Nouwen: Jesus Prayer

Nouwen: Jesus Prayer

“Lord God, Lamb of God, that takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on me.”

Previously, we read about the Jesus Prayer from Bishop Hibbs. Today, we learn more about it from Henri Nouwen. This prayer is a modification of the Agnus Dei recited or sung in the Eucharist or Communion service at the Fraction after the celebrant breaks the consecrated bread.

The prayer is also a modification of the ancient Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.” I have used this modification for years, awakening during the day—especially during difficult times and as I fall asleep. When we pray the Jesus Prayer or a modification continuously, it is considered a Prayer of the Heart: opening the heart with unceasing prayer, as Paul called for in Romans 12:12 and 1 Thessalonians 5:17.

I have been to only one General Convention of the Episcopal Church. What I remember most is attending a special lecture by Henri Nouwen. I continually give thanks for taking time out of a busy day to go. I do not remember a word Nouwen said, but I remember his presence. It was loving, accepting, not centered on himself, at peace with himself, the closest thing I have experienced to a holy presence. I can still feel that holiness in his writings.

Nouwen’s theme of praying the Jesus Prayer, or Prayer of the Heart, is found in Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life. Nouwen contends that practice moves our prayers from the head to the heart, as we realize that answers to questions and the presence of God are in our hearts. Nouwen’s thoughts remind me of the spiritual exercises of Anthony de Mello, who also recommends connecting our mind and body to our breath to move from our head to our heart and body.

The Jesus Prayer has been a part of my being, particularly when I find myself living in fear. I have never said it unceasingly 3000 times a day, then 6000, then 12,000 times a day, as the 5th-century Egyptian Desert Fathers and the 19th-century Russian monk recommended to the anonymous Russian peasant in The Way of the Pilgrim.

I confess that I pray the Jesus Prayer more often when I reach my human limits, indicating my powerlessness, rather than using the prayer on God’s terms.

Nouwen teaches about the paradox of prayer, learning to pray when we can only receive prayer as a gift. God’s Spirit, God’s breath, prays into and with us. Instead, I often use prayer, especially the Jesus Prayer, in times of weakness, as a support system, as a foxhole prayer, or when I can no longer help or control the situation and am desperate.

Nouwen reminds us to pray the Jesus Prayer at the point when we can reach out to God, not on our own terms and needs, but on God’s terms. This kind of prayer pulls us away from self-preoccupation and challenges us to enter a new world, a great adventure, praying to our God, who has no limits.

Nouwen’s book Reaching Out, about the spiritual journey and union with God using the Jesus Prayer, is one I keep readily available by my bed. I recommend it to those who come to me for spiritual direction if they are experiencing the absence of God. Nouwen writes that God is present, but God’s presence is beyond our human experience of being connected, which may be perceived as absence. Yet, paradoxically, God’s absence is often so deeply felt that it can lead to a new sense of God’s presence.

 Nouwen’s book is excellent for adult studies, especially during Advent or Lent.

The Way of the Pilgrim and The Pilgrim Continues His Way, a new translation by Helen Bacovin. (Image 1978).

Henri Nouwen in Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life. (Image 1975).

Henri Nouwen in Desert Wisdom: Sayings from the Desert Fathers. (Orbis 1982).

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Keating, Bourgeault: Centering Prayer

Thomas Keating, Cynthia Bourgeault: Centering Prayer

“God can be held fast and loved by means of love, but by thought never.”    —The Cloud of Unknowing, Ira Progoff, tr. (Delta Books, 1957).

In Centering Prayer, we select a sacred word as the symbol of our willingness to surrender to the presence of God. We sit comfortably, eyes closed in silence, and introduce the sacred word. Whenever thoughts return, we silently speak the sacred word. At the end of the prayer period, we remain silent, eyes closed for a few minutes.

Thomas Keating suggests practicing Centering Prayer for twenty minutes twice a day. Is Centering Prayer a simple letting go of one thought after another? That can certainly be our subjective experience of the practice, and this is exactly the frustration we sometimes encounter during Centering Prayer and Lectio Divina.

Keating tells the story of a nun who tries out her first twenty-minute experience of Centering Prayer, and then laments, “Father Thomas, I’m such a failure at this prayer. In twenty minutes, I’ve had ten thousand thoughts!” “How lovely,” responded Keating. “Ten thousand opportunities to return to God.”

Keating emphasizes that Centering Prayer is indeed a pathway of return to God, and this may be what the writer of The Cloud of Unknowing was trying to tell us.1 We also need to remember that the benefit of Centering Prayer does not always come during the prayer time, but sometimes later in the day or week, when we feel God’s presence at the moment, as we never knew it before. This truth is expressed best in several of the promises in The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous: “We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.”2

1Adapted from Cynthia Bourgeault, The Heart of Centering Prayer: Nondual Christianity in Theory and Practice (Shambhala, 2016), pp. 14, 28-29, 120, 123. From Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation, February 11, 2017, Cynthia Bourgeault, guest writer.

2The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous (Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 4th ed., 2001), pp. 83-84.

Another spiritual practice that may be helpful to try during these difficult times.

Joanna joannaseibert.com.  

Wounded Healers

Charleston: Recovery and Compassion

“Those who have been broken, in mind, body, or spirit, who have been humbled and hurt, but have made their way back, held on and kept going, sought forgiveness and found redemption, discovered a healing they never expected. To all those who understand this experience without the need for further words, I offer this recognition: you are the sisters and brothers of compassion, the ones who know what it feels like, the ones who are witnesses to life reclaimed. Be blessed in your recovery, for each one of you is a source of faith for so many, who see in you the answer to a prayer they ask for themselves.”   —Steven Charleston, Facebook Meditation.

So many spiritual writers continue to tell us this truth, as does our own experience. We become healers of the suffering in this world because we also know the face and body of internal and external injury. This is the continual story of how Easter can follow Good Friday. Once we have experienced suffering, we can learn about and experience compassion, compassion shown to us by others who also know about wounds, as they were ministered to by others who also were wounded. This can become the cycle of compassion.

There is a choice, however. We daily encounter those who endure their suffering by causing more pain to others, demanding an “eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” This is the life of fear and retaliation, hurting others before they can hurt us.

Perhaps those who are so fearful were influenced by individuals who never knew compassion, so they learned only to inflict more suffering.

Perhaps we can help break this cycle through compassion, listening to others’ stories, and hoping they will share how their woundedness began. This is what spiritual friends do.

As we listen to each other, we look for sparks, compassion, the presence of God in our mutual suffering. We remind each other that this presence is always, always there—sometimes in people and places where we least expect it: in tears, the hug of a child, the nurse or physician or X-ray technologist who makes eye contact and holds our hand when they see our pain; the aging, disabled woman at the food pantry who tells us to have a blessed day. Our wounds can be openings for the presence of God, the great healer, in our lives and in the lives of others.

Joanna joannaseibert.com