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Prayer Changes People
Alida M. DeCoster
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
November 17, 1996
Opening Words
Look to this day, for it is life,
the very life of life.
In its brief course lie all the verities and realities
of our existence:
the bliss of growth,
the glory of action,
the splendor of beauty.
For yesterday is but a dream,
and tomorrow only a vision,
but today well lived
makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
and every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day.
#419 Singing the Living Tradition
Do you know any prayers "by heart?" I love this expression, "by heart." When we memorize
words over a period of time, don't they develop a special power for us? In our chapel at Unity
Church in St. Paul when I was growing up, there were words and songs we sung every week.
One small prayer we sang every week was this traditional one: "Let the words of my mouth and
the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer." I
find these words very moving. They live in my heart. Our children know three songs by heart
that they sing every week: "Enter, Rejoice and Come In," "Chalice, Chalice Burning Bright" and
"From You I Receive, To you I Give." I suspect they will remember these songs for many years
to come. Did you learn to say the Lord's Prayer? The 23rd Psalm? Have you memorized other
poems or prayers that are meaningful to you? The opening and closing words today are ones that
I have learned by heart. Saying them over and over again is not boring. They become more
meaningful with time.
Today, I am speaking about prayer. There is a power in putting our deepest hopes and
aspirations into words. A power is harnessed when we focus on what we most need and want,
when we put our wishes and hopes for ourselves and the world into words and repeat them.
There is also a power in words and poems which we learn by heart and repeat. I recently watched
a video called "Living by Heart" produced by two Unitarian Universalist ministers, Laurel
Hallman of the First Unitarian Church of Dallas and Harry Scholefield retired from First Unitarian
Society of San Francisco. Both are known in our denomination as being committed to spiritual
practice, both personally and professionally. They teach us to select and reflect on words and
writings. They tell us that special words will come to bear more and more fruit as we repeat them
over time. As we learn them "by heart," they speak to us more deeply.
I wish to assert my belief in the importance of developing a regular habit of personal reflection.
You may call this spiritual practice or meditation or prayer. It involves a commitment to finding a
regular time and place to summon an attitude. An attitude of waiting and openness. Of gratitude
and humbleness. Harry Scholefield says we need to be willing to pay attention to what is going
on inside of us. This may involve waiting silently, which is not always easy. It takes practice. If
we are patient, the still small voice inside us will guide us. Harry says, if we do not develop a
devotional life, we will dry up, wither inside and blow away.
Of the many possible forms of spiritual practice, today, I am speaking of prayer. I meditated daily
for a number of years. Now I pray every day. It is different. I see meditation as taking an
attitude of waiting, of cultivating a discipline of silence. Now, in prayer, I put things into words.
Now, every morning, evening and at meals, I actually put words together to express my deep
feelings of the moment. In the past I always had trouble with this, because I felt foolish. I didn't
believe in a God who understood English and was listening to my specific request for attention. It
didn't make any sense.
I still do not believe in that kind of God. But I pray anyway. I have decided that I have to give
up trying to figure out who or what God is. I just call it the Mystery. However, there is
something very helpful about addressing prayers to "you," as if there was a listener. We read
together Walt Whitman's words addressed to "you, whoever you are." I remember a spiritual
director I once had commenting that she needed to speak to a higher power because she needed
to be in relationship with all of life. "I cannot have a relationship with a value," she said. If we
do not address prayer to a "you," a sense of isolation remains. Using "you" encourages us to feel
a kinship with all of life. It helps us feel connected.
There seems to be such an immediate effect to putting things into words, that I will go ahead and
pray "to whom it may concern" anyway and set my reason aside. When I ask for serenity, I feel
serene right away. When I ask for forgiveness, I feel forgiven. I have been changed by prayer.
Many people have said this to me as well. I will try to explain what I mean, first by saying what
prayer is not and then by describing four familiar forms of prayer.
I would like to make a distinction between what I call material prayer and emotional prayer.
There is a classic rock song by Janis Joplin that is a material prayer. She sings, "Oh, Lord, won't
you buy me a Mercedes Benz....Won't you buy me a color T.V....Won't you buy me a night on
the town..." This is not what I mean by prayer. Many people have a childlike, magic view of
prayer. The fact that this kind of prayer seems to work sometimes is coincidence. We pray for
something we want outside of ourselves. We receive it. We think, Aha, prayer works. What if
our prayers are not answered? Then we are trapped into trying to determine "what we must have
done to deserve" something. Things are not that logical where prayer is concerned. We should
not think in terms of results, in terms of cause and effect. This kind of thinking comes from our
human craving for logic, for reasons why. We want life to be more predictable than it is.
