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Acedia; a spiritual malady

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During this little slice of Ordinary Time after Christmas and before Lent we might begin to feel spiritually unenthused. Maybe we were already. Maybe we even avoid prayer and the practice of our faith. Maybe we have an aversion to our daily duties. Maybe we’re bored and drawn mostly to distractions. What’s going on? St. Evagrius (AD 385-399) who lived  in the Egyptian desert as an early monastic wrote about something called acedia. 

What is acedia? The Catechism of the Catholic Church (2733) calls it a form of depression caused by giving in to spiritual laxity or presumption. The Desert Fathers thought of it as a spiritual condition people can fall into with a complex set of symptoms, a spiritual malady, or even as a demon. 

[Acedia is] a hatred of industriousness, a battle against stillness, stormy weather for psalmody, laziness in prayer, a slackening of ascesis, untimely drowsiness, revolving sleep, the oppressiveness of solitude, hatred of one’s cell, an adversary of ascetic works, an opponent of perseverance, muzzling of meditation, ignorance of the scriptures, a partaker in sorrow, a clock for hunger.

St. Evagrius

Yikes. 

St. Evagrious of Pontus says the real roots of acedia are self centeredness, anger and misdirected desire. When oppressed by acedia we tend to seek comfort and pleasure to counteract the restlessness we feel, and in response to our aversion to spiritual practice. We avoid the tasks we are responsible for. We withdraw from charitable activity and are more prone to gab with others for our own entertainment and distraction than to be useful to them.  We fill our lives with surface busy-ness, avoiding prayer and study. We lack spiritual desire and quietly long for things and activities that will draw us away from the spiritual. We are both restless and exhausted. We want to sleep, we want to pace the floor. We feel at once angry and dissatisfied as well as listless, staring at nothing. This sounds terrible. No wonder Evagrious called it “the most oppressive of demons.’ 

All of this reminds me of  a passage from one of my favorite books, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. 

“There once was a boy named Milo who didn’t know what to do with himself; not just sometimes but always. When he was in school he longed to be out, and when he was out he longed to be in. On the way he thought about coming home, and coming home he thought about going. Wherever he was he wished he were somewhere else, and when he got there he wondered why he’d bothered. Nothing really interested him- least of all the things that should have. “It seems to me that almost everything is a waste of time,” he remarked as he walked dejectedly home from school.”

And “… while he was never anxious to be where he was going, he liked to get there as soon as possible.” 

Had Milo been a monk he would have been diagnosed by the Desert Fathers like Evagrius, as suffering from, and indulging in acedia. 

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If we find ourselves troubled by acedia, what is the remedy? What should we do?

  1. Master your thoughts. 

Notice when your thoughts are going into that irritable, lazy restless lane again, and change course as soon as you notice. Something that helps me is to repeat the names of Jesus and Mary; “Jesus Maria Jesus Maria Jesus Maria” each time I find myself on that negative track again. Be patient with yourself. It doesn’t help to be mad or disappointed in yourself. Simply move on and persevere.

“Whether or not all these thoughts trouble the soul is not within our power; but it is for us to decide if they are to linger within us or not and whether or not they stir up the passions.”

St. Evagrius
  1. Resist. If you want to sleep or run away or indulge in compulsive activity, persevere in what you are actually supposed to be doing in spite of how you feel. If you are avoiding prayer, pray. If you are avoiding your duties, get back on track. If you’ve lost sight of your routines, get back to them. I suggest working on one thing at a time so you aren’t overwhelmed. When you are stuck in acedia even one of these things can be hard enough to change.
  1. Gratitude. Write down five things you are grateful for when everything is getting on your nerves. It works surprisingly well. 
  1. Manual labor. Nothing helps me as much as some vigorous sweeping, mopping or dragging things around outside.  According to the Fathers, acedia is both mental and physical. This is why it’s so hard to kick.  
  1. Meditate on the Passion and Death of Jesus. Maybe praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary or The Way of the Cross can assist you in this. This is uniquely grounding for us as Christians.
  1. Ask God for the gift of tears. According to Evagrius, the gift of tears in prayer, and tears of repentance are indispensable for liberation from acedia.  So have a good holy cry, it cleanses the soul. 
  2. Preach the Psalms to your own soul. As Dorothy Day wrote, “My strength returns to me with my cup of coffee and the reading of the psalms. ” 
  1.  Engage your intellect. I learned this from Fr. Gregory McLaughlin who taught me that when I was being ruled too much by my emotions, I should study, especially religious study such as Scripture or good spiritual reading. It works.
  1.  Go to confession. This may seem obvious but remember the Sacrament of Reconciliation is healing and restorative. God gave us Confession so we can receive his mercy, overcome our sins and begin anew which is exactly what we need to be free of acedia and free for God. 
  2. Good deeds. Go through the day quietly tucking in small kindnesses wherever you can. This is a remedy for almost any malady of any kind. When you are ready, throw yourself into working for others in some way.

