You may often hear how important it is for U.S. citizens to return to the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights so we don’t lose sight of the wise but imperfect aspirations that birthed our nation into being. Equally for Christians, reading and praying with scripture keeps us grounded in the profound, self-giving love and forgiveness of Jesus.
How to read the texts is the question. There are those who choose an interpretation of the Gospel to cudgel others. To borrow a phrase from Jesus, it shall not be that way with you.
A spiritual writer I return to now and again, Episcopal Benedictine monk Andrew Marr, suggests that we read scripture slowly, in the company of others, and – most importantly – through the eyes of Jesus. That’s pretty good advice.
Slow is the name of the game. God can reach our hearts despite ourselves, it’s true. But if we want to cooperate, that requires steady attention. You might be surprised how God’s desire can reach your heart with the smallest, simplest phrase from scripture. When that happens, resist the urge to keep reading. Stop and let the Word soak in like spring rains in rich soil.
It also helps to read the scriptures in as diverse a community as possible, and to read the Bible “with” those for whom your prayer is intended. Sometimes you can do that literally. You can pray with family and friends and with your church community – and surely, they are people you love and want to pray for. But because the Body of Christ is bigger and more diverse than our immediate circle of friends, it is good to look beyond ourselves when we pray.
Praying in diverse places and with diverse people is such a gift. I’ve prayed with scripture in the shadow of ancient minarets in the Middle East, in the stillness of the Sonoran Desert, in the steamy mountains of Jamaica, and at the shores of Iona in the wild, west Atlantic. I’ve prayed through and with the cacophony of some of the world’s most populous cities streaming in my windows. I’ve prayed often with sisters and brothers whose languages I do not understand. I’ve prayed with prisoners, and persons on street corners without homes, and with laborers right in my own living room.
Being able to travel is a blessing, but is not required for diversifying those you pray with and for. I’ve also prayed with scripture and in solidarity with members of the Dominican family in Pakistan, Peru and Parchman prison; with a sister in the Solomon Islands, and with heart-in-throat for the safety and wellbeing of sisters and brothers in Myanmar, Ukraine, Ecuador and Algeria without ever having visited those places. It is life-changing to pray through the eyes of others, most of all – in my experience – because it requires us to move through the world in a new way, no longer able to think only of ourselves and our concerns.
We can also pray, as one theologian suggests, with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other, paying attention to the needs of the world, keeping our hearts pliable, and stretching our capacity for compassion.
A profound moment of prayer came unbidden, and literally through the newspaper, a decade or so ago. I was caught off guard by a front-page photo of a person and a place dear to my heart. There, staring back at me from the online edition I was scrolling, was Bishop Butros Moshi, saying Mass at the altar of al-Tahira Church in Bakhdida, Iraq. Light streamed through the bombed-out dome under which I had prayed many times; walls were blackened, windows shattered. The prayer that rose spontaneously in my heart that moment was an odd juxtaposition: relief at seeing proof-of-life of a friend, grief at the condition of a church I’d prayed in often, gratitude for the gift of my relationships in Iraq, and awe at the resilience and faith of people under murderous occupation.
Pope Leo, as Pope Francis did before him, often reminds us that everyone belongs to the Body of Christ. When we allow our hearts to be stretched open in prayer, we become less able to limit who we allow ourselves to “see” in our prayer. This is how we read scripture through Jesus’ eyes. We see through the eyes of the One who chose to identify, not with the violent, militaristic, rivalrous history of his people, but with the suffering of the servant in Isaiah: He was spurned and avoided by men, a man of suffering, knowing pain, like one from whom you turn your face, spurned, and we held him in no esteem.
It is this one, the suffering servant, who wants to pray with us, who wants to open our hearts to the possibility that we too, through selfless love, can bring healing and life to the world.
Sister Beth Murphy, OP, is the communication director for the Dominican Sisters of Springfield.