So what good is prayer? An emotional prayer is one for the courage, strength, love and insight
to cope with what happens. Prayer is about opening ourselves to life, not about getting what we
want in a material sense. So, though we may pray for a new bike for Christmas and not get it, if
we pray for an open heart to take joy in whatever we do get for Christmas, that kind of prayer
usually works. That is the difference between material prayer and emotional prayer.
Now I would like review four familiar forms of prayer: praise, petition, confession and
intercession. These can be translated as "thanks," "ouch," "sorry" and "please help."
It has been said that if we were to say only one prayer in our lifetime, "thank you" would be
enough. I have found it very helpful to cultivate an "attitude of gratitude." In my new prayer
life, every morning I pray, "thank you so much for this beautiful day." Rain, snow, sleet, hail or
sun, every day is a beautiful day. Saying this sincerely every morning makes it more true. In my
prayer of gratitude, I try to give thanks for the hard lessons I am dealing with, because I know
they will help me grow. In a way you might say this is a kind of programming. I am developing a
thankful groove in my brain. I am training myself to be grateful for life because it helps me cope
with the hard things of life. Our Thanksgiving holiday is coming and I find it empty if I am with
people who only eat and do not express gratitude for all the sacrifices and efforts that make the
gorgeous spread of food available. We are so lucky to have such bounty. So many do not.
Gratitude is an essential part of spiritual practice. Here is a poem I love about gratitude for each
day and food by Anne Sexton called "Welcome Morning":
There is joy
in all;
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee each morning.
In the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.
All this is God,
right here in my pea green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck in their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.
The joy that isn't shared, I've heard ,
dies young.
The second form of prayer is petition. Ouch! Many of the Psalms begin with lament, a calling out
for God. Prayers of petition are the natural outcry of suffering. Where is love and hope? My
loved one has died, my livelihood has been lost, my people have been destroyed. We are all
crushed by life at some point or other. At this point, many lose faith in the God of their
childhood. I have been a good person, we cry. Why have we been betrayed? Even Jesus on the
cross cries out, "My God, my God, Why hast thou forsaken me?" He is quoting the 22nd Psalm
and it continues, "Why art thou so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my
God, I cry by day, but thou dost not answer; and by night, but find no rest...O Lord, be not far
off! O thou help, hasten to my aid. Deliver my soul from the sword, save me from the mouth of
the lion" Yet, finally, in so many of these lament psalms, the sufferer reaffirms faith, an attending,
a waiting that will finally result in peace. It is as if one can be reassured by taking a long view of
suffering. Again, from the 22nd Psalm, "The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied; those who seek him
shall praise God! May your hearts live forever."
What is the point of crying out to the Mystery when we suffer? What kind of comfort might we
receive? Here my prayer might be for the courage to admit my need to those around me. From
whence cometh our help? A member of our Pastoral Associates group told us at our last meeting
how she is learning to reach out and ask for the help she needs. She is amazed at how much has
opened up. New possibilities are blossoming. When one door closes, another opens. Admitting
our need and opening to help that is out there invites the help. So often, with misfortune, over
time we learn the profound lesson that is embedded in the loss. Life will never lose its tragic
character. Putting our needs into words is the first step in getting comfort in the midst of tragedy.
We may say in our prayer, "May I be open to the love and comfort of others. May I be guided to
those who will understand. Please allow me to gain a deeper understanding of this difficult
experience." These are prayers of petition we might put forth. Yes, life hurts. We do not have to
be alone in it. Life and love are stronger than death. As we move through the dark times, we
need others to remind us of that. We can pray to trust that others are there, will be there. Maybe
not those we expect. We may be surprised at the source of our comfort.
Thank you! Ouch! What about "I'm sorry?" This could be the hardest one for us. For those
who grew up in a very shaming environment, it is very hard to learn to admit our real wrongs.
We confuse shame with realistic guilt. Every human being makes mistakes and hurts others. We
are very touchy about concepts such as sin and evil, and cannot imagine that such words could
ever apply to us. Unitarian Universalist minister Forrester Church in his book, The Devil and Dr.
