Prayer as I Age Moses urges us to pray with the same ardor of Jesus, to intercede for the world, and to remember that despite all its frailties, it still belongs to God. Everyone belongs to God. The worst sinners, the most wicked people, the most corrupt leaders, are children of God, and Jesus feels this and intercedes for everyone. And the world lives and flourishes to the blessing of the righteous, to the prayer for mercy. Community, Love Crucified. Teaching Manual Love Crucified 2020 (p. 74). Kindle Edition. When I was a young monk in my twenties, Br. Ken’s parents would visit our monastery once a year. I still remember the first time I met his mother in our family's guest house. She was sitting in a rocking chair, gently holding a Rosary. We spoke for about thirty minutes, and I found her to be a lovely, gracious woman. At one point, I asked about her Rosary. She told me that as she grew older, prayer became more important to her, and the Rosary was her constant companion. Most days, she would sit quietly in her living room, slowly reciting its prayers. Over the years, I’ve noticed this pattern in many older people—men and women alike—who made prayer a priority when they were younger. I once knew a Jewish woman who spent her days repeating the Psalms. Now that I am older, I understand what they were experiencing. As my energy for engaging with the “outer” world diminishes, my desire to pray and open my heart to God continues to grow. Like Br. Ken’s mother, I find myself craving prayer. The soul breathes when it prays, and as I age, this need to embrace God’s love deepens. My connections with others have also become richer. Years ago, I made Br. Ken’s mother a Rosary with large wooden beads strung on Paracord. She loved it, prayed with it daily, and was buried with it when she passed away. My recent heart procedure was difficult, yet it brought profound changes and unexpected inner healing. I’m not sure I would want to go through it again, but I know the experience was worth it. It taught me endurance, vulnerability, and the hard truth of mortality. No book could have prepared me for that journey. Through it all, prayer sustained me. I’ve learned that what feels like God’s absence often hides a deeper experience of His presence. Prayer is not always easy, but the Rosary gives me a starting point—a rhythm and beauty that carries me forward. I pray slowly, because if I rush, the words become mechanical and lose meaning. Others prefer a faster pace, and that works for them. For me, slowness opens the heart. Prayer also connects me to the world—to every man, woman, and child. It roots me in the present moment, keeping my mind from drifting to the past or future. When I am truly present, even fatigue feels lighter. In the end, prayer helps us adapt to the changes of aging and reminds us how precious each day is. We only have now. Staying rooted in that truth is both a gift and a challenge—and without God’s grace, it reveals our inner poverty.—Br. MD
How beautiful! It reminds me of Old Man River. That prayer runs like a river from the mountains to the sea. At first fast and darting then slowly towards its close old Man river just ambles slowly, winding along.
A priest told me one time that sometimes older people came to him in Confession and told them a big problem. They said that they could no longer pray. When he asked them why they said that when they started to pray, say, saying, 'Our Father' , they got lost in it and could not pray anymore. The Father explained that they had entered into Contemplative prayer. A place beyond words.
Yes, we are all children in this sense: Christ as Son of the Father laid down His life for all and rose up again. May my prayers for a deeper personal conversion always include this hope: that many more shall themselves surrender their hearts to Jesus and be baptized into His Body, the Church. To be so adopted as God's child is a marvelous thing, for we are then sealed with the Holy Spirit and made part of the Clan! Never to stop there, but continue to grow.
I think prayer mostly is just one step in front of another, kind of plodding on day by day. Just like life itself. As St Teresa once said finding God in the pots and pans. But then every now and then and it may take years and years for this to happen suddenly a time of change comes along. Like a Autumn or Winter or Spring. A time when the ground kinda rocks beneath our feet and we are called upon to move forward. Very often this can manifest as a real time of darkness and crisis and challenge. We are invited to move forward, not forced to. God never forces love. We can choose to return to the safe place we were at or move forward bravely in Faith.. Sadly many, many people refuse to step out in Faith. But there is this real paradox in prayer that the very times that we appear to be the greatest failure is actually the very period in which are prayer is most bringing forth fruit in holiness. Recently I have been thinking about this a lot in the Mystery of the Ascension. 'His leaving us seemed like an Annihilation.' But really His leaving us was only to permit the Coming of the Holy Spirit. Unless we die with Christ we shall not live with Him. There are times when the seed is buried and we must wait patiently for the Spring.
The one thing I never saw anyone talk about was what a great adventure the prayer/spiritual life is,. It has been the most wonderful journey of my life. Nothing compares to it for a second. Always something new, always something wonderful . People talk of the terrors of hell. But I think the very worst thing about hell will be that is boring and black and white. Prayer and heaven on the other hand are colour and music and dance and poetry and adventure and excitement and getting drunk on the Holy Spirit. It is about being constantly at was with the devil and all that is evil What a pity to miss it.
