By The Reverend Hanns F. Skoutajan
It is said that there are no atheists in the trenches. Few have gone to the fields of battle or other life threatening situations without a prayer if not on their lips then in their hearts or minds. Chaplains in the forces are important and busy people. Certainly in Afghanistan that is the case.
Prayer is what all religions have in common. Mortals have always sought to communicate or appeal to the Immortal. Unfortunately this has tended to be a one-way conversation as we unburden ourselves of our hopes and fears, our guilt and gratitude. Indeed, so wordy are our prayers that there is little room to hear a reply.
Last year I had occasion to travel with a film crew. One day we found ourselves in a remote region of northern Saskatchewan. We had come to film the venue of my first Canadian home. The wretched log cabin I once upon a time called home no longer stands. We did find my schoolhouse that was abandoned many years ago, the few children of this area are bussed to a consolidated modern school. The wooden structure was surrounded by thick shrubs and weeds. The door stood warped and open and a weathered blackboard hung against the opposite wall.
As we stood there contemplating how to film this remnant of another time, our camera man, a young Czech who had learned English in Australia suddenly grabbed my arm. “Listen!” he said.
I replied, “I can’t hear anything.”
“That’s precisely it,” he whispered, “ there is not an artificial sound to be heard.” something quite unusual for this man of the world.
All the usual noises that accompany our daily living were missing in this remote location. No cars, no machines, no aircraft droning overhead, no radios blasting music, nothing, the silence was deafening. I became aware of the noise that constantly accompanies us.
But more than that, there are also inner noises, the thoughts and dreams that crowd our consciousness. Someone who had had a near death experience commented about the total silence which he encountered. He said he became aware of the pounding of his heart, the rush of air in and out of his lungs, the surging blood throughout the body, now all was still until miraculously consciousness with all its noise resumed. We are beset by sounds within and without.
If the Divinity wants to communicate with us, he/she or whatever, must penetrate a heavy curtain of sound, overcome the cacophony of life. If prayer is more than a oneway conversation then we must learn to listen.
Years ago I had a bout of back pain. I had lifted a heavy suitcase in an awkward manner. Immediately a sharp pain doubled me over. I visited a doctor who prescribed a drug to relax my muscles and take the stress off my spine. She then asked me about my life. I told her about my work. Pastoral counselling exposes one to many burdens. I told her about the recent death of my father, the argument with my mother that left a residue of bad feelings, a job interview that was coming up, and so on. After listening to my litany she said,” Your stress quotient is off the scale.”
Rather than giving me more drugs she suggested that I learn to meditate. In several sessions she instructed me in selfhypnosis which I continue to practice from time to time. What she taught me was to quiet myself, to shut out the noise within and without. I didn’t know it then, but she had taught me how to pray.
Ancient oriental religions such as Buddhism, much older than the three monotheistic faiths, Judaism, Christianity and Islam, practice meditation. We have much to learn from them without abandoning our faiths.
God knows our needs, our pains, better than we know ourselves. We need not pester the Divinity as we did our parent as a child. We need rather to listen for the sound of "the Ground of Being". The divine language is not merely Latin, Hebrew or Old English. The omniscient Spirit communicates in many ways.
Be still and listen, find time be alone. The Spirit is a’ movin’ …
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