… I am the woman who stood here beside you, praying to the lord. 

1 Samuel 1:26

A silent truth stirs at us amidst the many scientific breakthroughs, technological advancement, political development and the efficiency of social networks of our times. All these have not succeeded in quietening the restiveness of the human heart. None of our gadgets bring us comfort when a loved one is diagnosed with a terminal illness; they give us only a momentary distraction. No political negotiation wipes off the tears from the cheek when we are saddened by the loss of a parent, child, sibling or friend. Despite the glamour of today's society, we still experience frustration, depression, failure and times of helplessness. What then should we do?

Few years back, a woman shared this story at a workshop I attended. She had a six-year-old son whom she had conscientiously schooled in prayer. Among other things, she made him kneel beside his bed every night and say aloud a few prayers, ending with a request: ‘God, I beg you to bless my mummy, daddy, grandma and grandpa'. One night shortly after he started school, she took him to his room, waited to hear his prayers and to tuck him in for the night. But when it was time for him to kneel by his bedside and recite his prayers, he refused and crawled into bed instead. His mother asked him: ‘What's the matter? Don't you pray anymore?' The boy responded, ‘I don't pray anymore, because the nun teaching us at school told us that we are not supposed to pray but to talk to God and tonight, I am tired and have nothing to say!' 

To be tired is a genuine human condition. What do we do when we are tired- that is, when we have nothing more we could do? We need help from beyond, from somewhere beyond human support. We need God's help. We need prayer and prayer brings out the best in us. Even with the assurances of her husband, Elkanah, Hannah was tired of her experience of barrenness, but she knew what to do. This knowledge was not weakened in the face of a ridicule by the priest of the Temple, Eli. Hannah was simply convinced of one fact: she prayed not because God needed her to pray but because without prayer, one may never find any steadiness in life. Without prayer, the best in us – coherent words/acts of love, forgiveness, sympathy, togetherness and our common humanity- will be unknown and we will always be either too full of ourselves or too empty.

For most persons, advent does not come as a season of prayer. It is usually seen as a stop gap on the way to Christmas; hence, the bigger picture always stays on everything that will make Christmas celebration a better one than the previous year. But there could be no deeper sense of purgation than a preparation. Besides, how do we celebrate any of the sacraments without a preparation? In this sense, advent becomes a penitential season, a period of prayer.

Prayer, as it is understood in all its best traditions, is meant to do two things for us, both at the same time. Prayer connects us to divine energy and tells us that this energy is not our own. Like the little boy, prayer is a talk, and we talk to God in proportion to our yearning for him. Hannah did this talk; advent calls on us to embrace the talk. Talking with God as a best friend is transformative. It must not always be about a miraculous experience. 

***

A reflection written by Anthony B. Zabbey O.S.A., SOAS, University of London

Follow the Order of Saint Augustine (O.S.A.), Province of England

theaugustinians.org | Facebook | Twitter