Years ago, when our son Sasha — now 30 — was a child, my husband, Michael, Sasha and I would take hands when we sat down to dinner, and I would offer a brief prayer. Neither Michael nor Sasha loved this little ritual, but I insisted. Evening after evening: Take hands, short prayer.
When Sasha was about 5, I told him it was time for him to offer the prayer before dinner. This caused some grumbling, and I said he could think about it, but that the time was coming. One evening, I told him it was his turn. After some fidgeting and complaining on Sasha’s part, we three took hands, bowed our heads and Sasha offered this prayer: “No guns, no bombs, no grabbing toys.”
Seemed perfect to me.
This nation is now two years into the Trump administration, and many progressive people have exhausted themselves with acts of resistance. We have marched countless miles, held vigils with candles, organized panels, written postcards, worked on the midterm elections, donated money, attended workshops, participated in strategy sessions, penned op-ed pieces and poured out our hearts in letters to the editor — and this is a very partial list.
Now, in this season of shadows and light, it may be time to turn to an ancient form of petition and lamentation: prayer.
Maybe you are a person of faith. Maybe you define yourself as spiritual but not religious. Maybe you, like my husband, bend and pour wine into the back lawn and talk to the spirits of nature. Maybe you wander by the Mill River and whisper blessings and dreams. Maybe you read sacred texts. Maybe you kneel in prayer or sit in meditation. Whatever remotely spiritual practice you may follow, now is a good time to commune with all gods and goddesses, all spirits and divine manifestations, all sources of good cosmic energy. In my Christian tradition, we call this prayer.
Our marching, vigiling, chanting, and organizing days are far from over. But maybe in these final weeks of the tumultuous and terrifying 2018, we can just pause. And maybe we can do something as quiet, as profound, as radical, as timeless and as meaningful as praying.
As a pastor, I am asked often if I believe prayer makes a difference. And my immediate answer is yes. I think prayer changes the pray-er. Changes him, her or them for the better. I think prayer releases something in our hearts and in our souls that aches to be expressed. I think prayer changes us.
I also think prayer changes the world. I do not know how. But the positive energy of prayer joins the vibrational field that encompasses the earth, and the outcome is something real and powerful. If that is too vague or New Age for your tastes, I understand. I think the enormous effects of prayers are too vast to understand and too elusive for words.
Mother Teresa was once asked by a reporter how she prayed. Her answer was, “Oh, when I pray, I just listen.” The reporter followed up and said, “And what does God say?” Mother Teresa answered, “Oh, God just listens.”
That works for me.
As the sorrow, losses and pain of this past year weigh on us heavily, we can choose to grow quiet and just listen. Maybe the Holy One, known to us by so many different names and revealed to us in so many different ways, hears the unspoken longings of our hearts in the deep silence.
Maybe, for a moment, we can move beyond words, beyond pleading, beyond anguish, beyond fear and in silence just listen. Maybe we can trust that a Higher Power — as divine energy is referred to in 12 Step programs — is also just listening and that the words inscribed on our hearts are meaningful to that Higher Power.
Prayer is not passive, but it does require surrender. When one prays, one surrenders to hope and possibility. Settling into the quiet of hope and possibility is good for our inner life and good for the world.
Maybe, for a brief moment, progressive activists can recognize that we have done enough. We have been faithful. We have been steady. We have marched until our feet hurt, lettered placards until we ran out of slogans, made phone calls until we could barely dial another number, and sat in meetings until our brains went numb. Maybe, for a brief moment, we can say: Enough with the action, time for contemplation. Maybe now, during the waning weeks of this terribly difficult year, we can be quiet and pray — whatever that means to each one of us.
Maybe, on the wings of prayers, we can send into the universe our hopes and visions for the healing of Mother Earth, the safety of children, an end to gun violence, the elimination of nuclear weapons, an outbreak of peace, the end to poverty and super-wealth, a reign of justice, embracing fairness and loving the diversity and beauty of the human family.
If this sounds too daunting, start small and simple. Pause for one moment and offer these seven words, which will be sufficient: “No guns, no bombs, no grabbing toys.”
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Andrea Ayvazian, of Northampton, is part of the ministerial team of the Alden Baptist Church in Springfield. She is the founder and director of the Sojourner Truth School for Social Change Leadership, which offers free movement-building classes from Greenfield to Springfield. She writes a monthly column on the intersection of faith, culture and politics, and can be reached at opinion@gazettenet.com.