Category: prayer

Momisa asked about how one might best use the Daily Prayer link, given that the liturgy is designed to involve more than one person, but on-line, most of us are on our own.

So, what follows is a very idiosyncratic telling. The short answer is: you do what works for you. But here’s what works for me.

Morning and Evening Prayer are designed as public worship. So, they are set out assuming a fair bit of call (plain text) and response (bold). When I was a curate, my training rector taught me to always say the office out loud — even if I was alone in the church. I found saying the office aloud fine if I really was alone (though never particularly helpful) but painfully difficult as the early stragglers came in for the pending eucharist.

When I am saying the office at home, I rarely say it out loud — except for Compline, of course, which I invariably sing.

So, how to read it without rushing, and without losing a sense of the dialogue that is intrinsic…

First you have to play a mental game. You are never really alone with Daily Prayer. That is the point. It is being said all over the place all the time. Lots of people have said this office or something very like it already today, and others will follow. So, even at your desk by yourself, you are joining in. And that is before we consider ‘angels, archangels and the whole company of heaven.’

Next, you need to suspend normal computer habits. No skimming, no rushing, no multi-tasking.

For the first part of the office, including the opening dialogues and the first section or two of psalms (I’m deliberately avoiding technical labels here. Go with it…), I use the printed words as a sort of breath prayer. So, what that means is, I read the first line as in inhale — then finish most of the business of inhaling after the words are done. Then I begin the second line once my breath pauses, exhaling fully as the line ends.

This automatically slows you down, and helps establish the rhythm that would come of speaking aloud in unison.

breath wise, it feels like in — pause — out — pause, with the words happening in a barely breathing mode.

Now, trust me on this: you do not want to think about that as much as I just have. Just try and see what happens.

Once I get to the psalm, things might change. Continue reading “solo” →

Today was supposed to have been a snow day.  Or at least a wind day.  Each time the weather turned bad, I sighed in relief.  The goal — having canceled all meetings in Rothesay– was to have a retreat day:  prayer, bible reading, reflection.  When weather gives me a day, I try to take the gift and not let it be lost beneath the usual to-do list.

That was the theory.  But I did bits and pieces till 1pm.  By then, the desire to pray was compelling.  But after an hour, and a bit of lunch, I had to make a decision:  Luke’s gospel, or tonight’s bookgroup book (I’d planned to read it on the train to Edinburgh on Wednesday, and then unexpectedly had to drive.)  Maybe we will cancel the book group, though I.  Prayer and scripture, no guilt.  But alas, the weather is behaving ridiculously well, and no matter how much I hope for the ice to set in, we have sun and blue skies.

So, here is the dilemma.

If any member of the congregation came to me saying ‘I feel strongly compelled to pray and read scripture today, and I don’t want to lose the opportunity’  I would say without hesitation:  then do it.  Skip the book group.  Pray when you can.

But at the same time, I feel that to make that choice myself (read Luke now, not Birdsong.  Pray through the evening, skip the meeting) would be abdication of duty.

I still don’t know what I will do.  It feels selfish not to go to the group, and it feels crazy to be thinking of reading a novel when the desire for prayer is so strong.

It’s a funny job, this.

I’ve returned to Benedict this week: always the best guide when trying to balance life.

Ester de Waal mentions a prayer at Benedict’s shrine at Fleury, which begins:

today we see the person ‘qui est sorti de sa maison et qui a perdu la clé pour y entrer. Benoît, ton message est une invitation a l’interiorité. Ton expérience est celle de l’homme regagné a lui-même. Benoît, apprend-nous le retour au coeur.’

de Waal laments the fact that the French is richer, then offers us a translation no better than this:

Today, we are far from home and have lost the key to the door. But you call us to go in and find ourselves again. It is an invitation to interiority. Your experience is that of a person who regains their sense of themselves. Benedict, teach us the return to the heart.

Ester de Waal
A Life-Giving Way

Now, is the French really as much lovelier as it seems, or is my poor French allowing me to read into it what I wish?

It is hard to name the difference (différance?) yet one is enticing, and the other feels awkward and dull.

How do we dare read scripture in translation?