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.

Sweat Pants and God

I was in the bank today waiting for the teller to be finished with somebody who was apparently managing the takeover of RIM through this one beleaguered teller.  As I was filling the time not cursing under my breath, I noticed that roadblock to my banking satisfaction was wearing flip flops and sweat pants two sizes too big for his skinny…  well, you know, waspish frame.

I looked around and noticed that most of the customers were very casual in their dress: It looked like breakfast in University Freshman residence.  I am not being judgmental… I was wearing old jeans, disguised Crocs (don’t tell my wife that I wore Crocs out in public!), and an old zippered hoody  (I may or may not have been wearing underwear).  Maybe it’s because I watched Madmen early this morning (thank you PVR), or because I had nothing else to do as I waited my turn for the teller (another account?? Come on, buddy!)… but do you remember when we used to dress up? 

Not just for weddings and funerals.  People used to dress up to get on an airplane, to go out for dinner, to go shopping… Men wore hats and were never seen without a jacket and tie.  My grandfather would wear a tie to chop wood (which might have got him fired, because really nobody appreciated him bringing all of that wood into work).  But we don’t dress up anymore.

Shopping in sweatpants… I think it was on Seinfeld that it was declared that sweatpants were a declaration to the world that one has given up!  I think that there may be something to this.  

Now, to be clear, I am a casual person: I wear jeans to work, I rarely tuck in my shirt and only recently bought ties after reading Fifty Shades of Grey… so, I’m not looking to get on Blackstone’s fashion list.  But I wonder if maybe this “casual” attitude to haberdashery isn't part of a great casual trend:  We don’t make things as well as we used to… many of us don’t work as hard or work to achieve the same excellence as we once did (good enough for them… close enough for jazz… ).  We’re relaxed and casual about it all.  

Including our faith and beliefs.  How many people really know what they believe?  How many are willing to contemplate, converse, wonder and strive to achieve a philosophy or faith that is actually of some value?  I’m not talking about a jingoistic repeating of phrases or a knee-jerk reaction that automatically disagrees with everything that contains a key word (your choice:  God, Spiritual, Catholic, Scientific, Atheist, Conservative, Liberal, Ke$ha).  I’m talking about a faith in something more than you… something worth working for (or dying for).  Something that challenges you and also comforts you – because you know that what you are working for matters; that what you believe in has value.   I find such a faith in the God that I recognize in Jesus… but that’s me.  I can respect other faiths… but it seems that many of us have donned the sweatpants of belief and declare to the world: I've given up.  We don't want to talk about what we believe.  Sometimes because we don't want to create conflict, but more often than not, I think that it's because we are insecure - we don't really know what we believe.  We have a couple of stories from childhood that we remember, maybe a couple of hymns or folk songs (Kumbaya, anybody?) and couple bumper stickers or FaceBook posts.  But anything with real depth??  Brother, that simply won't tweet!

Please, I ask of you:  Don’t give up. 

Look up.  

Speak up. 

Talk it up.  

Dress up… put on a hat… try a cravat... talk to somebody about what you believe, not in an effort to convert them or to prove your beliefs to be the best… but to engage together in a journey of discovery.  Try an idea on for size and see if it works for you. If it does, add it to your intellectual wardrobe; if not - take it in a bit here and there, bedazzle it... or toss it out and try something else on.  Talk and listen to another person about your philosophy of life, so as to show them respect… the respect of actually sharing something that matters; something that you have spent some time on creating - offer them the respect of listening and considering what they have to say.  You don’t have to be a published theologian… you don’t have to be a blogger (although, let’s be honest, bloggers are so cool!!  Really… that’s what my mom said…and she said that you all non-bloggers are just jealous).  You don’t have to have any experience in theologizing (wondering about God) or philosophizing (loving knowledge), you just have to be prepared to listen and learn.

And maybe... just maybe, we can find a way to grow together. 

Maybe... just maybe, we discover that faith and science can actually get along  

             - even inspire each other.

Maybe... just maybe, we find a place for reason and humility in some of our "religious" pursuits.

Maybe... just maybe, we can stop being puppets of the hate-mongers, the fear merchants and all of those people who insist that there is nothing that we can do about the world. 

Whatever happens... I am convinced that it begins, by getting out of our sweatpants.

   (at least in public)