Anthony Bloom

It happened that while Jesus was praying in a certain place, when He had finished, one of His disciples said to Him, “Lord, teach us to pray, just as John also taught his disciples.”  Luke 11:1  NASB

To pray – We’ve heard it before.  “A man’s prayer is answered when he stakes his life on it.”  “Prayer is too dangerous to be done alone.”  “Prayer is spiritual ecstasy.”  “To live without prayer is to live without God.”

Prayer is such a confusing topic.  No, “topic” isn’t the right word.  It’s not a “topic” like, say, a discussion of political issues in Ukraine.  Prayer isn’t a “discussion.”  It’s an action, a deeply personal, sometimes communal, involvement with God.  But it’s not like a festival or a ritual.  It’s more.  It’s intimate communication.  At least, that’s what we hope it will be.  Even if we read the prayers already constructed for us, like the prayers in the Siddur, they aren’t to be merely recited.  They are to pour from our souls, tremble on our lips, gush from our hearts.  Otherwise, it’s just words.  Just more religious platitudes.  Certainly the disciples knew how to pray, or perhaps we should say, “They knew prayers.”  So do we.  But knowing the words isn’t the same, is it?  Prayer isn’t just words—and it isn’t just activity either.  It’s more like a bridge between us and God; a bridge where we hope to meet the Creator in the middle, but which often appears to have no real fixed points at either end.  Maybe the disciples voiced a feeling that we also have—that feeling that we’re not quite sure how this works or what to do.  Like being somewhere on the bridge in the midst of a thick fog.  Archbishop Anthony Bloom captures some of this discomfort:

“The realm of God is dangerous.  You must enter into it and not just seek information about it.”[1]

“In a way, despair is at the centre of things—if only we are prepared to go through it.  We must prepare for a period when God is not there for us and we must be aware of not trying to substitute a false God.”[2]

“The day when God is absent, when He is silent—that is the beginning of prayer.  Not when we have a lot to say, but when we say to God, ‘I can’t live without You, why are You so cruel, so silent?’”[3]

“And there is that time when there is a longing in the heart for God Himself, not for His gifts, but for God Himself.  There is a sadness in the eyes that grow deep and look to infinity, often in the midst of fulfillment and happiness.  There is a longing for home, but a home that has no geography, home where there is love, depth and life.”[4]

I have a long way to go.

Topical Index: prayer, Luke 11:1

[1] Anthony Bloom, Beginning to Pray, p. 15.

[2] Ibid., p. 17.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid., pp, 17-18.