When I was a younger man, in the seminary and after, I became fascinated with knowing about prayer, and how to pray. I sought out and read countless books – classics and more recent ones. The experience of moving closer to the divine spurred me on. I wanted to know what prayer is and how prayer works so that I might be able to pray “better.”

Certainly everything I read was not helpful to me. But there are a few gems that still seem true. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, author and spiritual explorer, when asked, “How should I pray?” answered, “Pray as you can. Don’t try to pray as you can’t” There is no formula for praying that fits every single person. We need to learn what way of praying fits our life, with its concrete circumstances, as it is today.

Too often we can read about prayer, or hear about a way of praying, that may be very beautiful for a monk or nun in a cloister or monastery. But if we try to practice it, we either give up praying because we can’t pray this way, we do damage to the way of living given us or to our health. Or we might end up with an awkward, clumsy, ill-fitting attempt at prayer – which is more about the how than about who we are trying to open ourselves and our life to. This is not prayer.

An example! When I left the seminary I had no idea where my life was going nor about what God desired of me then. My sister put me in touch with a good priest who advised me, “If you want to know God’s will for you, you need to spend a whole hour a day in prayer.” For years I twisted my life around, avoided plenty of opportunities that would have been good for me, and forced myself to carve out a block of an hour’s time to fulfill this invitation. I really did want to know God’s will, and this way of prayer was helping.

When I was led to join a L’Arche community, with its intense daily reality of  shared living, the community’s leader clearly pointed out to me that my hour of prayer was a luxury in the face of the needs of our people and home. When I complained to my spiritual director about this, he said, “Love is more important than any style of prayer.” I let go of that way of praying.

There’s another bit of wisdom that came to me from one of those books on prayer. A priest wrote that when people in New York City, whose lives are extremely busy, come to him to explain why they can’t possibly pray, he asks them, “Do you have three minutes to yourself a day?” For him, three minutes in which you put aside all else and focus all your attention on God is the absolute minimum amount of time for prayer. Everyone can find three minutes for God.

Then there’s Meister Eckhart, the medieval, German Dominican mystic. One of his most famous quotes is, “If the only prayer you ever pray is “Thank You,” that is enough. Every day is a gift and filled with gifts. We have so much to be grateful for. It’s easy to say, “Thanks!” Pray as you can.

There was strong Jewish community in a town in Eastern Europe some centuries ago. The community was very independent and had all services necessary for its people to live somewhat comfortably, and in peace. The community had one shoemaker, a poor and simple man with a loving wife and children. This shoemaker was responsible to craft and to repair all the shoes among the people.

Of course, there was a rabbi, and there were a banker and a baker, farmers and merchants, a butcher, a bookseller, and a beggar… Some were wealthy, others had enough to get by. A handful of men had the resources and availability of time to join the rabbi every morning for prayer at the synagogue.

The shoemaker went to work very early and stayed late six days a week. On the Sabbath the shoemaker and his family enjoyed resting and remembering God’s faithfulness and goodness to their people. The shoemaker savored the Sabbath with time to relax and to feel God close to him and to his family.

But every other morning of the week, as the “important” men of the community went to synagogue, the shoemaker would look out the window from his bench, think of God, and sigh from the depths of his heart and soul – wishing he could join them in prayer. After many years of toil, his children having grown and started families of their own in nearby towns, the shoemaker died at his workbench. 

The shoemaker went straight to heaven, and there was summoned by the One Who Alone Truly Is to come near to an honored place. The shoemaker, a bit confused and not understanding at all what was happening dared to ask, “My Lord, is there some mistake? I have only lived the simplest of lives, with almost no time to even think of you.” God answered gently, “My son, six mornings a week you sighed your desire to be close to me with your whole being. Welcome.”

This story was given to me many years ago. It’s a favorite. 

This is another in a series of responses to requests from readers. It seems important to repeat myself (maybe multiple times), because certain concepts are crucial to living spiritually. Here it’s the fact that fear is the greatest obstacle and danger that we deal with as human beings. Fear, when we give in to it, can drag us away from God. But we are not helpless in the face of fear. God has given us tools to deflect fear’s fatal attraction.

