Reaching for the Living Water Offered in Prayer

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The recent dry patch in my prayer life has received much-needed watering from the Catechism of the Catholic Church. It became apparent while reading it that my problems arise from my typical approach to prayer, which has been to perfunctory recite an Our Father before getting on with what I really want to say, which is a version of “Lord, the world would be so much better if you would do it my way.” Then I sit and listen to an unresponsive God, and walk away feeling that, if He isn’t going to listen to me, why should I pray?

The CCC points out the many flaws to this approach. For example, it highlights the reciprocal relationship of prayer: The Holy Spirit teaches us to pray in hope, and in return nourishes hope in us when we pray.

Because I frequently feel forsaken and hope seems absent from my life these days, what with all the earthquakes, famine, war and strife, I am going to focus on this particular theological virtue offered by the Paraclete.

Speaking of the Holy Spirit, the Catechism offers a wonderful image of the Holy Spirit as the interior master of Christian prayer. Isn’t it consoling to know that we have such a guide to our prayer?

“He is the artisan of the living tradition of prayer,” the CCC goes on. “To be sure, there are as many paths of prayer as there are persons who pray, but it is the same Spirit acting in all and with all.”

In other words, it doesn’t matter that you and I and everybody else each prays in our own particular way; the important thing is that we allow the Holy Spirit to act in us as we do so.

Toward this end, St. John Chrysostom offers an astute observation: “Whether or not our prayer is heard depends not on the number of words, but on the fervor of our souls.”

While each of us takes a different path to prayer, the CCC describes three “expressions” of prayer: vocal prayer, meditation and contemplation. Personally, I much prefer to pray alone and in silence, but the CCC points out that Jesus taught his disciples a vocal prayer that starts with the communal word “our.” Vocal prayer cannot be neglected, the CCC warns, because “prayer is internalized to the extent that we become aware of him ‘to whom we speak,’” – an image from St. Teresa of Jesus – and “[t]hus vocal prayer becomes an initial form of contemplative prayer.”

Reading this was an “ah-ha” moment, because except for the obligatory Our Father during my talks with God, I’ve ignored vocal prayer. Now, though, I will use it for a beginning of my meditation.

With meditation, at least, I think I’m headed in the right direction, because the CCC’s image of meditation as a quest resonates with me. I know from experience the truth of the statement that “We discover in meditation the moments that stir the heart and we are able to discern them.”

The third expression of prayer is contemplative, described by St. Teresa of Avila as “nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with him who we know loves us.”

Ah, yes, the fatal flaw in my prayer life, the failure to set aside time for God amid my busyness. Above all, my reading of the CCC emphasizes that I must make it a priority to keep watch with him even one hour, to set aside time when “I look at him and he looks at me,” as St. John Vianney said, and thereby receive the living water the Holy Spirit offers for my soul.

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic.