The purpose of all the prayers we say
is to form a habit
of prayer so that we are praying all the time.

Prayer

By Leonard A. Kennedy

Prayer is very important, perhaps all-important, in the life of a Catholic. A simple definition of prayer is “conversation with God.” And we should remember that conversation is a two-way affair, speaking and listening. So prayer is not just talking to God; it is also listening to God. That’s something we should remember because what we say to God is important, but what God says to us is more important.

Of course God doesn’t speak to us with a human voice. We don’t hear anything with our ears. But what he does is communicate a message to us by influencing our ideas, by strengthening our convictions, by gradually making our minds like the mind of Christ. And he wants us to give him time to do this. Of course it doesn’t take God any time; it’s just that we are such that we develop slowly. It’s the same with a conversation with another human being. Some people talk all the time and we don’t have a chance to tell them something, even though it’s important for them. And, if they do give us a bit of an opening, they might not let us speak long enough to make our point.

Now, we as Catholics are fortunate that we have many different good ways of praying. We have liturgical prayer, such as the Mass, the Sacraments, and the Office which the priest, and many religious, say every day for the faithful whom they serve, and which some lay people say also. We have other public prayers which are not, strictly speaking, liturgical, such as Benediction or church novenas. And we have a multiplicity of private prayers. Some we say with a few other people such as our family or perhaps the Catholic Women’s League or a parish Rosary group. Some we say by ourselves. Some of these last prayers are formal if we use a prayer-book or if we recite prayers by heart. And some are informal if we pray without set formulas. We can pray spontaneously or we can simply pay attention to God without using any words at all. One of the best forms of prayer is to take the New Testament and read just a little bit and very slowly; God speaks to us so powerfully through the words of Scripture.

Now, as we know, some of these prayers are more important or more efficacious than others. For example, the Mass is the most important of all prayers, first because it’s more than a prayer, being also a sacrifice, and secondly because it was established by Christ. And, most importantly, because Christ is truly present, body and blood, soul and divinity, praying with us. And we know that group prayer is often better than private prayer since, though God is present every time we pray, he has said, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” And certainly family prayer is highly recommended. And prayers said in church are especially recommended also, since Jesus said, “My house is a house of prayer.” And, besides, there’s the real presence there of Jesus in the tabernacle. But, of course, all prayers are good.

During the Second World War there was a captain of a ship who was admired by his crew, and especially by his First Mate. And the First Mate noticed that, the first thing every morning when the captain came to his office, he went to his desk, unlocked the drawer, took out a piece of paper, read it, then put it back in the drawer and locked the drawer. And the First Mate decided that, when he could get a chance, he would see what was written on that piece of paper. When his chance came, he unlocked the drawer and read on the paper these words: “Port is on the left side of the ship, and starboard on the right.” Now, that’s the kind of knowledge we deal with when we talk about prayer: elementary, but most important.
One aspect of prayer which should be stressed is that there is one form of private prayer which is extremely important but which Catholics often do not realize how important it is, even though they might use it a lot. And this is silent prayer. Actually, it’s the best form of all our private prayers. There are special names for it; it’s called mental prayer, or contemplation, or the prayer of quiet.

The Catholic Church has chosen about forty saints especially known for the theology which they wrote or preached, and has named them Doctors of the Church. Two of them, from sixteenth-century Spain, are particularly noted for emphasizing contemplation: St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila, both Carmelites. They were what we call mystics. A mystic is someone who communes with God without words or pictures, just thinks of God and listens to him. Now, we can listen to God even though there are no sounds. If we close our eyes now and think of God without any words or pictures, he’ll speak to us. What does he say? Well, he says different things to different people at different times. He might say: “I am here listening to you. I will help you. You’re having problems, I know. But everything will work out all right. Just trust me. I’d like you to do this, or I’d like you to do that.”

Now, St. John and St. Teresa were great saints. They cooperated with God’s grace to a high degree. And God gave them special visions of himself. So they were very special mystics, but many of us are called to be at least ordinary mystics, that is, to practice contemplation if God gives us the gift. It’s the highest form of private personal prayer. Of course, in practice we use many kinds of prayer at the same time. We may read a prayer, then make up our own prayer, and then try to pray to God without words. So contemplation would not be our only type of prayer, but it’s the type which we should strive for if God gives us that gift. Another Doctor of the Church, St. Francis de Sales, in seventeenth-century France, wrote this: “If you have the gift for mental prayer, always reserve for it the principal place above private vocal prayers. The chief exercise of prayer is to speak to God and to hear God speak in the bottom of your heart.”

Now, God not only speaks to us in the bottom of our heart but also speaks for us in the bottom of our heart. We tend to think that in our prayer we are the ones who are doing all the action. We don’t realize that we are not the chief ones praying; it is the Holy Spirit within us who takes the chief part in our prayer. St. Paul wrote (Rom: 8:26): “The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness. We do not even know how we ought to pray, but through our inarticulate groans the Spirit himself is pleading for us, and God, who searches our inmost being, knows what the Spirit means, because he pleads for God’s people as God himself wills.”