Do not fear. Do not be afraid. Fear not! Different versions of this invitation from God are probably the most frequent sentiment expressed by God in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. God knows how crippling and destructive fear is. God does not want us to be trapped in fear. Yes, we do, and will, feel fear. that’s not the problem. Life can be difficult and hazardous. The problem is how we choose to respond when we sense fear.

Fear wants to close us in on our self, to sow worry and doubt, to unhealthily question what our hearts know to be true. In the First Letter attributed to St. John (1 John 4:18) the author states, “There is no fear in love, but love that has come to maturity casts out fear.” What is mature love? Mature love is rooted in God’s love for us and for all. Love that is free to give and to receive mutually. Love that doesn’t expect anything in return. Love that knows deeply that all is gift. Fear cannot find access to our heart when God’s love is flowing through us. 

Though love is our best resource to counter fear, it’s not the only one. Love is one of what are known as the three theological virtues. The others are faith and hope. These three are not so much about “doing good acts,” but are special gifts from God that help us to keep our focus on God, and not on our fearful ego (what’s going to happen to me if…) so that we can live freely.

Faith is the inner certainty that God is God, that God is love, that God loves me so much that nothing can shake me – unless I give in to fear. Mature faith fills us with the conviction that, as St. Paul wrote to the early community at Rome, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31b). This is because God is for me, for us, for everyone. We know this to be true, not with our minds, but with our whole being.

Hope is living out of what we believe about God and God’s love – no matter what. Mature hope holds us unswayed by circumstances or apparent outcomes. We trust that God is with us, loving us, loving all, whatever happens. Each moment offers new possibilities since God is our companion. We choose to live fully,  lovingly, fearlessly. 

Wise people say that becoming aware of whatever is moving us within is a first step to growth or other types of change. Is this movement helping us to be more attentive to others, more loving, better human beings, or not? Being conscious of what’s going on inside us can help to catch tendencies either to turning our focus back on ourselves, or outward toward those around us. Believe it or not, it’s not always easy to tell, because our outward focus may be an attempt to have others notice us. See how good she/he is!  or See how bad she/he is!

From our earliest moments, we want to be seen, noticed, recognized as special. It’s natural. Having others acknowledge us in some concrete way gives us a sense of connection and importance. This informs us that we exist. But, as we grow, this seeking attention might become a barrier to maturing. 

With so many mass killings today, especially in the United States, the perpetrator too often has been a victim of bullying. Others have not been able to accept and value their differences. The message they receive is, “You are not like us. You are strange. You don’t belong.” “You don’t matter.”  They come to such a desperate place inside, that knowing that they will almost certainly be killed is less important than having their name and photo on the front page of the newspaper. They will have finally done something that others cannot ignore. They will be recognized as having done something BIG.

The Sufi Masters, those desert mystics from the Islamic tradition, were said to have the ability to read a person’s character in that person’s face. What they saw in someone’s countenance was a person’s habitual way to attract attention, be valued, be seen as special –this is who I am. The problem is that this behavior didn’t flow from the person’s inner self, precious and embraced by God. It was an attempt to prove one’s goodness, worthiness, identity. Ego at work!

It can be a spiritual practice to stop, examine, and question what we are doing. Where is the impulse to do this coming from? God? Our desire to be recognized as good, right, important, noteworthy, outstanding, a someone? My personal favorite is knowledgeable.

In Mark’s Gospel (Mark 4:9), with parallels in Matthew and Luke, at the end of the parable of the sower, Jesus comes out with this command, “Everyone who has ears needs to use them!” Most of us don’t have physical hearing impairments. Jesus seems to think that listening and hearing are essential actions for growing spiritually. This is a challenge in our world that is so filled with noise.

We get so used to continuous sound that we can come to believe that this is normal. We talk on the phone at every opportunity, convinced that we are “keeping in touch” with others. What is called “white noise” is the background, to which we add music, news, talks, instructional or inspirational tapes, television or radio, to the point where we don’t have a moment of inner silence.

