on prayer

This is not a dissertation or even a proper essay, just getting some thoughts out. Babbling, really.

The women's chorus I sing in is working on a song with lyrics penned by Anne Frank. (Edited, I think, but pretty close to her original words.) The piece we're singing includes the words, "I lie in bed at night after ending my prayers with the words, Thank you, God, for all that is good and dear and beautiful, and I'm filled with joy." I've had that part of the song stuck in my mind most of the evening.

(I've had possible good news, but other factors have still coaxed me into anxiety. I'm still trying to look on the bright side until I know more.)

I've also thought about a book by Rabbi Naomi Levy. She has written (possibly also edited) prayers for people to utter in certain situations, like success on a job hunt, the death of a child or spouse or parent, a difficult diagnosis, the birth of a baby, or success in a specific endeavor. I was raised to believe that "vain repetition" is a bad thing in prayer and doesn't count. But when I repeat the things I'm grateful for or ask for the same blessings on multiple occasions, I feel a bit awkward even though I mean it sincerely. And I look at Rabbi Levy's prayers and think of how often I can pray for those things and still have them matter to God. I suppose as long as it's heartfelt, it works.

The book is called Talking to God: Personal Prayers for Times of Joy, Sadness, Struggle, and Celebration, by the way. I haven't read it front to back, but it has sparked a lot of thought in me as I have read certain prayers at certain times. It inspires me to be thoughtful in my prayers, because there are things in there I might never have thought I could pray for.

About fifteen years ago, I was good friends with a man I'd been acquainted with for some time, P. I had a huge crush on him, but he was obviously interested in a mutual friend of ours, B. Even though I wanted P for myself, I knew these things can't be forced, and B was the one he wanted, but she didn't find him at all attractive. We were discussing this after church when another friend (N) overheard us and said B could pray for those feelings to occur. We were both a bit surprised; I'd thought it was either natural or it wasn't. N said she hadn't been attracted to her husband when they'd first met, but she prayed, asking for it to happen if marrying him was something she should do. Those feelings came, they married, and they're still obviously besotted with each other some forty years later. The next time B and I hung out, she said that she'd prayed, and nothing changed. I felt bad for both of them: P for feeling that affection and not having it returned, and B for knowing our friend was hurting because of it. She was obviously relieved when her employer transferred her to headquarters a thousand miles away shortly thereafter.

So sometimes the answer is no. I'm okay with that in the abstract, but when things feel so difficult, it's hard to live through the perceived lack.

One thing I read -- it might have been C. S. Lewis who wrote it -- was to pray to God as They are, not as how I think They are. It makes sense, because how can I fathom what our Heavenly Parents are like? You know who you are, you know what you are. The God who made me is who I pray to.

Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg wrote a Twitter thread about prayer last week. Maybe that's what set this all off, because prayer has been on my mind more than usual for the last several days. She talked about the act of prayer, what prayer actually is, gives Biblical examples, Jewish traditions, and ways to pray. Some of the things she talks about are over my head, either because she draws from Jewish history and practices or just because I find it hard to focus sometimes. But a lot of what she says makes sense to me, and I appreciate it when she shares her thoughts.

I've been scanty with my prayers lately. I feel bad about it, but I also feel like I don't want to pray when everything is awful, because then I'm only talking to God when I need something. But I can always express my gratitude for what I have ... even when I'm repeating myself.