When the Homily is about Immunology

"Canned" Prayer

I've always pretty much sucked at praying. Now that is not to say that I couldn't come up with some real humdingers - indeed at the pentecostal bible college I used to attend I learned (primarily outside the classroom) how to really fill a group prayer with some serious emotional hype. We'd call it the moving of the Holy Spirit, and though we'd never admit it, this emotional hype became the criterion by which we determined whether our personal or corporate prayer could be properly called a "good" experience.

My "good" prayer experiences were few and far between and the blame for this rested solely on my shoulders - after all everyone else was having intense esctatic (read "good") prayer times with God, right? I also was never able to maintain a consistent rule of prayer. How many times did I find myself going to the dorm room chapel, kneeling, and not having a clue what I should say or worse yet what to ask for? My prayers were often the same from day to day, as if I could almost recite what was on my heart. Sometimes I'd literally say to God: "What can I tell you today, God, that I didn't tell you yesterday?" Numerous times I'd fall asleep and wake up in time for lunch - having missed most of my classes. I got to the point that if I found myself drifting into "evango" (i.e. "Lord I just pray...."etc etc) I wanted to puke. So, why was I having so much trouble with prayer? Maybe I didn't have a "personal relationship with Jesus Christ"? Maybe I wasn't "saved"? More "evango"....plugh! Perhaps a trip to the local Christian Bookstore for the newest offering on prayer? Oh, if only the Prayer of Jabez had existed while I was an evangelical I wouldn't be Orthodox today? (please note my tone of voice which reveals cynical intent)

In the movie Shadowlands (which I highly recommend) based on the life of C.S. Lewis, they have Lewis proclaim the following: "Prayer doesn't change God. It changes me." I have no idea if Lewis ever actually said this, but none-the-less it moved me profoundly.

Recently a friend joined me and my family for dinner and we offered the traditional Orthodox prayer and blessing over the meal. He was not very impressed and engaged me in a discussion over the dangers of "canned" prayers. I don't think he knew that I'd seen both sides of the fence, and was abit suprised when I agreed with him. And if I agreed, why do I use "canned" prayers?

Well, I woke up this morning and had no desire to pray - none at all. No doubt none of you reading this has experienced this. But as I stagger out into our living room, Christ the Pantocrater, the Theotokos, and all the other Saints stare at me from our Icon corner. They all seem to beckon me, calling me to escape the clock and join myself to the past, present, and future. I approach and offer my reverent salutations. I know the morning prayers and I bring them to recollection in my heart...pondering them with great intention as they flow slowly and deliberately from my lips. In this way, I make these tried and true ancient words my own, and I find that I am being changed.

Sometimes (perhaps often times in my case), what comes out of cans is medicine for the soul.