There is also the constant chatter of voices within us. Voices of others join with our own voice to provide a never-ending commentary on our self, our life, the world, people in our life. So, even if we escape the external din, we still are avoiding quiet. How, then, can we hear the voice of God?

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe we don’t want to hear what God is whispering deep within ourselves. If we hear God’s voice, we can’t pretend that what we are doing is what God prefers. We will need to face the truth and either ignore God, or we will need to change. Real change is scary and difficult.

If we spend our time roaring, bellowing or pontificating, truth – that wonderful gift of God – cannot penetrate our defenses. We can believe that we are always, and in everything, right. Learning to listen requires effort. God’s first language is silence. In silence God can speak to our hearts. But we need to develop a habit, a minute or so at a time, just listening, open to hear. Over time, with regular practice, perhaps we will be able to be still for five, ten or twenty minutes, or longer.

We have ears. They were necessary to our basic survival in ages past. They are a key to our living fully today. If we can hear, we also need to use our ears to listen to what lies deeper – beneath, and beyond the noise. God wants to quietly tell us that we are totally loved, and that we have something essential to contribute to building up God’s Kingdom now.

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On July 22 each year (except on Sundays) we commemorate the feast of St. Mary Magdalene. This woman has been designated as the Apostle to the Apostles. Yet in the history of Christianity she has long been mischaracterized as a reformed prostitute (e.g. The Chosen) or as Jesus’ lover (e.g. The Last Temptations of Christ). There is no evidence in Scripture for these reputations. Quite probably this “prostitute” label was attached to her by some misguided, pious churchmen who assumed that any woman with “demons” was a sinner and had to be guilty of sexual transgressions. 

Whatever facts we can gather from the Gospels are few. Matthew, Mark and John only mention Mary of Magdala, among other women, in relation to the crucifixion, burial and resurrection of Jesus. All the male disciples had fled. It seems helpful to remember that women, from birth,  were legally considered property of some man. Their main task was child-bearing (especially sons) and child-raising. Of course they would work domestically to help support the household through housework, baking, handiwork or field work, etc. So, it would be very difficult for these evangelists to see women as more than this. Luke, as often happens, is the exception.

Mary was from the town of Magdala, home to a prosperous fish processing industry on the western side of the Sea of Galilee. Since she was (Luke 8:2-3)  one of the women who accompanied Jesus and contributed financially to his ministry, she most likely had made her money in that successful local business. Luke, alone, mentions that Mary had been possessed by seven demons. Whatever her difficulties had been, they seemed to have been considerable – which accounts for the number seven. To say Mary had had seven demons is to indicate that she had big problems – possibly some type of mental illness and/or epilepsy. She felt as if she owed her well being and her life to Jesus. Luke doesn’t mention Mary by name at the cross, just says that those women who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee were there.

While all the Gospels refer to Mary among the women who went to the tomb on the first day of the week (our Sunday), John (John 20:1-18) gives her a special shoutout and a speaking part. In this Gospel, Mary goes to the tomb by herself  before daybreak, discovers the stone covering the entrance rolled away, and runs to tell Simon and the “beloved disciple” (us?). They run to the tomb and find it as Mary reported. Simon and the other disciple can’t understand what this means and return to their hiding place.

While the others leave, Mary stays, weeping out her grief. She bends down and has a vision of angels who ask her why she’s weeping. Mary responds, “They’ve (someone has) taken my Lord away, and I don’t know where to find him.” Mary straightens, turns and sees a man standing nearby. He, too. asks, “Why are you weeping? Who is it that you are looking for?” Mary thinks this is the caretaker for the garden where the tomb is and states, “Sir, if you have taken him, tell me where you put him. I will go and take him off your hands.” It is Jesus who says just her name, “Mary” in that way only he did. Mary, confused and overjoyed at the same time, cries out, “Rabbouni” (my Master).