Gently fold these things into your life and you will soon sense a clear fine spiritual love reclaiming its place in your heart. 

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In her hearing

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During these horrifying days of unutterable violence and war, of every kind of atrocity, what can we do? We are far away. We are not leaders of nations. We have to go to work, we have to let the dogs out, listen to a little kid, put dinner together, and also be horrified, feel helpless, ache for the children caught in this, and feed the cat. We have to figure out what to wear tomorrow, wonder if we forgot something we were supposed to do, and as the scenes of  mutilation blood and terror cross our minds we wonder what to even say to God. 

Maybe nothing.

Maybe we should just let our hearts be pierced as Mary did. We could take on her pure and open heart completely in tune with her suffering Son’s and willing to be present and active in those hours he was slowly dying. She accepted the piercing of her heart, and “the secret thoughts of many [were laid] bare.” I used to wonder what that last part meant. I couldn’t get an answer from anyone about it that seemed right.

But what happens when our secret thoughts are laid bare? We see the truth about ourselves. Our conscience is awakened and we tend to desire to change. Maybe the piercing of Mary’s heart caused conversion of heart for others and still does. 

At the same time she was made the mother of all Christians from the cross by Jesus, she received from God a special gift for nudging us toward conversion, of laying bare the truth within us. This would be in line with her role as Spouse of the Holy Spirit who is the Spirit of Truth and Love.

We know Mary has been given unique gifts and that she intercedes for us in heaven. She is advocate of the people of God and she hears the cries of the world. 

Such is her unity with God that in her hearing of suffering her knowledge of it is already prayer. Mary is there in Israel and Gaza now touching every face, assisting the dying, suffering with those in distress and in the piercing of her heart at the foot of this cross the possibilities open for changes of heart. 

She is to be found wherever her Son is found, exactly where he said he would be; among those who are hungry naked imprisoned or persecuted. He is with the suffering and so is Our Lady. She is there praying with all who pray. Her feet are muddy and her face is streaked with tears. She wants us to join her and in the wind of the Spirit we can. 

This is not a helpless dwelling on the horror taking place. This is knowing that God makes our little prayers BIG. We are to reign with Christ and this is how he shares his reign with us. He loves to share his mission with his disciples. 

We don’t know what God will do in response. But we know he will do something. We know he gave the world a mother we need so much. 

We can take on the mind and heart of Mary. We can go with her and bring comfort in mysterious ways, change hearts even when we don’t know it. We can become windows of grace God’s will can flow through into this world. 

We are only little windows but God doesn’t care. He shares his power and love to widen our hearts for his love to flow through.

And in our hearing and seeing and knowing if we remain close to God, our silence becomes full and active. What we know instantly becomes intercession, becomes prayer. 

When you hear of bloodshed and terror you will already be praying, and prayer does things. 

Like Mary let our hearts be pierced at the foot of this cross. May God receive our offering.

“Come, Holy Spirit, come by means of the powerful intercession of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, thy well beloved spouse.”

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Mary of Bethany; an oil poured out

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July 29 is the feast of Sts. Martha, Mary and Lazarus, the siblings of Bethany. Bethany was a little village not far from Jerusalem. It seems to have been Jesus’ favorite stop on his journeys, his home away from home.  Apparently these three friends were great company, and supportive of his mission. They had a house big enough for his travel companions, the food was great and Martha, Mary and Lazarus were always eager to be caught up on the latest adventures of Jesus and his itinerant followers.  

