Carthusian Dom Augustin Guillerand's THE PRAYER OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD

[Shin]

Excerpts from. . .

PART I: TRUE PRAYER

1 - Movement Towards Him Who Is

ST. JOHN DAMASCENE's definition of prayer is well known. "Prayer," he says, "is asking God for what is fitting." We must probe this thought thoroughly, draw from the words their substance, separate its parts and, having done so, restore them to the deep life of this substance which sustains them and gives then life.

This definition of prayer falls, then, into two parts which are, as it were, its matter and form. Prayer is an asking, but an asking of God, and consequently bears the impress of him to whom it is addressed.

We can ask God only for what he wants us to ask of him, and he can will only what is conformable to his will. Now since God is one of the `terms' of prayer-that is, we pray to him-and since he is infinite Order, prayer is a request essentially "ordered," in other words consonant with the order of God himself. What is that order? It is what he is-Being himself: that Being from whom, by whom, and for whom all things are.(Cf. John 1.3 and Col. 1.16) He is our Beginning and our End.(Apoc. 1.8.) He is the light of our mind and the strength of our will. He is Truth, Goodness and Beauty unalloyed, the source of all joy and the ocean of all life.

What is "fitting," therefore - what we must ask God for - is himself; to be united with him, to be transformed in him: to possess him and to be possessed by him. We should ask to enter, by grace, into such intimate relations with him as unite us to him; to become his sons by a communication as complete as possible of his Spirit of Love; to share in that joy and in that life which is his joy and his life: in short, to share in joy itself and Life itself. The Scriptures are full of this prayer, which is constantly bubbling up like water-springs on a high mountain. "The Lord is the portion of my inheritance, says the Psalmist (Ps. 15.5) ... For what have I in heaven, and besides thee what do I desire upon earth ... Thou art the God of my heart, and my portion for ever."(Ps. 72, 25-6).

. . . Now there are two kinds of means which lead to this desired union. The one clears the way of obstacles, the other puts us in touch with the object of our love. We pray to God to keep us from all that might separate us from him or delay our union; at the same time, we ask for what will bring about that union. It is vices and sins that separate, temptations that can hold us up. To obtain the mastery of them, therefore, should be the first object of our prayer, and we must not make light of this. Those who are proud or only (and more often) simple and inexperienced, content themselves with asking for union; many, indeed, try to live that union immediately. It does not occur to them that there is danger here. The enemy's blows, they say, cannot touch them. They consider themselves immune, whereas they are simply ignorant and blind. It would be an exaggeration to say that they are endangering their salvation, but they are very much exposed to mark time, and to become paralyzed.

The first act of light is to be separated from darkness (Cf. Genesis 1.4: [God] divided the light from the darkness), and to light up all that it touches. It shines and is visible; it lights up the way and the end only in so far as it separates itself and the other objects from the night. When it emerges from the darkness and wrests a soul from it, the light reveals to that soul the love that has given it being and action. It is now that the Holy Spirit makes his power felt. He draws the soul to himself, and awakens a reciprocal movement toward union. He causes virtues to flourish in the soul, communicating his own dispositions to it, and becomes the hidden cause of all its activity. He prays in it, adores in it, utters cries of love, and pours himself forth in the most wonderful colloquies and unspeakable groanings (Romans 8.26), repeating unceasingly : "Abba, Father."(Romans 8.15 and Gal. 4.6).

St. Augustine's definition of prayer suggests the same thought. "Prayer is a devout movement of the soul towards God," he says, thus putting into words what must have been most certainly his own form of prayer. In all movement there are two terms-the one from which we set out, the other towards which we tend. When we pray, one of the terms does not exist: it is `nothingness', or rather it is a being who exists solely by him towards whom it tends. To let our gaze, therefore, rest on this nothingness as on an end, is foolish. By not looking at ourselves we are, by that very fact continually moving in the direction of our true end, which is God, and our prayer is continuous and one which realizes our divine Master's command "to pray always." (Luke 18.1 and 21.38).

2 - Prayer the Duty of Every Moment

PRAYER is the duty of every moment. 'We ought always to pray, said our Lord.(Luke 18.1) And what he said, he did: therein lay his great power. Action always accompanied his words, and corresponded with them.

We must pray always in order to be on our guard (Matt. 26.41). Our life both of body and soul, our natural and supernatural life, is like a fragile flower. We live surrounded by enemies. Ever since man rejected the light that was meant to show him the way (John 1.5), everything has become for us an obstacle and a danger: we live in the shadow of death (Luke 1.79 and Ps. 106.10).

Instead of pointing to the Creator and leading us to him, things show only themselves, with the result that we stop at them. The devil, to whom we stupidly gave them when we gave him ourselves, speaks to us through their many voices; his shadow darkens their transparence. Beyond their attractive forms we no longer seek the beauty they reflect, but merely the pleasure and satisfaction they are able to offer us.