As we consider how many different ways of praying we have, we ask ourselves: “Which ones will I use?” The answer is that we should use the ones that are easiest for us, the ones that best suit our temperament, the ones we think do us the most good. Of course we have to go to Mass on Sundays and holydays but, apart from that, we should contact God in whatever way we can do it best. We might well find that this changes from time to time, perhaps from year to year. And we should change with our changing needs. We need God and we have to have personal contact with him. And different people make that contact in different ways. Every way is good, but the one we find easiest at a given time is the best for us. Dom Chapman, in our own century, wrote: “Pray as you can, and do not try to pray as you can’t.”

Someone might say, I thought you said that contemplation is the highest and best kind of private personal prayer. Why should I not aim at this all the time?” The answer is that some people find it harder to contemplate than others do, at least at certain times. It is unwise to try to contemplate when it isn’t working for us. What we should do is to try another approach, and see what is easier, what is better, for us. If we want to play a musical instrument and find that violin is too hard for us, but piano is easy, we should choose the piano.

The same is true of the times at which to pray. Some times in our day or our week are more conducive to prayer. We should pray at the times that are easiest for us. We have different schedules and find it easier to pray at times that are different from those of others. The important thing is that we pray. However, we know that some times, in general, are easier than others because they become habitual more readily. First thing in the morning, last thing at night, whenever we eat a meal, it’s easy to make prayer-times of all of these. Some families pray together after supper.

And where should we pray? It’s good to pray in church, it’s good to pray with others, but, whatever we do, we have to find a place where we can pray regularly each day. I knew a man who was a milkman in the days when milkmen used to go around to the houses. He was offered an office job with higher pay but he refused it because, as he said, he found it so easy to pray while he was making his rounds. At some point we have to make a decision. Am I praying enough? If not, should I not set aside a time and a place? I know a couple who get up two hours before their children every morning so that they’ll have time to pray. We shouldn’t drift; we have to have a time and a place.

Why should we pray? First of all, because we’re creatures. Since we are creatures, it befits us to adore God, to thank him for his gifts, to ask him for what we need, and to ask his forgiveness for our sins. We have to pray for these four reasons, but first of all for the first reason: because God is to be adored. Baron von Hügel, who lived in England in the early years of this century, wrote this: “The most fundamental need, duty, honor, and happiness, is not petition, nor even contrition, nor again thanksgiving, but adoration.” First things first.

I would like to say something about petition. We need so many things. We need things for ourselves: peace of mind, health, healing, and so on. And, of course, there are lots of other intentions, for our friends, for our loved ones who have died, for an end to abortion, for the Souls in Purgatory, for the poor people rendered homeless by war in Kosovo or East Timor, and for those enslaved in the Sudan, for those persecuted for their faith, in China, in Pakistan, and, indeed, in many countries. Every night on the news we see some new suffering somewhere in the world. We don’t pray just for ourselves. We might quote two more doctors of the Church. In the third century St. Cyprian of Carthage wrote: “We don’t say my Father, but our Father; neither do we say give me but give us.” And in the sixth century Pope St. Gregory wrote: “A person causes his prayers to be of most avail to himself when he offers them also for others.” So we get more out of prayer if we pray for others than if we pray just for ourselves.

The English poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, though his religion was not Catholic, realized the importance of prayer, even prayer for others. In his poem The Death of King Arthur he has Arthur say, as he lay dying: “Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats if, knowing God, they lift not hands in prayer both for themselves and those who call them friend?”

God knows what we need. But he wants us to ask for these things because it makes us humble, it makes us grateful. If we aren’t humble and grateful we’re proud and ungrateful, and, even for human beings, pride and ingratitude are hateful things. God doesn’t want us to be like that. We might quote perhaps the greatest Doctor of the Church, St. Thomas Aquinas, who died in 1274: “It is not necessary for us to set forth our petitions before God in order to make known to him our needs and desires,” he says, “but rather that we ourselves may realize that in these things it is necessary to have recourse to divine assistance.”

It’s important to realize that every single prayer is answered. Our Lord said, “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy-burdened, and I will give you rest.” “The one who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” We also have the words of the well-known prayer to the Blessed Virgin which is now five hundred years old, “Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was ever left unaided.” And this prayer is highly recommended by the Church.

We know however that God doesn’t always answer our prayers right away. But, when he delays, it’s always for a reason. Waiting for God to answer us can make us more humble, it can make us more patient, it can make us eventually more grateful. St. Monica prayed for twenty years for the conversion of her son, St. Augustine, and her prayers made her a saint. And they were also answered by Augustine’s conversion. Our Lord said, “If you ask the Father anything in my name, he will give it to you.”

