Now, I'm not a particularly religious person by orthodox standards. I believe in the major points of the Catholic faith, and love attending Mass. Oddly, I accept all other people's faiths (or lack thereof) as absolutely true. It's kind of weird, but work with me here.
However, one of the things I never got used to was the act of praying. Often depicted as children kneeling at the foot of their bed with hands folded together peacefully, or a group of people holding hands asking their God to intercede on their behalf, I never settled into the formality of my Catholic faith or the social and sometimes noticeably public displays of reverence. With the exception of Mass, I never set aside time to pray. On the odd time that I decide I want to have a leisurely conversation with God, I'm found lying down in my bed or sitting cross-legged in a chapel decidedly alone. When I took up residence in Grebel, a Mennonite University College at the University of Waterloo, I was in for a culture shock when it came to religion. Unlike my community back home, my friends here were pointedly outward with their expressions of faith. One thing that I found particularly captivating was worship. Having never participated in a worship ceremony before, I went to one on a Tuesday night, and was totally unprepared for the 30-odd young adults vigorously singing songs whose tunes they knew by heart. I can admit to crying through most of it. I continued to go to (and play violin for) worship throughout the year, but it became increasingly apparent that I went for an entirely different reason than everyone else there. When I was singing, I didn't immerse myself into the words or dance like so many others did. I didn't fall on my knees, or pray silently. |
Instead, I watched people. The community of people who came together to celebrate something they all loved so wholeheartedly was precious to me, and I savoured every minute of it. Appreciating that community was my own special form of prayer.
After that realization, I started noticing my unconventional methods of prayer in different aspects of my life. Sitting on a bench at night with my eyes closed, listening to the sounds around me for half an hour unperturbed, is my way of hearing God. Picking apart the noise to find something beautiful is my way of learning a little bit about His world. I see God when I watch other people dancing, or notice the way they look at others. I meet Him when I have life chats with people I meet, seeing their vulnerability and strength. I learn about Him when I read the stories and thoughts of strangers, knowing more about people I've never met than I thought possible. I pray by sitting outside of my house with a beer and a book, enjoying the sunshine. I pray by hugging people when I know they need one, or spinning them off the ground in exuberant greeting. I pray by protecting my friends, and by asking their forgiveness when I wrong them. I pray by singing, by making music, by holding hands and saying nothing. I pray by crying and by laughing, sometimes at the same time. The way I see it now, I don't set aside time for prayer. My entire life is one big fat prayer, and the conversation isn't really as one-sided as I once thought it was. |