But the enemy is not only at our door, he is even more within us. And he is at our door, because he is within us. It is we who have invited him in. In turning towards him, we have turned the whole universe away from God. This is why the world is against us. It is inimical, hostile to us, and not without reason. Through the world and by it, we have let war loose within ourselves and in everything. This is only what one would expect, but it is terrible all the same.

What a profound definition of peace is St. Augustine's! Above all, in these days, when the world is convulsed to its center (Translator's Note: These words were written during the second world War), when men and things (the latter through men) serve only to kill and destroy, how necessary it is to ponder well these words, the very sound of which is full of the calm they express: Peace is the tranquillity of order. Order means that everything is in its proper place. God made men superior to all things (Cf. Genesis 2.15), and all things turned to God as to their source, to receive from him their being moment by moment, and to thank him and bless him. That was the way God acted, and this is his order and his peace. It was this that fundamentally constituted the terrestrial Paradise, and will one day be the heavenly Paradise for those who have understood and taken up again this attitude (Genesis 3 passim).

I remember seeing once a frightened and hunted animal that had lost its way. It rushed through an open gate that led into a garden full of flowers, with what disastrous results can be imagined. This is an image, though a very imperfect one, of a soul when it allows the wild beast of the world to enter into it, ever since our first parents turned away from God and listened to the voice of the Tempter. As a consequence, we live in a country occupied by the enemy, and it is our business to drive him out of it; to turn away from him and turn back to God, and so secure our liberty. And we have to do this without any armed or organized forces; with our faculties in disorder, our strength impaired, and surrounded by enemies on all sides or by those who are indifferent to out lot.

No greater helplessness could be imagined, had we not God. And that is why prayer is so necessary, and why our Lord had to tell us so insistently to pray, and to pray always. Hence, too, his saying which can seem so overwhelming: "Without me, you can do nothing"(John 15.5), as well as his invitation so consoling and comforting: Come to me...(Matt. 11.28).

Prayer is the soul's response to that invitation. It comes; it makes known its wretchedness, it pleads for help, for light for the mind and strength for the will. It asks for grace to bring its passions under the control of its higher will, and to submit that will to God, who is order and peace. And God says to the soul: "I am and always will be a Father: I love you and await your coming ... Come!" And the soul replies: "My God, I can do no more. Do you come to me."

[Shin]

Let me add that this truly bears reading, every paragraph of the above. I will cite more as time allows.

[Brigid]

I'll be waiting. Thank you.

[martin]

But the enemy is not only at our door, he is even more within us. And he is at our door, because he is within us. It is we who have invited him in. In turning towards him, we have turned the whole universe away from God. This is why the world is against us. It is inimical, hostile to us, and not without reason. Through the world and by it, we have let war loose within ourselves and in everything. This is only what one would expect, but it is terrible all the same.

The real war truly is within.. I even ask St Michael now to do battle not only with the enemy without but with my own self will.. I say to him, "How dare I with my self will stand proudly before God and like the enemy say, I will not serve."   Then I say over and over again, WHO IS LIKE UNTO GOD .

Lord protect us from ourselves. 

[Brigid]

Amen!

[Shin]

Why We Must Pray

THE reasons for praying are as numerous as they are imperative. They correspond to all our needs without exception, and to all occasions. They are also in accord with the favours we receive in answer to our prayers and to God's rights over his creatures.

Our divine Master's word has explored and lighted up everything, our human world and God's world. He revealed the powerlessness of the first when he said: Without me, you can do nothing (John 15.5).

We have read these words often enough, but without penetrating them. We no more understand the `nothing' than we do the `All'. The nature of our being does not allow us to understand it. We do not look at our tiny being as it actually is in the light of the `All'. We do not compare the hours of our life, so short and transient, with God's changeless eternity. We do not see the place we occupy in the universe as compared to his immensity, which infinitely overflows our tiny universe, and could embrace numberless others, far greater than ours. Above all, we forget that our being is not ours. Moment by moment we receive the tiny drop of being that God designs to give us. The only reason we have it is because he gives it to us; and having received it, immediately it begins to dissolve; it slips through our fingers and is replaced by another which escapes us with the same rapidity. All this being comes from God and returns to him; it depends upon him alone. We are like vessels into which he pours that being drop by drop, so as to create a bond of dependence upon him, whereby his Being is manifested and made known and, when lovingly welcomed, is glorified.

Prayer is this intelligent vessel, which knows, loves, thanks and glorifies. It says, in effect:

My God, the present moment and the light by which I am aware of it, comes from you. My mind, which appreciates it; the upward leaping of my heart which responds to that recognition and thanks you for it; the living bond created by this moment-all is from you. Everything comes from you. All that is within me, all that is not you; all created beings and their movements; my whole being and its activities all is from you. Without you nothing exists; apart from you is just nothingness; apart from your Being there is merely non- existence.