Martha and Lazarus’ sister Mary has been conflated with St. Mary Magdalene since the Middle Ages and this impression continued for centuries in Christian hagiography and art. Modern Biblical scholarship and a pronouncement of Pope Paul VI put an end to that mix up.  St. Mary Magdalen continues to be celebrated on July 22, and Mary of Bethany joined her brother and sister as her own person. 

This leaves us with three Gospel stories of St. Mary of Bethany. 

At the feet of Jesus (Luke 10:38-42)

Poor Martha is hosting all by herself, running ragged, resentful and starting to bang the pots and pans in the kitchen. Finally she decides to get her feelings out. She unburdens her heart right to Jesus. Isn’t that what we should do? Maybe not in front of the company, granted, but we should lay out burdens before him and be honest with him. He knows what’s inside us anyway. 

I like to think the Lord’s answer gave Martha peace. All the times Jesus has straightened me out when I was wrong or off course I have felt instant peace. Whether what he asked of me was easy or unpleasant I felt peace and that’s how I knew he was speaking. It seems Martha had taken on more than she was required to.  I have taken on tasks and responsibilities God was not asking me to and the first symptom I have is usually exhaustion followed by resentment and self righteousness. Eventually there will be an outburst. I hope Martha felt unbound and freed by what Jesus said to her. 

It’s easy to see Mary feeling affirmed and freed, protected and understood by Jesus’ defense of her. I recently read that the way she is sitting at Jesus’ feet listening to his teaching would have been controversial in her time and culture. It was something a disciple did. Rabbis weren’t supposed to have female disciples. The study of Torah and the pursuit of knowledge was for men only.  By sitting at Jesus’ feet as his student she was being quite bold and acting as an equal to the men. Jesus affirms her in this, allowing her to keep the place she has chosen.  

Of course we also see Mary of Bethany here as a beautiful model for Christian contemplatives. She is deeply attentive to Jesus, looking  at his face, internalizing all that he says, pondering in her heart.  

During a skit of this scene we acted out as a family my then four year-old daughter Maire had Mary get up, offer to take over the host duties, and invite Martha to take a turn at Jesus’ feet. I like that a lot. Maybe it was that way. 

Mourning Lazarus John (11:1–45)

Lazarus fell ill. His sisters cared for him and prayed over him, waiting for Jesus to come and heal him. They knew he could save their brother. They sent an urgent message. Mary would have sat by her brother’s bed keeping vigil, offering him her gift of profound presence and connection. Martha would have changed his blankets, kept a wet rag on his head, brewed medicinal teas, asked advice from the wise, sent for doctors, made favorite dishes she hoped he would eat. Sometimes they would have had to switch places and learn the other one’s ways of loving and serving. 

Jesus never comes, though they keep a lamp burning for him through every night in hopes he will. Every footfall outside, every stirring they hear they think perhaps it is Jesus or at least a message from him. They don’t understand. Why doesn’t he come? Why doesn’t he respond? 

Lazarus’ illness becomes imminently  life threatening, their anxiety for him so intense, neither of them sleeps at all. They hold him in his struggle for breath and as life ebbs away. 

They try to comfort one another. They ask each other, “Why did Jesus never come?” 

They wash and anoint his body with the women of their family winding him in scented burial cloths to bury him in their family tomb.  

The house is full of family friends and neighbors sitting shiva with them. https://www.shiva.com/learning-center/sitting-shiva

Finally Jesus shows. Martha as we have seen her do before, makes her thoughts and feelings known to him. She confronts Jesus while at the same time expressing her faith in him. She knows he could have saved her brother as he has saved so many others. She also has come to know and believe he is the Messiah and Son of God, just as Peter had also done and she says so. “Even now,” Martha says hopefully, “I believe.”

She runs to get her sister who is in the house with all the mourners and tells her Jesus is here and asking for her. 

It’s when Jesus sees Mary’s tears that he cries too. This is important to me, to all of us. Yes for some reason Jesus does allow bad things to happen to us. At the same time, as Madeleine Le’Engle says, everything that happens to us happens to God too. 

Mary also confronts Jesus, falling at his feet, her movement a desperate plea of prostate grief. 

He doesn’t ask Mary for a declaration of faith. Maybe he knew she had it in abundance already. He only responds with his tears and his actions. He gives her her brother back alive. 

