Praying for Prayer

Last year I was given the great privilege of doing a 30-day retreat, the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.  I left my people and parish of Saint Juan Diego for seven weeks.  On the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, at the Eastern Point Jesuit Retreat Center near Gloucester, Massachusetts, my fellow retreatants and I prayed four or five hours a day in grand silence.  Our only daily responsibilities were to attend Mass and meet with our spiritual director.  I ate healthy food, walked an hour each day along the coast, journaled, did cross stitch, and awoke at 4:30 each morning without an alarm refreshed and renewed.

The days were glorious!  Not just because of the warm weather, or the hospitality of the retreat house staff, or the attentive and wise listening of my director, or watching the sunrise colors every morning over the ocean, but especially because of the freedom to “waste time” talking with God and listening to God and his son Jesus.        

Then I returned to the parish, and real life happened.

It is an irony often remarked upon by Christian ministers that we who lead the prayers of the public assembly are often the ones who pray the least in private.  Like Martha we are too often busy and worried about many things (Luke 10:41).  As I come to the end of the first month in my new responsibility here in New Castle, I acutely feel the imbalance in how I use the hours of the day.   My “to do” list grows longer, the unpacked boxes in my sitting room remain unpacked, messages and questions are thrown at me from all sides—and I plan and execute too little time to pray.

Part of the problem is simple new-ness.  It takes asking lots of questions to begin to get a handle on the past achievements, the present problems, and the future hopes of not one, but two, distinct faith communities.  My offices are only beginning to take shape.  I don’t have the Mass schedules memorized yet.  I’m meeting new parishioners at every turn.  Plans for the future collide with the pastoral needs of this moment.

Good daily prayer is born of routine.  The liturgy of the hours is a ritual which allows one to see the possibilities of holiness in disparate events.  In its absence, prayer becomes catch-as-catch-can.  When there is little or no sameness in the schedule of a day, personal prayer gets pushed to the margins, if done at all.  Something resembling routine is off in the future for me.

My expectations for my prayer have also gone up.  It’s not enough just to “do prayers,” or recite rote formulas.  Over the years I have grown to love silence with the Lord.  In that silence I can pray the brievary, or mediate on a Scripture reading, even think up ideas for my blog!—and sometimes just be, patiently waiting to hear the gentle, loving voice of the Lord.   This desire for silence, sustained and intense, jumped exponentially after the joys of last summer’s 30 day retreat. 

I am blessed however to have a quiet residence.  St. Vitus Parish is a busy place, with lots of activities and meetings.  The campus of St. Vincent de Paul, where I live, resembles a retreat center.  It even has grass and trees and statues on its grounds. 

The desire for prayer is one I hear almost every day from parishioners.  Their lives are just as busy as mine.  They too desire a quiet place, if only for a quarter hour, to converse with God. 

There are no “magic bullets,” for priests or for the Christian faithful, to establish a balance of work and prayer in our lives.  The phrase which comes to mind is, the only way out is through.  Failure is an option.  So is picking yourself up and trying again.