How this complete dependence, upon which I have so often and so deeply meditated, ought to impress me! I feel that it plunges me into the depths of reality, into truth. Nevertheless, it does not completely express that reality. There was a time when this nothingness rose up in opposition to 'Him who is'. It wanted to be independent of him; it put itself forward, refused to obey him and cut itself off from him. It made war on him and became his enemy. It destroyed his image in the heart's citadel where hitherto he had reigned, and usurped his throne. These are only metaphors, and they do not do justice to the real horror of the plight created by sin; but we must be content with them, as they are all we have. We must remember, however, that they are completely inadequate.

And every day we add to this predicament, already so grave. Every personal sin of ours is an acceptance of this state: we choose it, we love it and prefer it to union with God. We lap up, as it were, these sins like water. We take pleasure in plunging into them as into a stream, the waters of which rise persistently, and in time overwhelm us and carry us away. They toss us about like a straw, and submerge us. Thoughts, feelings, words, really bad acts and innumerable omissions fill our days and nights, and intermingle, more or less consciously, with our every movement, and at all hours. They spoil the purity of our ordinary actions such as eating and drinking; they introduce themselves into our sleep and mix with our waking movements, and with our external acts as with our most intimate thoughts. Because of our fallen state, everything becomes matter and occasion to drag us down further into evil.

[Shin]

I added the italics to the above.

"Moment by moment we receive the tiny drop of being that God designs to give us. "

This I truly can just appreciate in silence.

[martin]

There was a time when this nothingness rose up in opposition to 'Him who is'. It wanted to be independent of him; it put itself forward, refused to obey him and cut itself off from him. It made war on him and became his enemy. It destroyed his image in the heart's citadel where hitherto he had reigned, and usurped his throne. These are only metaphors, and they do not do justice to the real horror of the plight created by sin; but we must be content with them, as they are all we have. We must remember, however, that they are completely inadequate.

What a tragedy that every day, somewhere along the line my will stands in opposition to God.
Just one little sin as spoken about in the other thread is beyond imagining and how little account I take of my many sins. Be ye perfect the Lord commanded.
The many times I do my own selfish will I can magine St Micheal with a thundering voice shouting, "Who is like unto God."
The angels must be barely able to look upon the horror of a human being doing his own will.

How patient and merciful God must be.

[Shin]

How this complete dependence, upon which I have so often and so deeply meditated, ought to impress me! I feel that it plunges me into the depths of reality, into truth.

How unutterable and endless is God!

 

[Brigid]

Every personal sin of ours is an acceptance of this state: we choose it, we love it and prefer it to union with God. We lap up, as it were, these sins like water. We take pleasure in plunging into them as into a stream, the waters of which rise persistently, and in time overwhelm us and carry us away.

That really is so scary to realize. It puts a whole new light on the examin of conscience.

[Shin]

A Dangerous Fire

THERE is in the soul of man a fire of concupiscence constantly burning, inherited from our first parents. It spreads its noxious heat to the soul's powers; it gives rise to sensuality in the flesh under a thousand varying forms; to error and illusion in the mind, so that we mistake what is not for the God who is. It causes us to seek as our good what in fact draws us away from it, while the will finds itself drawn to the transient pleasures offered us by our senses, leaving us powerless to follow its deeper urge to seek its true spiritual good. In the course of time, successive generations have greatly increased these tendencies, whilst our personal sins add to the burden daily. As a result, our whole being has been reduced to a state of disorder and anarchy, from which we continue to suffer so long as we retain any sense of order and discipline. We can unfortunately end up by becoming more or less accustomed to this state of affairs, and this is the worst misery of all.

We walk on a downward and dangerous slope, and have done so ever since we were born. All our energies are inclined towards evil, and are drawn by it. Our mind is distorted and no longer faithfully reflects the truth. All too readily, ignorance, the love of falsehood and vain curiosities find a welcome in it. Our will is weakened and no longer takes command. Badly enlightened by the mind enticing it in wrong directions, and carried away by unchecked passions inflamed by external objects, at every moment it is mastered by servants who have ceased to obey, if they have not actually gone so far as to subject the will entirely to their caprices.

What hope is there for us without help from on high, opposing its higher movement to this lower movement? We must pray, therefore, for this aid that we need so badly; f or the forgiveness of our sins, and f or that true contrition which blots them out. We must pray for the graces of expiation which offers all the reparation of which we are capable, and for that charity which gives us new life. We must have the courage to welcome that divine light which shows up our sins, more numerous than the sands of the shore, weighing us down with their load and crushing us like the suffocating air which presages a storm. Like the snows of an avalanche and the rocks they bring with them, our sins pile up one on the other, erecting a barrier between the soul and heaven, until we forget that there is a heaven at all! We must pray that we may realize all the horror of one single sin, and the great number of which we have been guilty. We must ask for that frightening light which reveals them all-the sins we have committed knowingly and those, far more numerous, which we have committed almost unconsciously, just as we take in the germs which fill the air we breathe.

