Pray Without Ceasing

I admire your attempt at “pray without ceasing.” Paul’s instructions to the Thessalonians have always captivated me. It seems so impossible. And yet, we try. I suppose living can be like that.

I saw this movie last Spring (and by “Spring” I mean “Late Winter.” There is no “Spring” in New England). The movie was called Enlighten Up! It was a documentary about an ordinary 20-something American male who is chosen by a filmmaker to practice Yoga every day for half a year. The man was a skeptic, an agnostic. But the filmmaker hypothesized that strict, repetitive devotion to this ancient spiritual exercise would result in transformation, no matter who the subject. I liked the movie so much I saw it twice in a weekend, the second time by myself.

The skeptic’s journey takes him all the way to Northern India, amongst the ashrams and its mahatmas. There’s this scene in the film that sticks with me. A devotee, a man wearing nothing but a loin cloth and a turban, journeyed thousands of miles to reach this sacred rock. Once he arrived at his destination, he performed this ritual. He circled the rock, pebbles in hand. He genuflected to the ground then lied prostrate for a full second, spilling the pebbles in the dust. He raked his knees forward, gathered the pebbles and lifted his body off the ground, standing for just a moment. And then repeats. And repeats. And repeats. Rising and falling. Crawling ‘round the rock, circling it day and night. And with each breath he mutters in his own language, “God. God. God. God. God. God. God. God. God. God. God. God.”

The scene stirred me.

I don’t know what Paul meant exactly when he told the church at Thessalonica to “pray without ceasing” but I wonder if this half-naked Indian man could explain it to me. His focus and his faith were so singular. So steadfast. So resolute.

God.

If I had to model my prayer life after anyone, I’d choose Tevya. You know. From Fiddler on the Roof. I could write a term paper on the musical. And expect a full theological analysis one of these days.

I absolutely adore the way Tevya communes with God. Tevya approaches God as if He’s a drinking buddy. Like Tevya strolled down to the local pub and found God sitting at the bar.

I love how Tevya speaks to God so candidly. Even going so far as questioning Him!

“Dear God!” Tevya barks, “Was that necessary?” motioning towards his limping horse, “Did you have to make him lame just before the Sabbath?” Tevya sighs, shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “That wasn’t nice. It’s enough you pick on me, bless with me with five daughters, a life of poverty, that’s alright!... But what have you got against my horse?!”

I think we often forget that it’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to be confused. It’s okay to question. Even to question God! Tevya understood this.

I’ve also developed an appreciation for how physical space and objects can facilitate prayer. I don’t collect many things (I think I might be a minimalist at heart). But I have a handful of rosaries, even a couple from the Vatican. (Sidenote: Did you know that rosaries are a spinoff of Mala beads? Some Catholic priests were travelling through the East and saw these monks using these beads to pray. The priests added a crucifix and called it a rosary). I’m also intrigued by the ancient Temple that King Solomon built. The steps leading up to the Temple varied in width and length so that parishioners had to concentrate on each step. The focus and careful attention it took to ascend those steps was supposed to encourage a steady immersion into a “divine” state of mind. Israelites climbed the many steps, and slowly left behind distractions like “what am I going to do for lunch?” “I can’t believe the exchange rate right now!” or “My brother Hezekiah is such a jerk!”

There was a time, long ago, when I prayed daily. I tried to follow our Savior’s example. “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” Add a serving of Bible reading and I was digesting a balanced quiet time each and every morning. But, truthfully, I haven’t had a consistent time with God that spanned more than a season since I was in high school. I’ve made several attempts to go back on the diet, but for many of the usual reasons, I slip back into old habits.

I recently heard this Indian Swami speak (“dots. not feathers.”) At the end of his sermon, he prayed that “God would be ever present in my thoughts and actions.” The prayer resonated with me and I repeated these words like a mantra all day long. I thought to myself that I should make this a daily prayer. Dare I say, a “ceaseless” prayer.

Whether it be in the fashion of the half-naked Indian man or with the flavor and flair of Tevya’s conversations with Yahweh, I’d like to make praying a daily exercise again. I think I need that. How do you it?

PS: For Love of the Game