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| AGW Welcome | Events | The Witness Magazine |
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Life of Prayer Everyone is reporting the phenomenon. Since September 11th, church attendance has soared, the sale of books on prayer and spirituality has skyrocketed, and retreat centers are packed every weekend. I suppose it should not come as a surprise that, from the depths of the ashes and destruction of the World Trade Center and in the midst of this time of war, a religious renewal movement has been born. There is an old expression: "If your knees are trembling, kneel on them." In my own practice of spiritual direction, I find that my "soul friends" are bringing me more directed questions about prayer — not just the "how-to’s" but the why’s and the wherefores of prayer. Why do we pray what we pray? What does it do? To what end? How does prayer direct your life? What role does prayer play in your ministry?
More than anything else, the early childhood teachings of my grandmother gave shape and form to my prayer life. She was a devout Roman Catholic who instilled in me a love of the psalms from her breviary and the discipline of attendance at daily early morning mass. Her home was filled with little shrines everywhere: statues of saints, lovingly placed on a handmade doily, while a votive candle flickered before it in a silent petition of prayer. Her favorite saint was Gerard, patron of families, which was by far the busiest shrine. There were always several candles flickering in urgent petition for one of the fifteen children of her twenty who lived to adulthood. Occasionally, however, St. Gerard could be found facing the wall in the darkness, evidence that he had not satisfactorily responded to my grandmother’s prayer. When that happened, my grandmother would scold him sharply, blowing out the candle to punctuate her anger, and turn him to face the wall with the stern warning that he would remain there until the situation improved. I learned from my grandmother that prayer is, in part, a discipline of love and a commitment to faith. It is an on-going conversation with God that takes place in the midst of the community of saints who have gone on before, those who are here present, and those yet to come. Prayer involves expectation and mystery, hope and disappointment, and an attitude of wonder and awe that is sometimes humbled by pragmatics and reality. Prayer places one in close enough proximity to a sense of the absurd as to heal arrogance and promote a healthy sense of humor. Finally, prayer is both the wellspring of compassion and the spark of justice.
These lessons form and describe my prayer life that, in turn, shapes, defines, inspires and sustains the ministry to which I have been called. Parochial ministry and the work of justice and reconciliation are impossible for me without an on-going conversation with God in the midst of the community of saints. The early days of the AIDS pandemic brought me near to the abyss and close to the absurdities of life. What I learned, however, is that laughter in the face of an evil like AIDS is probably the one of the best statements of faith. Only a fool would laugh in the face of Evil without a firm belief in God. I am deeply indebted to my grandmother for the spiritual formation she provided which I am committed to passing on to the saints here present and those yet to come by the same gentle but lasting persuasion of example. Except for "the little shrines everywhere." I only have one or two. The Rev. Elizabeth Kaeton is a regular contributor to A Globe of Witnesses. Her monthly column is Another Word for Justice. Elizabeth may be reached by email at EMKaeton@aol.com
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