The desert monks went to the wilderness to seek God in constant prayer. They were following St. Paul's injunction to "pray always." There are different types of prayer, however, and one cannot constantly be engaged in liturgical or vocal or meditative prayer. The practicalities of life, and our human nature itself, demand that prayer and work alternate according to a living rhythm.
There is a kind of prayer that one may cultivate until it is almost constant. This prayer, or perhaps, readiness for prayer, is the awareness of God's life beyond and within his creatures. God's life reverberates in the words of Scripture, read in a spirit of prayer and awe. God's life vibrates in his creation which is ever new and overflowing with energy. God's life shines forth in the life and death of the Christ, who continues to live both in heaven and on earth in the person of his Church, of which we are members. God's life lives in us.
Yet, we forget this life. And our thoughts cover over the silence in which this awareness would flower. Perhaps that is why the desert monks grew to realize that their thoughts were the biggest obstacle to constant prayer. They grew vigilant over their thoughts, watching for them as if waiting for a fish to take the bait.
They watched their thoughts so that they could get behind them, not because they were so fascinating in themselves. Their thoughts, however useful and necessary for so many activities, kept getting in the way of their prayer. Perhaps it is best when words and prayer are consonant, but this is not always guaranteed.
The desert monks glimpsed God beyond their thoughts, and thus knew that God was not their conceptions of him. God was more than their thoughts. In fact, I am more than my thoughts; you are more than your thoughts. The world is more than our thoughts. Even thoughts are more than thoughts, right?
The desert monks hoped to grow more constantly aware, not of their thoughts, but of the presence that exceeds thought. So many things become possible in this awareness, and one feels more alive than ever.
Consider this, thoughts about the future are never as satisfying as the current moment; the future, a mere thought, pales in comparison to the now, as a shadow to a tree.
There is a kind of prayer that one may cultivate until it is almost constant. This prayer, or perhaps, readiness for prayer, is the awareness of God's life beyond and within his creatures. God's life reverberates in the words of Scripture, read in a spirit of prayer and awe. God's life vibrates in his creation which is ever new and overflowing with energy. God's life shines forth in the life and death of the Christ, who continues to live both in heaven and on earth in the person of his Church, of which we are members. God's life lives in us.
Yet, we forget this life. And our thoughts cover over the silence in which this awareness would flower. Perhaps that is why the desert monks grew to realize that their thoughts were the biggest obstacle to constant prayer. They grew vigilant over their thoughts, watching for them as if waiting for a fish to take the bait.
They watched their thoughts so that they could get behind them, not because they were so fascinating in themselves. Their thoughts, however useful and necessary for so many activities, kept getting in the way of their prayer. Perhaps it is best when words and prayer are consonant, but this is not always guaranteed.
The desert monks glimpsed God beyond their thoughts, and thus knew that God was not their conceptions of him. God was more than their thoughts. In fact, I am more than my thoughts; you are more than your thoughts. The world is more than our thoughts. Even thoughts are more than thoughts, right?
The desert monks hoped to grow more constantly aware, not of their thoughts, but of the presence that exceeds thought. So many things become possible in this awareness, and one feels more alive than ever.
Consider this, thoughts about the future are never as satisfying as the current moment; the future, a mere thought, pales in comparison to the now, as a shadow to a tree.
