Prayer in Meeting
October 26, 2025 § 2 Comments
This was my prayer in meeting this morning, though I did not speak it aloud.
Our Father who art in heaven,
Our Mother who art in the earth,
our Holy Spirit who art in each of us
and in all things living,
please awaken within us true knowledge of thee;
please come to us and abide within us
and move among us,
that we may bear good fruit,
fruit that lasts;
please give us this day and every day
the bread of your life
and quench our thirst for justice;
please guide us on the path of right living
and bring us back when we go astray;
please lead us into love and thankfulness and joy.
Amen
A Prayer
March 9, 2025 § 2 Comments
I have found myself speaking quite often in meeting lately. Maybe it’s because I’m working on a submission on vocal ministry to Pendle Hill Pamphlets, so vocal ministry is not just on my mind, but really in my mind. It’s been making me nervous, speaking often like this, more consistently than I every have in the past—three times in four weeks, maybe four times in six weeks. Oy.
Furthermore, I’m relatively new to the meeting, so I’m worried about how it looks to have this newcomer loading up an early morning worship that not infrequently goes silent the whole hour, as it did this morning.
All these concerns are beside the point, of course. The only thing that really matters is whether I’ve been called. But this new trend has me worried about that, too. Am I really called to speak this consistently?
So I went to meeting this morning set on resisting, and so I did. And that resistance had me literally quaking for the last ten minutes. This was made both easier and more difficult, paradoxically, because the message was a prayer. I have only brought vocal prayer to meeting three times in 38 years, and one of them was an extremely harrowing experience. But I held on to my resolve and did not speak. Was I unfaithful? In the end, it felt okay, but . . . I relieved the pressure by sharing the prayer in “afterthoughts”, so I got it out after all.
I’ve always been uncomfortable with afterthoughts and I think it’s possible that I have not offered one afterthought in all my time as a Friend. I suspect, with no clear evidence, that afterthoughts have some kind of feedback effect on the vocal ministry—but what effect? Does it protect the worship from shallow ministry or lower the bar? I’ve been in meetings that have them and meetings that don’t, and I still can’t tell. But my instincts tell me that afterthoughts must have some kind of effect on the worship that precedes them.
Well, anyway, here is that prayer:
Our Father, who art in the mystery of transcendence;
Our Mother, who art in the earth in her immanence;
Our Holy Spirit, which art in each of us a holy presence;
hallow our hearts and minds to your guidance.
Please help us to bring divine love into the world.
Please give all of us who are in need the necessities of the day.
Please help us to treat others as we want to be treated.
Please help us to resist the temptation to do wrong,
and to have the wisdom and strength to do what is right.
And thank you, thank you, thank you.
Deepening Techniques, Part 3: Meditation
October 16, 2024 § 3 Comments
Centering Prayer
The final step in my deepening process is meditation. I usually practice Transcendental Meditation myself; I’ve been practicing TM since 1968, and I really like it.
But sometimes I practice an alternative that is universally accessible, simple, and effective: centering prayer.
Centering prayer uses the same meditation process as TM, which is a universal technique that’s not unique to either system. But where Transcendental Meditation uses a Sanskrit mantra, a word or phrase of spiritual power that’s drawn from the Bhagavad Gita, centering prayer uses a word that you yourself decide on.
I’m going to describe the process first, and then talk about the word.
Process
Comfort. Sit comfortably with eyes closed and say the word mentally, softly, and repeatedly, with no rush, just in a natural rhythm and pace.
Distraction. At some point, you’ll get distracted by other thoughts and stop repeating the word. No problem.
Start again. Just start in again, repeating the word “at the level of your thoughts.”
Thought stream. By the level of your thoughts I mean that the farther into your meditation you get, the quieter and slower your thought stream will become. So you reintroduce your word at that same level of “volume” and softness as the thoughts you are replacing with the word.
Distraction and repeat. You will keep being distracted and will have to repeatedly return to saying your word internally. That’s perfectly natural.
