In the May Quest Discussion Forum our minister for lifespan learning, Lynn Ungar posed the following question:
In her sermon “To Pray or Not to Pray” our senior minister, Jane Rzepka, suggests that there are two traditionally UU approaches to prayer.
One is to regard all spiritually fulfilling activities as prayer. The other is to simply disregard the category of prayer, while still doing spiritually fulfilling activities. Although she doesn’t discuss it, it is true that prayer in a more traditional sense—words addressed to the Ulitmate—is also well within the UU tradition. What does prayer mean to you? Do you pray, and if so, how?
Here are excerpts from some of the responses:
I believe that, as children, much of what we learn is more caught than taught.
I recall hearing my mother often saying, “Thank you, dear God” when something favorably important happened; or “Please, God” when something was hoped for. Therefore, I find myself doing the same from time to time. I often feel as if life itself is prayer actually lived, especially now that I am older and time is no longer pressured with a myriad of varied, daily responsibilities. It is quite natural to be thankful for another day and thus to offer up silent or quiet words of appreciation which might be considered prayer. Most importantly, as a UU, I refrain from petition prayers, other than for the strength or wherewithal to carry out whatever needs doing of which I am aware. I am ever mindful that we have been gifted with brains and the abilities to carry out responsibilities and that it is our duty to fulfill such action in a sensible, good-natured manner. Intercessionary thoughts on behalf of the welfare of others may also be considered prayer. I prefer to refer to such reaching out as being an extension of “positive thoughts” rather than referring to it as “prayer.” —Irene M., Arizona
Just a few days ago I was at a cancer center having post treatment diagnostic mammograms. It had been one year since diagnosis of triple negative breast cancer, a rather aggressive form of breast cancer. The technician had me wait until my scans were read by the doctor just in case we needed to proceed on to another level. Well, when the technician returned and said, “You are clear!” my response—as Irene says, one that I caught more so than was taught—was, “Thank God!” I surprised myself because I do not view the divine as an entity that hands out blessings or curses. My response to being told I was cancer free was one of relief. Do I pray? Yes. My prayer is not formal and is not well thought out, not planned. My prayer is an inner thinking process of going within my own intelligence, my own mind and seeking peace. Sometimes prayer for me is meditating on breathing, it is gazing at a sunrise or sunset, it is inhaling the perfumes of nature. —Carol D., California
For me prayer is a meditative or hypnotic state of mind in which I relax my body and that most supreme of organs in the human body, the brain. Using meditation/hypnotism, all parts of the brain begin to work comfortably in unison and the world appears as a wonderful place to be and people become individuals doing the best they can with what they have. When trouble (mental anguish) rears its head, I try to meditate/self hypnotize and allow myself to rest in the eye of the storm. Once I have done that, I usually have a question that requires a response from those more experienced than I so that I can resolve an internal conflict regarding the situation.
I suppose we can also view prayer as an unspoken sense of inner-most communion with the world that is seen and the world that is unseen. Viewed that way, the celebration of art, music and natural beauty is itself a form of such unspoken inner-dialogue. Things left unsaid—concepts incapable of articulation—those are the form of prayer that I found to be most powerful. They can bring you to your knees, bring you to tears, and enliven/enrich your life in ways too numerous to count. Some things are better left unsaid and
uncounted. —Tom G., Wisconsin
Sometimes I still catch myself, after lying down to sleep at night, whispering a petitionary prayer to an unseen deity up there somewhere. After a few seconds, when I realize what I’m doing, I start chuckling to myself. (I’m sure my spouse thinks I’m going nuts.)
On reflection, I’ve realized that even when I think I’m praying to some Supreme Being, I’m really just praying to myself or silently talking my way through a certain situation or decision to be made. My habit of private prayer addressed to a God out there is simply a leftover from my upbringing—it’s a ritual I learned, and one I am in the process of re-interpreting.
I really like the Buddhist greeting/salutation “Namaste” in relation to the idea of prayer as a lifestyle: “The divinity in me recognizes the divinity in you.” I find myself more and more praying as a way of life, in recognition of the sacred around me, rather than addressing some independent Other. —Daniel P., Nova Scotia
Prayer is sharing joys and concerns. Some call it prayer only when sharing these with a supernatural/ ultimate/ body-less entity. Right! For me, it is also prayer when sharing the joy or concern by public testimony in front of congregations, phoning or emailing one’s friends, whispering into my dog’s ear, writing a letter to the editor, writing on a blog, writing in a journal for a future reader (maybe a
grandchild) to read. —Kay L., Arizona
I am currently one of those who wrinkles his nose at the word “spiritual.” I am in good company, since Emerson wrote: “The definition of spiritual should be, that which is its own evidence.” An awful lot of the talk about spirit, love, and religion is no more than that—talk.
At the same time, I pray and I worship, and I need organized religion to help me cope with the nihilism of power and merchandising. Emerson’s “that which is its own evidence” is one of the most inspirationally provocative concepts I have ever encountered. Since it cannot be reduced to anything else, however, it cannot be used for anything else, even to argue about or just talk about. It is.
It is no wonder that Emerson’s insight (and it is just a variation on the Old Testament warnings about idolatry) gets little attention. So “spiritual” needs to be talked about. But don’t expect it to be easy. —Rexford S., California
This discussion reminded me of an article by Christine Robinson, “Imagineers of Soul,” in the Spring 2009 UU World. She writes of how Unitarian Universalists can shy away from spirituality and scorn it when they hear about spirituality in others.
Ms. Robinson suggests that this scorn comes from being “shamed” for questioning the faith statements of religions from which we came. I feel some sense of shame in the comments we have made...to come out and say, “Yes, I pray. Yes, I talk with God.” And why shame? Because I assume that people will assume that I believe in a god with ears!
I don't believe in a god with ears, but the language that I use...talking, listening...is the only language I have. There is a uniting spirit in which I believe; articulation of that belief is difficult. I'm working on expanding my
language. —Elisabeth B., Connecticut
My spiritual practice is to pray or meditate, setting aside time outside of my “daily activities,” when I sit down (or move in deliberate ways) to focus on the Great Mystery at the Heart of Life. Many of us call this God. For others the great mystery has other names or none at all. The prayer or meditation may focus inward or outward; the object of the prayer may be personal or cosmically impersonal. But in any case the prayer or meditation is a consciously undertaken practice which can motivate and nourish my daily activities. I’m probably in the minority among us, but I personally need this for my own spiritual life. —Karen F., Maine
I agree that “God as puppeteer” is a concept well left behind, and I also feel that many activities can be forms of prayer. At the same time, I feel that there are, inevitably, some issues regarding prayer that need a little more attention.
I believe that we not only need to listen to God through the patterns of being and life, but to speak to God. Here, it seems to me, it is important not to become discouraged because God is not our father, mother, friend, or something of that kind. God does not need to be like us in order to receive our prayers. However, the awareness that we are addressing the Spirit of the Universe rather than “Big Dad” may lead us to make deeper prayers; we may pray not that a loved one be miraculously cured, but that all concerned with that person open themselves to the lessons of life, death, mourning, and consolation. To put the idea into a few words: to continue to pray is to cultivate emotional and spiritual maturity.
I have found that one of the best ways to cultivate that sort of maturity is to accept its cultivation as a life-long effort and to act accordingly. In my case, I do a bit of spiritual reading, and have made a small altar for personal use. I attempt to make prayer of various kinds a regular part of my life, not something that I do only in moments of need or as I am engaged in another activity. I change my readings, prayers and blessings, I rearrange my altar, I throw out the burned candles and wilted flowers, and I try to stay focused on the One that includes and is greater than all. —Erik F., California
