Throughout
Christian history, there have been two major traditions of prayer: kataphatic and apophatic. Big words, I know. However, most of us were raised in the kataphatic tradition of prayer, that is,
the use of words, thoughts, and symbols
in the practice of prayer. It was only in seminary that I was introduced to
the concept of apophatic prayer,
namely, prayer without the use of words,
thoughts, and symbols, or prayer of
the heart, as the Eastern Orthodox have called it. Such prayer, based on
the incomprehensibleness of God, includes renouncing our tendency to control or
define God on human terms and the acknowledgement that we can do nothing
without him. However, I could not grasp how this kind of prayer was even
possible, let alone relevant, as I had grown up in a ministry orientation with
a bias towards activity. To me, success, often misidentified as “fruitfulness,”
was attributed to the result of zeal and hard work. In this orientation,
spirituality was equated with “doing,” rather than “being.” Because kataphatic
prayer fit well with this ministry orientation, “prayer” became just another
aspect of “doing” for me. If I prayed well and long enough, I believed that
this would lead me into “fruitfulness” as defined above. It seemed like
apophatic prayer would lead me in the opposite direction, as to empty my mind
of all thoughts seemed like a wasting of valuable time.
The title of
Thomas Keating’s classic book, Open
Heart, Open Mind,[1]
provides a summary description for apophatic prayer or “centering prayer” as he
calls it. Rather than trying to lift one’s heart and mind to God in prayer,
centering prayer is an act of letting go
in trust and surrender. It requires the placing of a person’s mind and heart in
a posture of receptivity. In my kataphatic tradition, the focus of prayer still
seemed to be on my efforts. This is
not entirely wrong in itself; for example, Jesus said, “Ask… and you will
receive,” but I was out of balance. In this vein, Keating introduced centering
prayer to me not as antithetical to my kataphatic tradition, but as complementary.
Indeed, Keating’s involvement in the Catholic Charismatic tradition affirmed
the kinds of prayer I had practiced much of my life. However, Keating argues
strongly that without the apophatic tradition, the Charismatic movement would
wither. He, along with Henri Nouwen in his book, The Way of the Heart,[2] attribute
the loss of the apophatic tradition in western Christianity to the
“anti-contemplative climate” of the enlightenment era where the mind was
exalted to an undue degree. Nouwen likens the recovery of centering prayer to
the monastic movement of the early Christian centuries where the desert fathers
and mothers had to flee from the “compulsive socialization”[3] of
their society in order to know who they really were. Similarly, my lack of
contemplation results in me being more enamoured with “selfies” and “Instagram
photos” of life, rather than simply enjoying real life for itself. I’ve
sometimes fought the tendency in ministry where the world becomes a stage. In contrast, centering prayer, through
solitude and silence, has provided a “portable cell,” that is, a way of escape from
this stage and a means for me to die to the false selves that tend to
emerge.
SO HOW DO WE
PRACTICE CENTERING PRAYER?
Keating’s
introduction to the actual practice of centering prayer is most helpful because
he provides practical advice that can help us overcome the common
discouragements that occur when embarking on this kind of prayer. What I have
regarded as my “wandering mind,” he describes as a “stream of consciousness,”
that is, a constant flow of thoughts that are passing through my mind that I
have little control over. He likens them to “boats” that are floating by me as
I stand on the bank of a river. For example, today at our East Van Ministerial, there was
some light construction going on in the same room where we were meeting. I had
to work hard to focus on the speaker with the sounds of hammering and sawing in the background. Every time I heard a new sound, it was tempting to be distracted. I
have often passed the whole time of centering prayer with my imagination moving
from one scenario to another. These scenarios have included: grappling with an issue or problem, planning
for events, thinking of details such as calls I need to make or people I need
to see, or imagining a good sermon illustration, and so on. It was tempting for
me to have a pen and paper in hand because it seemed I could get some good
planning done while trying to practice centering prayer!
To help me
return to the “unknowing” loving adoration of God in my heart when I became aware that my
mind was wandering, Keating encouraged me to employ the use of a “sacred word”
that I return to. I have found that this return by means of the sacred word at
these moments involves a profound act of surrender and letting go of my need to
control. It has required a volitional choice for me that has been surprisingly
difficult due to the “delicious” nature of the distractions. Wonderful
theological insights can come that can “bait” me away from my loving attention
to God. I may even feel that I need to pray for someone even though this is not
the time for it. One of the most difficult struggles I have had is something
which seems “all important” may come to my mind that I need to attend to
accompanied by the fear that I will forget to attend to it. Then, there are
“glamourous problem solving thoughts!” Keating likens these distractions to the
temptation to “climb on board a flashy boat on the river and have a look
around,” rather than allowing the boat to pass by. I am learning that these
distractions are simply expressions of my false self, propped up by an instinct
to possess or control. I have often finished my prayer time feeling that I have
wasted the whole 20 minutes in daydreaming. However, even here, Keating
encourages loving self-acceptance, which is in itself another act of surrender
from my need to perform well in spiritual practices. Even if those moments of
being free from my thoughts seem few and far between, I am learning to enjoy
them “like a balloon gently landing” and then bouncing again.
I am finding
that the practice of centering prayer is having an impact on my whole life. I
am feeling more quiet and present to the moment. With less effort, my heart is
feeling more surrendered to God in loving adoration. I am feeling a deeper
peace even amidst the greatest times of stress when everything that can go
wrong, does go wrong. Anger, reaction, and frustration are loosening their
tentacles around my heart as I surrender to the loving and unearned embrace of
God, an embrace that has always been there for everyone, but was often
unperceived by me.
None of us
have time for this practice. We have to make time. May I encourage you to flee
from the compulsions of our culture through this rich
tradition that goes back to the desert fathers and mothers. Keating has posted this centering
prayer summary link with instructions on how to get started. As you do, may you be filled with all the blessings of this holy week.
[1] Keating,
Thomas, Open Heart Open Mind: The Contemplative
Dimension of the Gospel, Continuum International Publishing, Inc., New
York, NY, 2002.
[2] Nouwen,
Henri J.M., The Way of the Heart: Connecting
With God Through Prayer, Wisdom, and Silence, Ballantine, Toronto, 1981.
[3] Thomas
Merton, quoted by Nouwen in The Way of
the Heart
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