Deepening. But the deeper you get into your meditation time, the deeper your state of consciousness will become, the slower and quieter your thought stream, the longer you will sustain the repetition without forgetting or getting distracted.
Time. Transcendental Meditation recommends twenty minutes. That seems to be a very common recommendation. More would be fine; less is okay but not ideal.
The word
Meaning. I recommend choosing a word that has some sacred meaning or a meaning that speaks to you with some depth. But it should not be a word that would entice you into thinking about it, or analyzing it. I recommend a word that expresses a single, simple thought, or that brings up one nurturing image.
Syllables and accent. I recommend two-syllable words with an accent on the second syllable. My reason is that the accented second syllable of a two-syllable word draws you forward. As your consciousness deepens, this forward-drawing effect becomes an “inward”-drawing effect, a deepening effect.
Vowels. I recommend words with long vowels or strong vowels, rather than short vowels, because I feel that they last longer and they carry more “weight”, somehow.
Consonants. I recommend soft consonants. Hard consonants, like “t”s and “p”s and “d”s stop the flow of the word. The goal is maximum flow.
Consonants that appear in the middle of the word, which, for instance, end the first syllable of the word, should be round. Good examples are “y”, “m”, “n”, “l”, “sh”, etc.
Consonants that end the word should be naturally extendable, if possible; they should be consonants that almost have no end at all. Good examples are “m” again, and “n”, and especially “ng”.
Examples. I like “amen” pronounced the way it’s pronounced in Hebrew: “ah-MAIN” with the accent on the second syllable. The word means “let it be” and has sacred usage and connotations; it’s “m” rolls nicely, and the “n” just keeps going.
I know people who use “Jesus”. Its meaning could not be more powerful and the image it evokes is wonderful. Its accent is on the first syllable, and it starts with a bit of a sonic jar with the “J”, but its precious place in the consciousness of some meditators would compensate for that. But one could try the Aramaic version of Jesus’ name instead, the name his close companions called him: Yeshua—soft consonants, a fine rhythm, and an open ending. And it decouples the brain from all the connotations that the more common Jesus might evoke.
Or try words that end in “-ying”, like praying, saying, waying. My TM mantra his this “-ying” ending.
And there’s Om. Properly pronounced, om is actually aum; it starts with “ah” sound, morphing into “o” through a “u” that is close to a “w”, and ending on an “m” that slides into an “-mg” sound—almost the same sound as our “-ng” (as in saying), but with the an “m” instead of an “n”. The “-mg” sound can be held for a long time, as in chanting om, and it sort of just fades into peaceful silence.
Resources on centering prayer
Intimacy with God: An Introduction to Centering Prayer, by Thomas Keating. Keating is the fellow who has popularized this age-old Christian practice for our modern times. He’s written a number of books on centering prayer.
Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening, by Cynthia Bourgeault. I’m not so sure about this one. I thought it was the one I had partially read and had in library, but I couldn’t find it, so I’m not sure. This book is both an introduction, and ties the practice Christian contemplation more broadly.
Deepening Techniques, Part 2: Prayer
August 30, 2024 § 1 Comment
We have already partially segued from relaxation into prayer with the affirmations I outlined in the previous post. But I say the affirmations for myself to myself; I do not address them to a divine presence in the way that prayer is normally understood.
But I do pray in the way we normally understand it. I pray to five spirit allies. “Spirit allies” is an inadequate term, but I need a generic. The things they have in common are that they came to me, not I to them; they present themselves to me as “persons” in the sense that they offer relationship and communication; they have distinct “personalities”; and they have brought blessings into my life.
The metaphysics
I’m not going to get deep into metaphysical speculation here. And by that I mean speculation about the nature of the transcendental and about the dynamics behind presence and action in the spirit world, or heaven, if you like: What are these “spirits”? How do humans and spirits interact with each other? How do spirits bring the blessings that they bring to us?
I bring up the subject of metaphysics in order to enlarge the landscape of prayer, to make room for forms of prayer, for understandings or theologies about what’s happening in prayer, and to make room for a variety of addressees of prayer beyond the popular expectation that one prays to God, whatever we might mean by God.
