidding or to rush out and fix things for me… I just want God to listen to me.   I just want to share who I am and be accepted for my experiences, thoughts and feelings and be loved just as I am.  I guess, I’m looking for a little Spiritual Cuddling.

In that cuddle; in that acceptance, I am strengthened… and my awareness is heightened.  As God and I become closer, I am more aware of the Presence of the Divine in the world around me, more attuned to the voice that invites me into beauty, greater depth, deeper joy, varied connection and real wholeness.   Prayer is a place for us (me and God) to enhance and enable a relationship.

I pray about my friends who are suffering, not because my expectation is that God will send an angel and end Aunt Edna’s woes, but because if God is going to know me then God needs to know that I’m awake nights worrying about my beloved Aunt.  I need God to spiritually spoon with me and say “I know…. I know…”  If Edna is on the receiving end of some kind of miraculous gift, then I’m going to be very happy… but regardless of what happens in the next couple of days as a result of prayer, I will at least be more aware of God’s presence in her life and in our relationship… and so, might be able to point to something comforting or inspiring... I might have an observation or insight that has value to Edna, because prayer has opened my eyes and my heart to the Divine.

There was a time that I prayed like a man… or a boy, anyway:  Asking for help and judging God’s love and my worth by the evidence of my will being done.  But then, the Toronto Maple Leafs stopped winning Stanley Cups and I had to wonder.  I came to a crossroads where I would have to give up cheering for the Leafs or give up believing in God (surely, I was good enough to warrant a reward… especially in the 1970s.  The other choice was that I would have to come to a new understanding of prayer.   And so, not ready to give up on God or the Buds, I reconsidered prayer. 

And I found Girly prayer. 

Prayer that asks God to hold me and never let me go… Prayer that tells God about my day, my hopes and my fears without the expectation that God is going to fix everything or take over my life… Prayer that invites and enhances relationship: relationship that invites both parties to grow… Prayer that brings me a deeper appreciation of God’s presence all around me and invites me to be part of that life…  And as I become a part of God's life, I begin to change the world...  Quite satisfying and remarkable, actually. 

Now, if I can just figure out how to get the duct tape in, I’ll have it all.

At a loss with a Prophet....

I love the prophets.  I love the stories… I love the passion… I love the wild beards.   I love the license to speak and say what must be said.   I had lunch with a prophet today.  Well, he looked like a prophet.  He’s older than me.  Jewish.  Wild greying beard… and he has a gruff voice that can make you smile, even as it commands your attention.  The kind of voice meant to echo off of walls or from the bottom of cisterns  (look it up).

We sat in a lovely restaurant beside Lake Ontario, he ate mussels, I drank wine… and we talked.  We talked as old friends do; we said things that should never be blogged and we laughed at things we would never admit to laughing at. I imagine that lunch with Elisha might have been much the same, although an all you can eat salad bar would likely replace the bottomless soup pot  (again, look it up).   Some might see a difference in that my friend does not believe in God.  He comes from a long line of very devout men and women; he learned his lessons well… but as he feels his age; continues to grieve the loss of his wonderful wife and partner almost 16 months ago and watches the insanity of the world on his TV, he has given up. God has let him down or, at least, left him with no purpose.  I was at a loss as to how to respond.

What.. I’m supposed to tell him to get over his grief and enjoy his life?  What kind of pisher do you think me?  (Can’t help it – spend time with the man, you want to speak Yiddish).  Normally, we know what to do with people like this:  Smile at them, speak loudly and slowly... and pretend you can’t hear them as you walk away.  After all, you can’t make them happy, so why try?

My friend misses his wife.  He hurts for the mishegas of the world (warned you…).  He is dispirited by political gamesmanship, blatant dishonesty, stupidity on the part of the public and the never-ending pursuit of more war, more hatred and little effort made to increase  respect or humanity.   He remembers a time when honour and morality were valued and celebrated in society, religious groups didn’t sell out for money and parents valued their children more than themselves.   He longs for a time when people would listen to each other.

Like I said, there’s nothing you can do to make him happy.  So, best to leave him alone:  His loss of joy in life doesn't have to be mine.  You know what I mean... I can't fix him, so best to get my distance in case he brings me down. 

But, remember I also said that he was a prophet.  And as I recall, prophets didn't really want to be cheered up or fixed.  Jeremiah wasn’t hoping that someone would show him that things were actually better than he thought; he wasn't asking to be shown a sunny sky and told that all was right with the world.  He knew that things were a mess and what he wanted was for others to hear him… to listen… and take action to make things better for themselves.  Same as my friend… he’s not asking me to cheer him up, he wants me to listen... he wants me to learn.  So, I'm listening.    Here’s what I heard today: *

I should be very aware that I am in a good place in my life and I should enjoy it and be thankful, not take for granted my supportive, loving wife… my kids… my friends… my health.   Nothing lasts forever and it would be shame to only realize after things have changed, how great they really were.

I should be aware that real faith in God does not come from a book or someone telling you what to believe… it comes from within.  It is nurtured and celebrated in a feeling of purpose. Call it God; don’t call it God… but feel it and act on it.

I should do all that I can to support and highlight those who make the “right” choices, even when the wisdom of the world would have them do something else: Those who give up votes, power or money because there is a higher calling than being rich, powerful or elected. 

I should listen…   That was his very explicit message to me: People should listen.  It is in listening, really listening, that ideas get in and take root… that strangers become friends… the respect is born and hope is possible.  If we don’t listen than we live in our own little worlds… alone and lonely.

The irony is that this Atheist Jew revealed more God to me in our lunch than a semester of studying the prophets in Seminary.  He opened up his life; his heart…and he showed me God’s message inside.  I hope that I remember… not only what he said, but also that he HAS something to say.  The next that I’m tempted to grin and think about about something else as another un-cheerful person wants to talk… I hope that I remember to listen and discover the wisdom that they are offering; I hope that I treat them with the respect that a prophet deserves – even if I don’t know them or love them as much as I do this guy. 

If I can, then maybe… just maybe, I learn;  the world gets better; God’s presence becomes more clear; and I get to be half the mentsh my friend has always been… (look it up, I can’t do everything for you)

If you have a chance... grab lunch with a prophet, you'll be glad that you did.

* I should be honest -  he may have said very different things, and I could be mis-representing him completely…but that's his tsuris!)