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Anointing Jesus (John 12:1-8)

This is the beautiful story that captures the imagination so powerfully; Mary of Bethany interrupts dinner, unbinding her hair, carrying in an alabastron of outrageously expensive perfume worth a year’s wages. 

Since she seems to have been unmarried (as she is living at home) perhaps it had been meant for her dowry. To me this brings out an extra meaning. Perhaps she intended never to marry and to fully dedicate her life to Jesus, pouring out her love and devotion to him alone. 

Her contemplative nature, her attentiveness and connection to Jesus lead her to anticipate his death; the only one of his followers who understood that it was imminent, and maybe even what his death would mean.  

With compassion she comes to acknowledge both what he is about to endure and what he means to her. 

Have you ever smelled spikenard, aka nard?  It is not a floral scent but a sharp, pungent smell. It would have filled the whole house and the scent would have lingered for days and days in every room and on both Jesus and on her hair.

The others at the table were offended at her extravagance, saying the nard could have been sold and used to feed the poor. Jesus defends her. We will always be able to help the poor but we would not always have him. “She has done a beautiful thing for me.” She dries his feet with her hair.  

Women’s hair was supposed to be covered in public and especially in the presence of men who were not their husbands. Here our Mary of Bethany unveils and not only that dries the feet of Jesus with her hair. I wonder what those present would have made of that? 

I’m thinking of the spiritual marriage written about and experienced by the great mystics of our faith such as Sts. Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Rose of Lima, Catherine of Sienna among others, in which the soul becomes one with God. Maybe Mary of Bethany was experiencing this or had. Maybe this bold and lavish gesture was her response, her understanding of his destiny born of that union and love. 

Wouldn’t you love to be able to comfort Jesus with your compassion and love? To do something that is deeply meaningful for him? To pour out your love diffusing its fragrance through all his house, to smell it on your hair for days to remind you, knowing he also carried it? To remember his words, that you had done a beautiful thing for him? 

We can. When we love, when we serve, when we pray like an oil poured out to the One we love. 

 Your anointing oils are fragrant; 

your name is oil poured out; 

therefore maidens love you.

Song of Songs 1:3

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Let go and let God with your Examination of Conscience

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When we come before the Friend who we know loves us, it is important that we make an Examination of Conscience. This is so we can remove anything that stands between us and him.

If we have failed a friend we aren’t going to show up to our coffee date with her or him and pretend nothing has happened. We don’t ignore problems because we care about our friendship. We love our friend and we want to be a good friend to him or her. We say, “I’m sorry I forgot to call you,” or we say, “I think I hurt your feelings when we were all talking. I’m sorry I should have realized.”

The Friend knows we are little and prone to weakness. He knows. He loves our trust and the love we have for him to open our hearts and admit our wrongs before him. .

So unburden your heart and don’t be ashamed. As you look over your day and see whether you lost your temper, failed to help someone you know you should have, lax in your duties at work or home; whether you were selfish, prideful or mean, tell him everything without fear. You show great trust in his mercy and love this way.

“As to my evil deeds and my sins, He hid them at once.”

– St. Teresa of Jesus

It has been more productive and transformative for me to regard myself with a kind of detached affection when I notice my sins and failings as I would a those of a small child’s. I have a tendency to be intensely ashamed which I think is a kind of self absorption and pride that is unhelpful in trying to change or let myself be changed. I can waste a lot of time being shocked at myself when Jesus isn’t. He knows me better than I know myself and nothing I do surprises him. As St. Therese said when we are little we don’t have far to fall and we know we will soon be scooped up in our Father’s arms and comforted.

As you unburden your faults to him, and pray an Act of Contrition: either the traditional one, or one you say in your own words, imagine that he is gently washing your face.

He does this with so much mercy and love. He does this so you can shine again. He loves to see that.

Now take his hands, he is offering them to you, and look at him. Let him look at you.

How beautiful you are, my love; how perfect you are! Song of Songs 4:7

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“And now that you are alone daughter,”

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To me Ordinary Time is getting back to the everyday and delightful work of prayer and service that makes up our beautiful Christian lives. It means hot Texas afternoons, coming into the cool, quiet church, feeling relieved as the sweat evaporates from my face and back and peace surrounds me.

“Hi Jesus. hi. Help me pay attention at mass this time.” I can’t help but smile to myself, or really, at him, in his sweet presence there.