I’m making a case for something like the Roman Catholic approach to prayer, in which you can pray to God and to Jesus, but also to Mary, to angels, and to the saints.
I do think of some of the spirit allies I pray as angels. They have different roles and they came to me in different ways. Some are more active in my spiritual life than others, and they all are more present at some times and less present at others.
Who they are
One is a muse, the spirit that has made my writing life and my spiritual development into one coherent spiritual journey. Another simply reminds me of the joy to be had in this life; sometimes I forget. Two are healing spirits whom I ask for help in my prayer healing work for others. And one is Jesus.
I don’t count myself a Christian, insofar as Jesus has never called me personally and directly into his discipleship. Nevertheless, I have a relationship with him and I invite the spirit of the christ into my spiritual life. I do this for three reasons: First, my deep study of the gospels makes me feel like I know him, that I know the character I see revealed in the gospels. Second, I believe Jesus Christ does exist as a “divine” presence, allowing for an expansive definition of divine; I believe this because of the testimony of so many who know him this way and whose testimony I trust and am not willing to discount or redefine out of some post-Christian sensibility. And finally, I believe Jesus Christ exists because I have had a couple of transcendental experiences in which Jesus seems to have presented himself to me, though not directly to me, but rather, indirectly as—I’m not sure what; it’s a mystery. Still, these encounters have deeply affected me.
Why pray?
Again, my goal here is to open up our understanding of prayer and its possible role in our spiritual lives, because I believe that prayer really makes a difference. Why?
First, conducting one’s spiritual life as a relationship is very different from a spiritual life devoid of personal communication with a presence. Such a relationship gets you outside of yourself. It seems to unlock personal openings and transformations that don’t arise from meditation or thinking or other purely self-centered and self-focused spiritual practice.
Furthermore, these entities, whatever they really are, can do things. I don’t know how, but they can. Or maybe I am doing them with their help. I don’t understand the metaphysics involved, though I can’t stop trying to figure that out; I have my theories. But theories don’t matter. It’s the reality of this mystery that matters.
Praying works. Not all the time, or even very often, in my experience. But sometimes, for instance, my healing prayer has actually healed somebody. And all the time, praying does something meaningful and transformative within me.
So I pray. I address these spirits, whatever they are. I invite them in. I ask them to help me and others. And I thank them.
Holding in the Light
December 13, 2018 § 2 Comments
Liberal Friends have replaced prayer with the practice of “holding people in the light”. Maybe in their minds, the Light has a capital “L”, a kind of stand-in for the deity that is the object of prayer as conventionally practice.
I believe in the power of “holding people in the light”. But I also believe, based on my own experience, that just an inward lip service to the idea of holding in the light is not likely to be enough to effect the desired result. I believe that holding people in the light has become (maybe always was) an outward form without much real power.
Yes, it’s actually an “inward” form in that we do it in our heads. But I call it outward because it’s virtually empty. It’s a verbal and inward ritual. We do not give it the kind of attention it needs or deserves. We say it. We do some kind of inward wish-thing for just a moment. And then we move on.
I’m describing the practice in the context of meeting for worship or some other collective gatherings. I realize that individuals may bring this practice into their personal devotional life with more substantive attention.
My own experience with prayer—and especially with holding in the light—is deeply influenced by my experience with Silva Mind Control, and that experience involved holding someone in the light. Mind Control is a pop-psych, pseudo-scientific self help program that was somewhat popular in the 1970s. It has an unfortunately sinister-sounding name but it is actually quite effective. Half of the program is dedicated to various self-help techniques, many of which are focused on personal health, and half is dedicated to techniques for spiritual healing. I taught Silva Mind Control for several years in the early 1970s, mainly because I witnessed, and I myself performed, spiritual healing so extraordinary as to seem miraculous using its techniques.
As a teacher, I used to lead meetings of Mind Control graduates in which healing circles were a regular feature. They sometimes worked. Not all the time, not even very often. But sometimes.