Church, says that the devil's greatest ruse is to convince us he does not exist. M. Scott Peck, in
The People of the Lie, contends that most evil is very mundane, and usually boils down to
laziness. We do not take the trouble to transform ourselves into better, more loving, more honest
people. We settle for the routine, the status quo. We refuse to change because change is hard.
That is the essence of every day evil and most of us are guilty of it.
What might we say in a prayer of confession? I like the word "apologize." To the great "you" of
life, I say, "I apologize for being afraid of change. I apologize for my impatience. I apologize for
judging too harshly and quickly. Please allow me to be more kind and patient." Again, I am
trying to develop a patient groove in my very impatient brain. I am finding even joyous changes
in my life to be alarmingly difficult. I used to move every few years. Now, in my forties, moving
a mile away after living in my condo for ten years, is excruciatingly difficult. Why? I do not have
the resilience of youth anymore. I pray to be more resilient, more flexible. I pray for the ability to
try and do the new thing, the hard thing when called for. I pray to have an open heart in my
relationships, to love freely and fully when I have been too crabby or demanding. A prayer of
confession is a simply apology for our human stumbling. It cleans our slate and sets us on a new
path.
Here is a prayer by A. Powell Davies, from The Language of the Heart, which I would call a
prayer of confession.
Save us, O God, from prayers that are too fluent and from softly spoken insincerities. Help us to
beware of language which in its soothing beauty hides the truth, and especially the truth about
ourselves. When the tranquilizing word is spoken, give us to search out its inner meaning, lest we
still the voice of conscience, thinking thus to quieten our unrest. Remind us how brittle is the
shelter that we build about ourselves with comfortable phrases: show us how vain, at last, are all
our self-deceiving words. Give us to know that the path to peace is guarded by the flaming sword
of truth, and that its guide is righteousness. And let us not forget that all pretense is unavailing
when we talk with (You).
Thanks, ouch, sorry; finally, please help. Intercessory prayers are for those we love and for the
world. Harry Scholefield tells of his prayer roster. Everyday, in his prayer time, he goes through
a list of his family members. He takes a moment to visit each relationship in prayerful reflection.
He considers what tending each relationship may need. Laurel Hallman reviews her appointment
book in the same way. She focuses in turn on those in her congregation who need her attention.
Now I, too, in my morning and evening prayer, consider those I care about, especially those in
particular need. When we give thoughtful consideration to our relationships, they are nurtured.
In the Post on Wednesday was an article about a group of anonymous Christians who come
together weekly to pray for the city of Washington. What is happening? People join together
publicly to pool their energy on behalf of a greater good. When people pray at rallies, marches,
religious rituals, and community gatherings something significant happens. When groups of
people focus their will and best intention together for a good cause, momentum builds and love
spreads.
Here I might mention the fascinating research that is going on demonstrating in well designed
peer reviewed studies the actual positive effects of prayer on phenomena, from the growth of
bacteria to the health of faraway strangers. Larry Dossey M.D., author of Healing Words: The
Power of Prayer and The Practice of Medicine, is a well known writer and researcher in the field.
In this book, he cites many studies while also reflecting on the nature and types of prayer. Not
enough is known to make conclusive statements, but I am open to the possibilities of new
knowledge about the effectiveness of prayer. It is a form of telepathy. It is not something we
understand or can measure yet. I believe someday we will. What is important is that prayer
should be used, not for selfish or material gains, but for growth and healing.
For now, I return to my quote from Lon Ray Call which I used in the newsletter. "Prayer doesn't
change things. Prayer changes people and people change things." Intercessory prayer changes
those who pray. The energy of love builds and ripples through the world. A kind of momentum
builds through community prayer. A whole community can form a new groove in its collective
brain. We will care for those in need, we will teach them to care for themselves in the ways that
they can. We will work for peace and justice. We will grow beyond our complacency.
Our prayers change us. Putting our hopes into words makes them more likely to come true. We
change the world by changing ourselves.
Closing Words
Nothing else matters much;
not wealth, nor learning nor even health,
without this gift:
the spiritual capacity to keep zest in our living.
This is the creed of creeds.
The final deposit and distillation of all
of humanity's important faiths:
That we should be able to believe in life.
Harry Emerson Fosdick
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