But God, though he answers every one of our prayers, doesn’t always give us exactly what we pray for. St. Prosper of Aquitaine, in the fifth century wrote: “The one who asks of God, in faith, things needful for this life is sometimes mercifully heard and sometimes mercifully not heard. For the Physician knows better than the patient what will avail for the sick man.” However, if God doesn’t answer our prayers in the way we ask him to, he answers them in a better way. Perhaps he doesn’t give us a temporal good but rather an eternal good. Many people go to Lourdes to have their bodies cured and they return home uncured in body but with resignation and peace in their hearts. Good parents don’t always give children exactly what they ask for, but they do give them what is good for them. Each day St. Thomas More, the English sixteenth-century martyr, thanked God for the good things he had given him, and then he thanked God for the good things he had not given him. Not everything that is good is good for us. Not everything we want is good for us.

Prayer is sometimes enjoyable, but we don’t pray because it is enjoyable; we pray because we are creatures. And often prayer is difficult. We begin to think of all kinds of other things. Yet our prayer is better when it’s difficult, just as our going to Mass on a rainy morning is more pleasing to God than our going in nice weather. It shows greater love.

We mustn’t let distractions and dryness stop us praying. They’re the testing-ground of our love of God. We must pray despite them. If God sends us joy in prayer, fine. But if we find dryness instead, we should accept that too. It is better to pray in dryness than in joy, if that’s what God wants. Of course we should do our best to avoid distractions or tiredness, perhaps by praying in a place and a time that’s more conducive to prayer, or at a time when we’re more wide-awake. We shouldn’t hesitate about giving God prime time.

Many of the great saints were victim souls. God asked them to suffer out of love of him for the salvation of many other people. In the last few years the Pope canonized or beatified two young women who prayed to God despite great suffering. They both were nuns, and died in their thirties. Saint Faustina Kowalska, of Poland, who died in Poland in the 1930s, saw Purgatory and knew that she was saving many souls from hell and helping many to get from Purgatory to heaven. Blessed Dina Belanger, who died in Canada, in Quebec City, in the 1930s, saw the souls that she was saving from hell. To pray in the midst of difficulties is one of the best things we can do. We don’t pray because we like it. If God sends us consolations, all well and good. But we pray because we need it.

Those who try to pray soon realize that they cannot pray unless they are living the life that God wants. If they do not live as they should, they will stop praying. If they keep up their prayer, they will live as they should, even though they are not doing so at first. It may take a while, but one or the other has to go. And, once prayer goes, what hope is left? It is our only lifeline, our only way to go to God. As long as we have the lifeline we’ll be all right. When we let go, we lose our contact with God. Fortunately this lifeline can be found again, with effort, if it is lost; but there is no other lifeline. We could also call prayer our ladder to God; if we throw away the ladder we can’t reach him. Or we could call prayer the muscles of our spiritual system. If our bodily muscles don’t get regular exercise they become flabby and weak. And, if we don’t pray regularly, we become spiritually flabby and weak.

Why is it that we can’t go on for very long praying and at the same time offending God? It is because we keep realizing that there is something God wants us to stop doing. The more we pray the more we realize what God wants us to do. And that disturbs us. So we either do what God wants us to do or we stop praying.

The purpose of all the prayers we say is to form a habit of prayer so that we’re praying all the time. This is what Christ wants. You remember, he told the Apostles: “Pray always.” It is possible to have God in our minds during all our waking moments, to be aware of him all the time, to refer everything to him. It’s like happily-married people. They are always in communion with one another. If something comes up, they wonder what the other person would think. If something happens to them, they want to tell their spouse about it. We can be like that with God. We can commune with him all the time. And then all the prayers we say can reinforce that constant communion, since any communion of minds seeks to have constant reinforcement. St. Paul wrote, “Pray all the time, asking for what you need, praying in the spirit on every possible occasion (Eph. 6:18).

Very often we’re quite busy and it’s not possible to think about God explicitly, but there are many times when we can do so in an informal way, when we’re taking a walk or driving a car by ourselves, or just spending a quiet hour thinking.

So I would recommend to you, before you go to bed tonight, that you take a piece of paper and write on it a very simple but very important message: “Prayer is my lifeline. If I persevere in it I will be saved.” And put the paper in a drawer and, first thing every morning, take it out and read it. 

Rev. Leonard A. Kennedy, Ph.D., a member of the Congregation of St. Basil, is a retired professor of philosophy living in Toronto, Canada. He was President of Assumption University (Windsor, Ontario) and of St. Thomas More College (Saskatoon, Saskatchewan), and the Director of the Center for Thomistic Studies (University of St. Thomas, Houston). He is a Contributing Editor of Catholic Insight and a regular contributor to Challenge, two Canadian Catholic monthly publications.