So I know from personal experience that spiritual healing at a distance, both by individuals and by groups, is real.
Focused and healing prayer
Mind Control’s healing exercises—both the individual techniques and the group work— have three components that I believe really make a difference in actually healing people:
- intention and emotion to supply healing energy,
- centering to deepen consciousness and tap the energy, and
- visualization to focus the energy.
It’s all about energy. The group visualization usually used light as the primary image vehicle, and many practitioners, myself included, use light in our personal work, as well.
Thus I believe in the power of “holding people in the light”, as I said But I also believe in the power of these other components. To move beyond the outward form of holding in the light, to increase one’s chances of an actual positive outcome from the practice, I suggest the following, based on my experience:
- Supplying the energy. One needs to settle into the emotions involved, to connect meaningfully with one’s caring for the person or situation. This generates energy.
- Tapping the energy. To tap the energy, one needs to center down. One needs to take some time and, preferably, use an effective centering technique. I believe that an altered state of consciousness improves your chances for “successful” prayer by an order of magnitude. Sometimes grace happens, a gift born out of simple intention and attention. But not very often. “Success” is rare enough even when you’re doing all the things I’m suggesting here. That’s my experience, anyway.
- Focusing the energy. Finally, developing and using a set of psychic prayer tools seems to really help with focused prayer, and especially with healing prayer. In Mind Control, this includes having “imaginary” allies to turn to for help, specific ways to visualize focusing your energy—tools, as it were—and practice, especially at visualization in general and visualizing the body in particular. Mind Control spends two whole sessions just teaching anatomy and visualizing organs and systems of the body; this works.
So a “prayer” session works like this: You center down using whatever technique works for you. You greet your allies, if you have them. You gather your tools. You visualize the person you’re working on, and then follow your instincts. Openness rather than forcefulness is the key. The “force” comes from the love, the caring. But the healing comes through rather than from.
Wait in silent expectation until the problem you’re addressing presents itself somehow in your imagination. This can take many forms: pulsing somewhere, discoloration, enlargement—some irregularity in the way the person’s body or organs appear or feel to your imagination.
Then do whatever comes to mind. Maybe you’ll use one of your “tools”. Maybe you’ll ask for your ally’s help. Maybe something else will occur to you. Again, openness rather than forcefulness is the key.
Does this not sound rather Quakerly in spirit, if not in form, that is, in the form of techniques and “tools”?
Healing Circles
Mind Control healing circles work like this: You sit close together in a circle and join hands, left hand up and right hand down. You visualize energy—light—cycling through the circle from left to right, pouring out of yourself into the person on your right and pouring into you from the person on your left. When the facilitator feels the energy is up and running, she asks everyone to visualize it rising in a kind of cone, slowly, until it peaks at a point of convergence above the group in the center. Once this feels solid, then you send it to the person for whom you’re “praying”, whether they are at a distance, or someone sitting in the center of the circle.
Granted, this isn’t something that a group of Friends gathered for meeting for worship would do, unless maybe it’s a rather small meeting. But some meetings do have gatherings or meetings for healing, where this approach might be something to experiment with.
For some Friends, such an approach might feel too technical—too “technique-al”. It might seem like another outward form. It might feel ritualized. Can’t really argue with that. I stopped teaching Mind Control because I eventually felt like my life was too full of tools and I wanted to touch my experience with my bare hands again. But I was teaching it, and using it all the time. Now, it’s as natural feeling as meeting for worship itself, and it’s confined primarily to my daily practice. Like everything else, it becomes easy and natural with practice.
I hope some readers find this useful.
Vocal Prayer
December 13, 2018 § 2 Comments
Of all the changes in the character of silent, waiting worship among liberal Friends, one of the most significant, I think, is the loss of vocal prayer, and it’s among the most invisible or unregarded.
In thirty years of worship among Friends, I may have heard vocal prayer maybe a dozen times in meeting for worship, not counting the somewhat more regular prayers of a Friend in New York Yearly Meeting with whom I’ve worshipped a lot and who has the gift of prayer. I have only prayed out loud in meeting for worship twice myself.
