Learning to Pray All Over Again

The Carmelite saints and writers describe early stages of prayer in ways that always confused me. For example, Kevin Culligan writes (in his chapter in Carmelite Prayer: A Tradition for the 21st Century): 

Discursive meditation is primary sensory, involving both the external senses and the imagination and memory. One applies the senses to the object of meditation in order to be moved to an emotional response toward that object.

For example, a leader of a meditation group begins a session inviting the group to imagine that they see Jesus tied to a pillar, accepting the scourging of the Roman soldiers for love of them. Later, after a period of quiet reflection on this scene, the leader then instructs the group: "Now, allow yourselves to be moved in love to embrace Jesus by resolving to serve him more courageously in his people."

The saints took it as a given that everyone knew to pray this way, whether the focus was on the mysteries of the rosary or the stations of the cross or other Scriptural vignette moments. And from this taken-for-granted starting place, they talked about how prayer grew in other directions.

This confused me, because by the time I read this, I thought perhaps I was no longer a total newbie at prayer, and yet, because I began praying long before I became a Catholic and had now clue about rosaries or stations or these classic meditation points, I always wondered if I was just now totally lost because either I hadn't started yet, or I had started incorrectly.

Recently, though, I gained some wisdom here. I had absolutely had this foundation in prayer. I called it "praise and worship" or simply, singing hymns. I had just never really grasped what was happening for me. 

In my Lutheran college days, some of my professors took umbrage with Contemporary Christian Music where phrases were simply repeated and there was no theological depth. They were heirs of Luther's pedagogy: he firmly believed that the way to catechize the ignorant masses was through songs. This is how we came by our standard fare 15 verse theological hymns -- and the fact that we actually sang them. I don't at all deny the effectiveness of this. I often found hymns a lot more edifying, helpful, and  illuminating than sermons. 

But the repeated Scriptural phrases have their place as well, and it is to draw one into meditation, where one ruminates on the Word of God and allows it to speak to your soul. What is more, some hymns serve the same purpose as the rosary meditation. I took up one of these hymns this morning in my prayer time and it was quite an experience.

Here it is: 

My prayer experience with this today cemented something for me. This song has been floating through my memory recently. My Lutheran Sunday School was very big on having us kids sing for Sunday services a few times a year. (Have I mentioned what a big deal Lutherans make of music and singing?) This was a favorite song to have younger kids sing, perhaps in part for the cute factor for the congregation. But now that I'm pressing well past the midpoint of my 50s, as a Carmelite devotee of St. Therese to boot, this children's hymn speaks volumes to me.

Today I let it speak. Knowing that prayer needs to involve all of me, I also picked up my guitar and played as well. This is something I have done exactly twice this whole calendar year, ever since the grand music reshuffle at my parish. Prior to that, I had only one blip of personal guitar playing, while I recorded a CD in 2011. Every other time was either at Mass or in preparation for it -- at least once a week though sometimes many more, for roughly 15 years. But since age 11, I spent the equivalent of part time job hours every week writing and playing songs, pouring out my heart, praying, meditating, seeking. But I just called it music.

So, back to the hymn. Go read the words. I sang them, worked in my body and voice praying them, and repeated them until I felt the words in my current adult experience. 

For my Shepherd gently guides me/Knows my need and well provides me...
When I hunger, Jesus feeds me/Into pleasant pastures leads me
When I thirst, He bids me go/Where the quiet waters flow

And when I was done singing, I poured out my heart to the Lord, and He was right there, receiving me. Child Marie doesn't always get much airtime. But she did today, with the help of Psalm 22, childhood memories, imagination, and the fuller participation of my whole body in a way that is deeply meaningful to me. 

Carmelite prayer is not about following a formula or steps. It is about bearing witness to the reality of God as we ourselves step, as the Spirit mysteriously leads. And apparently it is something I can learn anew all the time.