His presence is also right here with us, in us.

Ordinary Time beckons

with the promise of quiet inner space

to be with Jesus in the center of my heart,

I in the center of his,

drawing from the source of all life.

St. Teresa wrote about how the companionship of the Lord is magnified when we are prayerfully solitary, our awareness of him not in the least disturbing our perfect solitude.

“Contemplation is nothing more than making time to be alone with the one who we know loves us.”

Instructing us in how to go about practicing inner prayer, she writes, “And now that you are alone, daughter, make the Sign of the Cross.”

In this way you acknowledge that you are in the presence of God, with the intention of spending time alone with him.

You will notice this kind of quiet and solitude are more full than empty, and that the fullness is nourishing, often joyful. Again, it makes me smile. “Hi Jesus, hi.”

If you have trouble with your focus when you are alone, if stillness causes you anxiety, or of you have many worries that disturb your peace, here are a few things to try.

It helps me to listen to the sounds around me. If you are blessed with a silent house or a quiet chapel, these sounds will be small. Mentally note them, starting with the farthest away. Maybe a dog barks from a neighbor’s yard down the street. Someone is mowing in the distance, a car drives by. Now bring your awareness closer. Maybe you hear birds singing, children playing next door, wind in the trees outside your window, a sprinkler perhaps. How about sounds in your house or wherever you are right now? A clock ticking, a washing machine swishing, the refrigerator humming, the dog drinking its water in the kitchen;

listen.

What sounds are in your room? The ceiling fan, the air coming on… your own breathing.

Speaking of breathing, take a few deep breaths; in through your nose, out through your mouth.

Put all your worries in a little pile; Milagros to leave here in his lap while you pray. He will take care of you.

And now that you are alone, daughter, son, love of God’s life, make the Sign of the Cross.

Ah, there he is now.

Smile.

See him smile back.

Send some time with this, with him.

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The Ascension

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To us who celebrate it every year the Ascension of Jesus  seems to naturally follow the initial celebration of his Resurrection. 

However I imagine it was an earth shattering surprise to his followers that he would be leaving them yet again. 

When I reflect on this event as part of the rosary the virtue I link to the Ascension is detachment as I see him beautifully disappear before the eyes of his followers as “a  cloud removed him from their sight.” 

The family of believers had to let go of their expectations that Jesus as they knew him would permanently remain to walk and talk with them. Again they had to face that Jesus was not about to get rid of the Roman occupiers either. There would be no restoration of the Davidic Kingdom  in the literal way they had thought of it. And the One they loved was going to withdraw from them yet again. They must have felt as if they were back from the defining experience of their lives with nothing to show for it, as if they were just a rag tag group of people standing on a mountainside for no particular reason. They were shocked and bereft. They didn’t understand what Jesus meant about him having to leave that the Holy Spirit could come to them. How could they? 

When the angel said that Jesus would be back they must have shaken their heads. Jesus had said for them to go and baptize, to take his message to the world. This must have seemed like too much for them, an overwhelming task, especially on their own. 

They had to greatly expand their understanding of God even past the miraculous three years they had left everything for and deeply identified with now. 

They had to let go so they could be filled and receive Jesus in a whole new way, by his presence in their hearts, and to come to know the Holy Spirit who was new to them. 

How can we receive the Spirit without detachment, self emptying, without freedom of heart? 

“Love- the way God wants to be loved, and leave off your own way of acting,” said St. John of the Cross. 

Or, as Jesus said to St. Angela of Foligno, “Make of yourself a capacity and I will make myself a torrent.” 

Jesus said that if his friends loved him they would be happy he was going to the Father. (Jon.14:28) Is there something more to that than being happy for him? Yes, because he says, “for the Father is greater than I.” Maybe it also means that we have to let our current perhaps more comfortable understanding go to make room for the immensity he has for us. We can be happy he is going to the Father because then, in letting him go as we thought we had him, he then is truly closer than our breath, more accessible than ever. Detachment is hard. We feel that we are losing our Treasure.   

 St. Faustina said of Mary’s experience of the Ascension that she deeply grieved as any mother would  that her Son was leaving but that, “her heart could not want what God did not want.” 