Jesus responds, “Don’t hang on to me. I have a mission for you. Go back now to the community and tell them for me that I am on my way back to my Abba and your Abba, the One alone who is God.” Don’t hang on to me. Don’t cling to me. Let me go. Do what I ask. Give this consolation to the brothers and sisters gathered together. Mary does this.

How much of our spiritual life and growth hinges on our ability to let go, to not cling or hang on to the past! We need to let go of the ideas, understandings, and ways of doing things that no longer are helping us to move on, to move forward. Prayers, devotions and other religious practices can become habits, which may hinder us from exploring new ways that might lead to maturing in our faith.

We are invited to continually look for Jesus who goes before us. Our mission from Jesus is to be ready to announce to those around us the Good News with the renewed energy that comes from encountering the Risen One as we go about our days. We need to be open. We need to keep our hands, hearts, minds, agendas flexible. We need to listen, when we are seeking, for the One who knows us, and calls us, by name.

Visiting Syria and Lebanon it was clear that people today, in that area of the world, still see reality through a lens of tribe. But my experience is that tribalism is alive and well and fairly pervasive beyond the Middle East. In the US of A it seems that the drive to find one’s tribe is gaining strength. This desire to bond with a somewhat exclusive, homogeneous group tends to deepen when the context in which we live feels more and more uncertain and unpredictable. We seek the false sense of security of a self-contained pod where we imagine that we can control our reality. Here, among others with whom we sense some affinity, we look to find our identity, a sense of belonging, the psycho-social embrace of WE.

We share the same beliefs and values and way of seeing, thinking and speaking of reality. We are right. We are good. We are the true… The problem is THEY. They are wrong. They are inherently evil. They are the false… We are saved. They are not. Tragically the glue of these contemporary tribes is fear. The other is a threat to our way of life. They must be put in their place, or better yet, eliminated. This is our just and justified crusade.

Violence becomes acceptable. Look at gangs. The Mafia. These are extreme examples of tribes. But we have seen that there are other tribes. I am Democrat. I am Republican. I am conservative. I am progressive. Instead of being associates of some group, this is who we are. Instead of leaning in a direction, we are totally in (totalitarians!). Real change is discouraged. Conformity, uniformity, discrimination are marks of these tribes. There is no room for the other, the different.

What happens to simple civility, respect, openness, desire to grow beyond? These are stifled. Civilization suffers. We all suffer, when the fact is, there is no US and THEM. These are perniciously false and artificial labels. We are all human beings with the same dreams, joys, fears, deepest desires, and we are all in this adventure of becoming more fully human together. There is only US. And we’d better start living this truth together soon.

Of course, this tendency to seek security through a dualism isn’t new. But it is totally antithetical to the teachings of Jesus. There is only one God, who created us all. All humans are brothers and sisters. And we share the same basic reality with all creation. We share the same mission to build up God’s Kingdom, guided by God’s Spirit. We are not above. We are a part of a whole. No one ever needs to be, or to feel, alone.

One of the clearest and most radical aspects of Jesus’ life and way is inclusivity. He chose to dine with all sorts of folks. He didn’t choose one group over another. Poor, rich, Pharisee, sinner… Yet shortly after his death and Resurrection, St. Paul is writing to the Christian community in Corinth, scolding and warning them about their destructive tendency to divide into cliques or factions. Some claimed to be adherents of Paul, some of Apollos (another Christian leader), some of Peter, and some (rightly) claimed allegiance to Christ. There was also preferential treatment of rich members over poorer ones. How quickly we drift into the comfortable security blanket of US versus THEM.

What might be an antidote to this insidious human trait? Love! Love as we are loved. Instead of writing anyone off, work to understand them and where they are coming from. Choose curiosity over condemnation. Isn’t that different and interesting? Why is it? Risk dialogue. Get to know the other, not to discover or prove how right we are, and how wrong they are. Who are they? What’s their story? What has been their life’s journey so far? Talk things out. It doesn’t mean that you need to like or to agree with everything, but listen – without the judgmental tape playing as background music in your head. Discover the common humanity of every one. 

