This is Life!: Revolutions Around the Cruciform Axis

My Mother and I and Our Differences on Prayer

My mother and I have not seen eye-to-eye on matters religious since I began to search for the historic Church during my last two years at Bible college. She did not understand my fascination with monasticism and liturgy--which was probably due in large part to the fact that I tend not to share my inner thoughts readily until they are fully formed and ready to be defended. (Note to self: Bad habit in a marriage!)

So, ever since I was confirmed as an Episcopalian, and especially once my mom came to visit us shortly after I was confirmed, and saw my prayer-desk--with rosary, crucifix and prayerbook--in my office at home, we've sort of settled into a mutual "truce" of silence. She will occasionally respond obliquely to the few comments I make about various aspects of my faith in such a way as to offer a criticism of such views without coming out and explicitly saying, "That's not Christian" or "That's not in the Bible" or "That's not the faith we taught you."

Case in point: I had taken some video of the interior of our temple at All Saints, along with other video of Sofie and our apartment. When mom watched the video, I made some brief explanation as to what she was seeing: the nave, the icons and iconostasis, the altar, etc.. Her only comment: "Where's the baptistry?" I explained that Orthodox baptize by triple immersion and that, since most baptisms were of infants, the baptismal font was portable, brought in as needed. My further explanation that Orthodox also baptized adult converts who'd not been baptized previously seemed not to impress.

Which brings me to our phone conversation on Saturday. It was Mom's birthday, and I'd called to wish her "Many Years!" In comparing our New Year's Eve activities--we'd both celebrated with church families--she proceeded into what I took to be a sideways criticism of Orthodoxy via a skewering of Roman Catholicism by way of her formerly Catholic classmates who had converted recently in her Sunday School Group. She emphasized how many Catholics had recently joined--since they'd been excommunicated for divorces--and all of whom had been baptized (which is to say, re-baptized, but my mom would not think Roman baptism valid). And she also emphasized--and this brings me finally to the point of my post--how happy they were that they had at last finally learned how to pray, which is to say, extemporaneously, without set prayers.

I was struck by this. I know what my mom meant--not some eighteen years or more ago, I would have said something very similar. Mom noted that many of her Catholic classmates at church had never really felt as though they'd prayed until they learned to do so apart from liturgy and ritual prayer. That is to say, raised on liturgical and ritual prayer, the learning how to pray extemporaneously opened up for these classmates of my mom a new experience of worship and, one assumes, of God.

As I said, I know very much the sentiment my mom expressed to me. However, I now find myself at a very different place. It has been my experience that I never really knew how to pray until I learned to pray using someone else's words; specifically, the words of the Psalms and the Church's own prayers. More importantly, I did not learn to pray until I had memorized certain of those prayers again and again day after day, the words entering my mind and my heart. Indeed, only after doing so did I learn that I still have yet to learn how to pray. But I am more ready to learn than before.

Of course, I should also say that I also pray extemporaneously, even if that also means the memorized phrases of the Psalms and the liturgies of the Church form backbone and frame of such prayers. It is never an either/or, but always both/and.

My mom may not grasp what I mean, even were I to more openly express myself. But if she prays more often and more deeply than I do--and I have no evidence to suggest that she doesn't--then even with our differences, it is I who still have much more to learn about prayer than she.