In seeking a pure heart for God and a Marian detachment; a detachment with great love, a detachment even from the way we thought Jesus would be present to us, we open ourselves to what is even greater, beyond what we could ever have thought of ourselves.  But first we let go. 

“Bend  my heart according to your will, O God.” (Ps. 119:36) 

Then, 

“I shall run in your paths for You will enlarge my heart.” (Psalm 119:32)

In this is peace that comes from open-ness to God and freedom of heart.

These verses are a perfect prayer to cultivate holy detachment as the disciples struggled to do this, standing there on the Mount of Olives, not knowing what to do with themselves. 

Fortunately we don’t have to rely on our own strength in this and neither did they.

Jesus had said to wait in Jerusalem and to pray. They did. They trusted in simplicity. And prayer continually purified theirattachments and intentions as disciples, transforming their dismay into receptivity.   

They still longed for Jesus; his voice, his hug, the sound of his footsteps, “like a deer that longs for running streams in a dry weary land without water,” (Ps. 42:2)  However they soon found that once emptied, their muddled and broken hearts were then open to the new gift of God’s presence; the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, filling them past overflowing, their thirst for God more than quenched.  “Your torrents and all your waves swept over me.”  (Ps. 42: 8)

Come, Holy Spirit, come. 

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Advent Night Meditation

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When I can find a quiet moment,

maybe just before I go to sleep,

I like to think I am in Mary’s womb with Jesus.

It’s quiet

and safe.

It’s only tiny Jesus and me in the sweetest darkness,

just together and nothing more,

held in unity,

each of us full of possibilities smiling serenely

in one another’s company,

surrounded by Mary,

by the universe

and its distant stars.

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Guided Prayer of Recollection (9 minutes)

This is a brief guided version of the Prayer of Recollection of St. Teresa of Jesus with some additional preparation to help you relax and get centered at the beginning. There is a lot of room in this prayer for us to “look” at the Lord in the way that works best for us. It is supremely simple in structure, leaving room for conversation with God, imaginative prayer, or interior silent communion with Christ, whatever way helps you keep the eyes of your soul on the Lord and attentive to him. I used the simple structure St. Teresa outlined in The Way of Perfection, Chapter 26. As an anchor to keep us focussed on God’s presence I suggest mentally praying the Name of Jesus to gently bring our minds back when they wander.

I hope it makes a nice prayer break in your day.

https://fb.watch/gKtOEw5gd1/

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Lessons in Prayer of the Heart

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 I went to see Fr. Cassian Sibley to discuss  Prayer of the Heart in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. The sign on the house read, Theotokos of the Life-Giving Spring Russian Orthodox Church. That has to be the coolest church name I have ever heard in my life.  I told Fr. Cassian so when he opened the door. He is a cheerful man with a kind face and a big bushy beard. He offered me coffee and showed me an assortment of beautiful prayer ropes, or “chotki” used for the meditative repetition of the “Jesus Prayer,” (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”) which is at the core of Prayer of the Heart. Some of the chotkis were made with beads, some with knots in the shape of crosses. Some were quite long, and some were tiny, designed to fit on a baby’s wrist. 

He explains that the simple repetition of the Jesus Prayer is the most common use for lay people, in order to pray without ceasing as they go about their busy lives. I am familiar with this because of one of my favorite spiritual books, The Way of the Pilgrim/The Pilgrim Continues His Way. The pilgrim wanders across Russia praying the Jesus Prayer until his heart prays it continually without effort. The book charts his travel, conversations and spiritual growth in the prayer. 

Fr. Cassian points out that by replacing the “me” in the prayer with the name of someone else, one can use the prayer as an intercessory prayer – while warning that one does not use the phrase “a sinner” while doing so, since a Christian has no authority or right to judge another.

I had brought a rose for Mother Mary which he put in the chapel.  Then I followed him into a pleasant sitting room filled with morning light, and comfortable furniture, lined with books. A parrotlet sang from a nearby cage. I got out my notebook but the conversation was so interesting and lively that I hardly took any notes. I couldn’t have been more content. I was sitting in a cozy chair conversing with an extremely intelligent and deeply spiritual person in a relaxed and friendly way, neither of us hurried. Priests are busy people so I was aware of what a gift his time was.   