[Shin]

A frightening passage!

God help us! God help us to pray, to truly reform, to truly repent and recant and expiate, with true contrition our sins! To seek out our fearful, hidden sins, in the light.. and become new creations..

Holy Mary, pray for us!

[Brigid]

Holy Mary, pray for us!

She will.

[martin]

O Jesus!  Deep abyss of mercy, I beg of Thee, in memory of Thy Wounds which penetrated to the very marrow of Thy Bones and to the depth of Thy being, to draw me, a miserable sinner, overwhelmed by my offenses, away from sin and to hide me from Thy Face justly irritated against me, hide me in Thy Wounds, until Thy anger and just indignation shall have passed away.  Amen  


By the intercession of St Michael and the celestial Choir of Cherubim, may the Lord vouchsafe to grant us grace to leave the ways of wickedness to run in the paths of Christian perfection.  Amen  

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,
have mercy on me a sinner!  

[Patricia]

Original sin bogs us down while on earth, but God in His great mercy has given his poor children several means of grace to overcome this evil, the Mass, Sacraments, prayer ( Rosary), intercession of Saints etc etc.....We have so much to be thankful for

[Shin]

The Deeper Search

THE saints and spiritual writers constantly return to this idea of the disorder within us, which is the consequence of sin, and they are right in doing so. Like them, I repeat: Life is not literature. Before we can assimilate anything, we have to turn it over in our minds again and again. To take in and to assimilate is a slow process. The mind has to concentrate on its object a long time, if it is to take on its form and live it.

This object is a positive one: it is God, the ideal form and the perfect model. But it is also, on the other hand, all that is opposed to his pure image, and to his communication of life. God wants to transform us into sons of light, but he finds us children of darkness. He wants his Spirit, the Spirit of Love, who is the Gift of Self, to live in us, but he finds us possessed by another spirit which is the love of self. This negative element, which surrounds only after a struggle, must disappear. Life is a battle, a battle between God and the spirit of evil. When a soul ceases to fight, it may be counted as hopelessly lost. And a soul that does not pray is one that has given in without a struggle. It possesses a kind of peace, but it is the peace of an occupied territory, conquered by the invader and resigned to his domination.

What we find blameworthy in spiritual writers is not that they insist on this too much, but that they do not insist on it enough. We are living in an age of knowledge rather than of understanding. Pure reasoning and memory hold the day. The whole object of so much of our writing is to satisfy these cravings, to provide men with ideas rather than to enrich their souls and deepen their lives. It is the fashion today to write popular works and articles in magazines for people living in the world. They must know everything, and be able to talk about the latest book or the most recent discovery. Men's minds are like those artificial floral displays we see on festive occasions. We arrange beautiful flowers, which we enjoy without having cultivated them. We do not even know their names and by the morrow we have forgotten all about them.

With prayer it is not just a matter of having read and realized for the moment its necessity, its grandeur, the immense blessings it confers, its increasing comfort, the glory it gives to God and its mission to the world. We must return to these thoughts again and again; we must constantly reflect on them and live them. This is what the Holy Spirit does in the Scriptures, what the Church does in its offices, and the saints in their daily prayers and constant meditations. We must continually look for the essential Beauty behind the external beauty of things. We must turn from the weakness of our fallen nature to the strong tenderness of the Son of God, who became our Redeemer and is ever ready to receive us back into his favour. We must turn from the perpetual menace of the devil and of the world which hangs over us, to the unfailing help which is offered us by our Savior, whose great desire is to rescue us from their tyranny.

Our principal danger is a spiritual one, the danger of losing our true life; all other dangers are directed towards this. They are the various ways in which each of us may be put to the test. We must pray, therefore, before all else, that God may live in us and we in him. We must pray that our trials may contribute to that divine life, which is the only true life and the only true good. We may ask that God will in his goodness preserve us from persecutions, injustices, calumnies, attacks of one kind and another on our interests and rights, illnesses of body and mind- but always subject to the designs of his love, which must be out chief rule in all we ask for.

In his loving plan, God has foreseen that we must be tested, but he knows also that the patience with which we bear such trials in union with our divine Lord can prove an exceptionally rich and pure source of merit and of grace to expiate our sins. He knows that our natural and supernatural growth (the latter bringing the former within its scope) will in general be proportioned to such trials, and that the divine image, the reflection of the model of infinite Beauty, will shine resplendent in us as a result of these trials. In spite of myself, I return to these thoughts again and again; they do not exclude others, but they seem to me to embrace and assimilate them.