To hear God's voice, rein in your tongue.
12-16-2022
Matthew 15:11: Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.
Prayer is how we communicate with God. You’d think that it being such an essential connection would mean it’s easy, but that’s not the case. The practice of prayer appears opaque enough to us to warrant lots of books written on the subject. As a recent Catholic convert, I don’t have years of prayer experience behind me, which means I am largely ignorant of prayer and need to ‘catch up’ as quickly as possible. So I read lots of books on prayer to try and make some sense of it.
I’ve read enough to pick up some of the basics, and to learn that real prayer does not resemble the version many of us have in our imaginations. It is not wishing. It is typically not accompanied by mystical visions, grand epiphanies, miracles great or small, nor even a deep sense of peace. Usually it is just a conversation with God. Often a pretty quiet and uneventful one. Sometimes people do emerge from prayer feeling energized, enlightened, inspired, or mystically healed. Sometimes they seem to have heard quite clearly a message from God. People who write and talk about prayer call these “consolations.”
When prayer is uneventful, we can get discouraged because we’re hoping to get something from prayer–we want answers to our questions, comfort for our afflictions, or sometimes just the feeling that our prayers are being heard. But these seemingly reasonable requests don’t always happen in prayer, and when they don’t happen, we can come away with doubts, fears, and frustrations. These are called “desolations.” They’re common, and not fun. They’re boring at best, and totally discouraging at worst. But they have their value nonetheless. After all, it’s often in times of struggle that we are able to see things clearly, truthfully, and with a sense of personal responsibility. So, really, desolations become consolations when we come to see them in the proper light.
Obviously, we want to experience more consolations and fewer desolations in prayer, so as you might guess, there’s a history of folks trying to figure out how to pray well.
In addition to asking priests I meet how to pray well, I’ve been trying to learn how to pray by reading on the subject. Recently I read an excerptfrom Father Edward Leen’s 1935 book Progress through Mental Prayer. In this excerpt, Leen focuses on the role silence plays in prayer. The word “recollection” he uses is a specific aim of prayer where the praying person attempts to become aware of the constant presence of God within himself. This challenging-to-reach state is called “being recollected,” and it’s the target Leen is aiming for.
It should be obvious to anyone that private prayer typically happens in silence (as opposed to public prayer, which, sometimes taking the form of song, can be distinctly not silent). As with any focused practice, prayer works best when all distractions are removed so that the mind can focus without getting jerked around by impulsive thoughts. Leen suggests to achieve this state of mind we must quiet our tongues.
While I agree with Leen that I could stand to keep my mouth shut more often than not, I wondered how my own words could have any bearing on my practice of prayer. After all, it’s not as if I’m speaking while praying. My reckless tongue flaps when I’m around others, and when I’m in private prayer, I’m not around others. So how does this work?
Proverbs 10:19: In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: but he that refraineth his lips is wise.
Leen cites Proverbs 10:19 to remind us that the more we speak, the more likely we are to sin. Benedict cites a different translation of the same passage in his Rule, stating that “In a flood of words you will not avoid sin.” I find this rendering more poetic and compelling–it makes sense to picture our constant blabbering as a flood of words, and I can imagine being carried helplessly downstream, unable to avoid jagged rocks–a good image for sin.
Sin is an obstacle to God, and it is cumulative. Like an unclean house, the more accustomed I become to its presence in my life, the more the mess accumulates and the less I seem to notice it, ultimately creating a larger pile of work in the future should I finally come to my senses and decide to clean up.