Fr. Cassian grew up Southern Baptist but was, as an early teen drawn to the Anglican Church and was preparing to be ordained as an Episcopal priest. As he studied theology though, he became more and more sympathetic to the Orthodox Church, and as a teen, he had read the J.D. Salinger novella, Franny and Zooey, and been introduced to the Jesus Prayer and The Way of the Pilgrim. Eventually he converted to Eastern Orthodoxy and ultimately was ordained as an Orthodox priest. 

I told him my story of being tricked by Mother Mary into falling for Jesus and the Catholic Church after having grown up without religion. He chuckled knowingly and we talked about Mary in both our traditions. I really like the Orthodox title for her, “The Theotokos,” meaning “God-bearer.” 

Our discussion turned to the life of prayer as experienced and expressed in each of our faiths’ contemplative traditions. We have so much in common. There are some interesting differences in our mystical theology, and in our ideas about the experience of Heaven. The Orthodox regard heaven as a continuous free growth of divinization -as an “ever moving rest” – which the Orthodox feel is in contradiction to the experience of what the Western Church calls the Beatific Vision. I said that St. Therese is busy “spending [her] Heaven doing good on earth,”  so maybe we’re not so different there after all. 

We discussed Confession, local events and world news, Church history, the degrees of union with God, the differences between praying with the chotki and the rosary, (for instance we use imaginative prayer and the Orthodox strongly caution against it). 

We talked about the importance of being willing to know Jesus as he is, being ready to shed our own ideas and misconceptions and our lamentable tendency to only accept the aspects of the Lord that we are comfortable with. 

I learned some Greek words and heard a few Russian ones I would be unable to reproduce. 

Eventually we came to the point of my visit, the practice of Hesychasm (the path of deep prayer and living the life of prayer in the Orthodox tradition) and the practice of Prayer of the Heart.  

Before Fr. Cassian gives me practical instructions, he cautions that if one desires to enter into this practice, a spiritual guide, teacher or spiritual director is extremely helpful – which is why the more mystical and non-verbal use of the Jesus prayer is more common, in Orthodoxy, amongst monastics and those with a monastic spiritual father or mother. 

He goes on to say that today in Western Society we think of ourselves as centered in the brain, the mind, and that we tend to pray from there. Biblically, however, the heart is seen as the center of the person where both thoughts and spiritual movements occur. In Orthodox prayer, the pray-er seeks to redirect his or her awareness from the head down into the heart. Fr. Cassian touches his heart often as he speaks, seemingly unconsciously, closing his eyes when he does so. It seems to me that when he does this, a switch is flipped somewhere, a “peace switch” that visibly changes his entire demeanor. Maybe it is a breaker switch because I feel it too! 

Practical Instructions for Prayer of the Heart

Stand or sit comfortably with your back relatively straight, in silence, solitude and stillness. 

Breathe in, and allow one’s conscious awareness to follow that breath as one prays, silently, “Lord Jesus Christ”

Exhale slowly, maintaining, if possible, one’s conscious awareness in the heart, as one prays silently, “Son of God,” 

Inhale, as before, while silently praying “have mercy on me”

Breathe out slowly and prayerfully acknowledge that one is “a sinner.” 

Slowly repeat this cycle again and again. 

Continually bring your awareness into your heart, bringing Jesus’ Name, his presence into it. Eventually it will be the heart that keeps time, so to speak, and the heart that speaks. After that, everything is up to God, and God alone.

The true Prayer of the Heart as he describes it sounds like what a Carmelite would call the grace of infused contemplation, where it is God who acts within us, and we are drawn into union with him. 

We talk about the traditional understanding  of the progress of the soul through the Purgative Way (purification), the Illuminative Way (the growing knowledge of God and his ways) and finally the Unitive Way (one-ness with God).  

Before I leave, Fr. gives me a copy of his wife’s new book of poetry, Zoom and the Neanderthal Girl by Olympia Sibley, (I highly recommend it!) and I give him a copy of my book, Come to Mary’s House; Spending Time with Our Blessed Mother. (Release date September 26)

He invites me to come again, perhaps for dinner with his wife and him. I say that would be great. 

I had set out today to write about the Prayer of the Heart but I can’t help but feel that perhaps Fr. Cassian and I have begun to do our part in healing the Great Schism one conversation, one prayer, one friendship at a time. 

*My thanks to Fr. Cassian Sibley for his assistance with this piece.

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