Most liberal Friends, I suspect, don’t miss it. Most of us don’t hold dear a God who is “theistic”, whom one could address as an external sentient being who’s capable of hearing, let alone answering, one’s prayers. For many of us “God”, if the word works for us at all, is a much more amorphous—what? Not being; idea, maybe. Nor do most of us believe in a divine Jesus Christ to whom we might pray.
Instead, we liberal Friends “hold each other in the light”. More about this in a subsequent post.
But, for a sense of what we might be missing, listen to what William Penn has to say about George Fox in his introduction to Fox’s Journal:
“But above all he excelled in prayer. The inwardness and weight of his spirit, the reverence and solemnity of his address and behaviour, and the fewness and fullness of his words, have often struck even strangers with admiration, as they used to reach others with consolation. The most awful, living, reverent frame I ever felt or beheld, I must say was in his prayer. And truly it was a testimony that he knew and lived nearer to the Lord than other men; for they that know him most will see most reason to approach him with reverence and fear.
The lack of vocal prayer in meeting for worship reflects, I suspect, a lack of prayer (understood in the conventional sense) in our personal devotional practices. My dictionary defines prayer as an approach to deity in word or thought and, as I’ve said, I suspect most of us don’t resonate with the “deity” part. We may do something else and call it prayer.
In my own practice, I “pray” and I “meditate”. I’ve been trained in several kinds of meditation and I use several of them quite regularly. And I also pray fairly regularly in the conventional sense of addressing—well, not God, as conventionally understood, as a supreme being, or as the Father of Jesus Christ in the Trinity. I pray to the spirit of Christ, and I communicate with several spiritual allies or companions in a more shamanistic sense.
I am careful to say “spirit of Christ” here because I have no experience of Jesus Christ understood in the conventional sense; that is, as the divine, immortal, resurrected spirit of the biblical Jesus who is still with us today, albeit in heaven, or whatever you call the spirit realm in which the saints and Christ are said to dwell—which definitely isn’t here on the material plane.
That is to say, I’ve experienced something, and I call it the spirit of Christ. I have experienced something transcendental, which has come to me as a sense of presence and as eidetic imagery in the form of some generic devotional wall-painting form of Jesus. The metaphysics of these experiences is a delightful, intriguing mystery to me and I don’t fuss about it too much; I think about it, I have ideas about it, but I don’t take these ideas very seriously—unlike the experiences themselves, which I take very seriously.
So I pray to a “spirit of Christ”, a transcendental sense of presence that has clothed itself in familiar form in my spiritual apperception, and addressing it works for me. It focuses me. It satisfies something in me.
And this is the power of conventional prayer. It feels good, it feels right, somehow, to speak to someone, to communicate in a spiritual relationship that feels like communicating in our other relationships. It comes naturally—if you believe in or sense a “someone” at the other end.
This “spirit of Christ” whom I address is not the only “spirit” I’ve encountered in my journey. There are three others. Let’s call them angels, for want of a better word. They all have in common that they present themselves as beings with whom I can have—and do have—a relationship; they have a kind of personhood, they have moods and personalities. I could say that they are just in my imagination, except that they each have demonstrated their power on my behalf. They have done things that have improved my life, both inwardly and outwardly. Or more accurately, addressing them, bringing them into my devotional life, seems to be associated—causally—with little miracles; or big ones. Changes in my life that I am so grateful for, blessings that I sought and that were delivered, however that actually worked out in the spirit realm.
So I pray.
But these relationships are private, intimate, personal, and it’s complicated to share them with others. So vocal prayer doesn’t come naturally to me. Both times that I’ve prayed aloud in meeting for worship, I had the very rare experience for me of feeling ripped up from my seat, of being under some influence or power, of having hardly any choice in speaking or in what I said.
Did my prayer bring others into the Presence with me? I wonder. I doubt it. But maybe.
In my next post, I want to explore “holding in the light” as our go-to alternative for conventional prayer.
Through the Flaming Sword 