We are infinitely more alike than different at core. Welcome the other as sister, as brother. We all belong to the same race, the same family. We are already absolutely precious and wonderful – beloved. We don’t need to put anyone down to try to boost our own status. Let us strive together to seek the good of all, the common good. The alternative is tearing one another apart – mutually assured destruction (M.A.D.) Let us discover together what is better for all and dedicate ourselves to work to make this our shared reality. It will cost all of us something, but it will bring us closer to the Kingdom Jesus introduced.

Let’s face it. Daily life is not often conducive to reflection, or to openness to Mystery. We are busy. Too frequently just trying to get by from day-to-day. The season of Advent was designed to be a preparation to be able to celebrate Christmas more fully, more ready to welcome and to recognize Jesus in the many ways he comes among us. 

The Scripture readings assigned to the daily liturgies are intended to be an aid to our preparation. In those from the Prophets, there is a clear message for us to get ready for something previously unheard of from God. They vibrate with promise. The gospel texts, among other themes, shine a spotlight on the character of John the Baptizer.

When Jesus questions the crowds about John, he is challenging their expectations of John, and for John. This is an Advent challenge for all of us. How can we live expectantly, without falling back on expectations? We’d feel so much more secure, if only we had a preview of what is to come.

At the birth of John, in the first chapter of the Gospel of Luke, the neighbors in the hill country ask the question: “What will this child (surrounded by so much wonder and mystery) become?” Yes, this is a question that precedes every newborn who is eagerly expected. John grows into the role of prophet, and warns everyone who dares come near him at the Jordan River to get their act together. As usual, some get it, others don’t.

Jesus asks the question of those who follow him, “What did you go out into the Judean wilderness to see?” In other words, “What did you expect John to be?” Do you notice how many “sinners” – like tax collectors and prostitutes – heeded John’s message to get their lives together. They went to be baptized, because they took John’s preaching to heart. They wanted to be prepared for the new work that God is about to do in the world. By implication, Jesus is also pointing out those who refused to pay attention to John’s warning. These were unwilling and unable to live expectantly. They were quite certain that God would act as they expected – too bad for you sinners!

There is the pregnant couple expectantly awaiting a child of promise. They could never imagine what Jesus would turn out to be and to do, but they trusted God’s Word. Certainly they didn’t imagine a manger in a cave behind an inn, shepherds, Magi, angels, death threats from Herod, a nighttime escape to Egypt – of all places… It was impossible for them to draw up mental pictures of this wonderful child.

We are challenged by Advent to put aside our expectations and to live expectantly. Not trying to guess what God might do with, in and through us. Advent is a season of Hope. We are called to trust that what God will do, will be blessed.  And that whatever happens, God is and always will be Emmanuel, God-With-Us, right here in the middle of the craziness, the unknown, the overwhelming mess that is our life. Even though we may never see and understand how or why.

We are born with an expiration date stamped on our hearts. Sadly, some people die before their time because of accident, or violence, or long-term trauma that wears a body and spirit down. But we all know that we will die, from the moment we find out pet turtle or goldfish no longer moving about as they did only yesterday. We are born in time. We live in time. We will die in time. It’s just, I don’t know, more pleasant, or more convenient, to imagine oneself as perpetually five years old, or 10 or maybe 27, or even 39. Until death is staring one in the face. An accident, a life-threatening illness, being caught in a crossfire we didn’t anticipate… Anything like this could wake us up. Or maybe not.

The month of November, with All Saints and All Souls Days, along with Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day or the anniversary of the passing of one dear to us, can all serve as reminders of our inherent mortality – if we let them. Death is one of the very few certainties for living creatures, a fact, not to be feared. Death has the power to give us the gift of perspective. We are not here forever, moving from day to day. 

Living lightly the awareness of death can free us to choose to live more fully, more boldly, more openly. We don’t need to be constantly looking over our shoulder, trying to dodge what might be. We can let go of any regrets for what wasn’t, won’t or can’t be. What God wants for us is to live life wholeheartedly, now, loving with all we’ve got, giving ourselves and being good to ourselves, making our world a little bit better, a more human place for all.