By Julie Parker Amery, Director of Religious Education
Some years ago, I opened myself up to prayer’s invitation. It had been a long journey to the place where I could put aside all the weird associations I had with the word and give it a whirl. At first, it was just tentative mumbles or self-conscious whispers, clumsy words of thanks. Not long into this new practice, I decided to usurp someone else’s prayer—an eloquent prayer that I could say with grace and dignity. That’s how I came to learn the prayer of St. Francis by heart. I also learned the 23rd Psalm.  This led to learning some poems by heart, many of which are some of the prayer-iest prayers I’ve known.  Are you familiar with Rumi’s “The Guest House”? Or Mary Oliver’s “When Death Comes”? Prayers. No question. 

My daily practice has evolved and now goes like this. I sit outside on my porch and, after a time of quiet contemplation, I speak a prayer. It’s important for me to speak it. I think I do this in order to stay focused, and so that my prayer is more clear… I find that simply thinking prayer can get it a little muddled. Often, I begin with the prayer of St. Francis. This is a challenging prayer for me, and if I don’t rush through it, I’ll notice that one or another lines speaks to me, asking for some reflection. More often than not, it’s the line about helping me seek to understand rather than to be understood. Then I speak my own prayer, addressed to God, or Mother of All, or Gracious Spirit, Beloved… however I’m moved that day. I often start with, “Gracious Spirit, thank you for this day. May I live today in a way that honors you, that honors my ancestors, and that honors all who come after me.” Quite a lofty petition, and one that I fail at miserably most days, but one that reminds me to keep trying. 

I continue by asking for support for certain intentions for the day—help me be open-hearted and open-minded, help me to see the divine spark in every being I meet today, help me to be present. 

And then I always ask the Spirit to hold in loving embrace certain individuals. I name people and ask for something particular, usually for them to be surrounded by love, to feel peace, to feel that they are blessed. I’ve recently started including in this part of the prayer someone who’s a challenge to me—someone who’s annoying to me, or who’s made me angry, or whom I simply don’t like very much. This reminds me that they, too, are connected to me and have beautiful souls (underneath all that). 

That’s what prayer is to me. It’s a reminder. Through prayer, I remember my connection to others. I remember what’s meaningful and special about life. I’m reminded of life’s brevity and human fragility and strength. That I’m one in a long line of ancestors and descendants, all connected through time and space. Prayer is a reminder that one of my purposes here is to sow love where there is hatred and faith where there is doubt. It’s a reminder to live each day with intention, with open heart and open mind and to see the divine spark in all beings I meet. 

I’ve found that this is not a bad way to start the day. 

 And now, I invite you to join with me in prayer. This is the prayer of St. Francis. As we pray, I invite you to notice if any particular lines seem to call to you. If so, return to that line throughout the day. It has a message for you. 

God, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
Where there is sadness, joy 

O, Divine Mother
Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned
And it is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.