Kind of like love, the word prayer covers a lot of territory. Some consider it a form of petition – a request that may or may not be granted. Some have suggested that prayer is talking to God, while meditation is listening. Some describe it as an act of mystical communion. Some consider it magical thinking – a time-honored, reliable placebo.
If prayer is nothing but a placebo, I’ll add that it’s the best one I’ve ever tried. But I think it’s a lot more than that, and that those who’ve attempted to scientifically prove or disprove prayer fail to appreciate the vast complexity of the topic.
How vast? Prayer, in all its facets, might be considered an expression of the basic component of human nature known as desire. Every desire, every aspiration, is a prayer of sorts. One could say that, in some shape or form, everybody is praying, ceaselessly.
Aside from being complex, prayer is also controversial, in that it suggests the existence of a God. But even if prayers are “answered”, we don’t really know by whom. Some suggest that prayers are actually answered by our higher selves, leading to debates about the nature of these “selves”. My theories here are intentionally vague, and this post is full of scare quotes, because I won’t even pretend to understand how all this works; but it seems that if you mix consciousness, will, and desire, you have a prayer – or actually, an infinite variety of prayers.
Petitionary prayers, where one presents God with a list of desires, are probably the most commonly thought of; and everyone understands that these frequently fail to achieve their aim. Scientists have confirmed this, but what would be really helpful is if they could explain why some prayers do seem to work. I pray to get better at praying.
Of course most any prayer will produce a psychological benefit for the practitioner, measurable in lowered stress levels, etc., but how do we explain results of prayer that apparently fall outside the bounds of biochemistry or imagination? My theory is that “higher help” is in fact constantly being offered, whether we ask for it or not, but that it comes in myriad forms from myriad sources, only sometimes aligning with our idea of “success”. The Genie wants you to rub the lamp; but what happens in reality is far more complicated than in the fable.
Scientific surveys of petitionary prayer, meanwhile, struggle to find a “control group”, which we might have to define as a group with no desire. The experiments I’ve read about all involved medical events – the one thing most guaranteed to inspire prayers from anyone remotely involved. Who in these tests was not being prayed for? They say there are no atheists on a battlefield, and this world is, in a sense, one big battlefield. Is there a point of fervor when a hope becomes an official prayer? Or does God in fact know each of our hopes?
This entire line of inquiry, though, is based on a single limited concept of prayer. In my understanding, prayer, in its highest sense, lies almost entirely outside the realm of the material, in both its practice and its effects, so may never be testable by material means. If the truest prayer is a mountain, petitionary prayers are the foothills.
So what is a “true prayer”? I’d suggest that it’s an activity of the soul, roughly analogous to breathing. If you don’t believe that a person has a soul, or is a soul, this description presents a hurdle or a roadblock; but if you can conceive of a part of you that exists outside of the material, imagine it “breathing”.
As I “understand” it, we each are, in essence, a soul – the mind, emotions, and body being manifestations and emanations of a core nonmaterial “self”. Most of us are so thoroughly identified with our material manifestations that we’ve all but forgotten about our souls. But when you say “I”, you’re ultimately referring to your soul – an entity whose composition, location, and origin is, to me at least, a complete mystery.
Scientists might balk at such a claim, maintaining that the “self” exists somewhere in the brain, maybe in the pineal gland or something, but they’ve yet to actually locate it. Perhaps as science continues to uncover the “spooky” nature of material reality itself, it will become more comfortable with the idea that our consciousness doesn’t exist solely in the molecules of the brain, but is rather like a computer which exists partly in the cloud.
Even amongst metaphysicians, there’s controversy on this topic, some maintaining that the discrete “self” doesn’t actually exist – that we’re all ultimately manifestations of one ocean of consciousness. In this view, soulful prayer is an illusion or waste of time, because the soul doesn’t need to pray to something it’s already part of. We need only still the mind and emotions, using meditation, mantras, etc., to become aware of our essential oneness with God and the universe.
Philosophers in India and Asia have espoused this view for millennia, and Deepak Chopra has written 91 books to make sure we understand it, but another tradition, promoted by the popular author Jesus of Nazareth, seems to disagree. Jesus describes a self that needs to actively seek and imbibe of the divine – not just through stillness, but through some form of volition. The air is there, but we need to breathe it.
Ever the Libra, my wish would be to find an explanation that pleases the scientists, metaphysicians, and Christians – but don’t mind me; I’m just the janitor. It may be, though, that we’re just tripping over semantics or details: Chopra eloquently explains how science and metaphysics are quite compatible; and, while prayer and meditation seem to be two different things, they’re not inherently incompatible. Maybe one can be a prayerful meditating scientist.
The question of our existence as discrete nonmaterial souls seems to be crucial, though – you can’t pray soulfully if you don’t have a soul. On this question, I find the evidence of “spirits” – of individual personalities, replete with memories, seeming to persist independently of their bodies – to be compelling. But it seems that we each start out life with an awareness of our soul and its immortality, and in the process of growing up, unlearn what we knew. Spending time with a child is a good way to rediscover one’s soul. Such a soul might be, as Chopra suggests, connected to a universal consciousness, yet it possesses, and seems to retain, a discrete identity, distinct from the oversoul of God. I like to think of us as godlets.
Hawaiian kahunas have described prayer as a transfer of energy from the soul, through the “aka cord”, to the body. Others have described prayer as a transfer of energy from God, the oversoul, to the human soul. I’m guessing that, ideally, it’s both. Such a prayer, completing the entire circuit from the soul of God straight through to our bodies, might be uncommon – a home run, as it were. There may be those who, through talent and practice, have gotten good at it, but most of our prayers are probably more like base hits or walks. Maybe not as dramatic, but they still count.
I don’t claim to understand aka cords, and may never have personally hit a “home run”, so try to keep it simple: As physical breath keeps a body healthy and invigorated, true prayer makes the soul more alive and powerful, which in turn benefits every part of our being. Though taking place in a nonmaterial realm, such prayer is substantial, involving will and volition. It may be that, in the stillness of meditation, through the transcendent power of the holy now, the soul is automatically activated, and instinctively breathes, but it seems that Jesus was encouraging us to do this with intention.
In Christianity, there’s a close connection between prayer and the “Holy Spirit”. The Eastern Orthodox churches in fact teach that a central goal of Christian life is to obtain the holy spirit through prayer. In the Gospels, Jesus likens the holy spirit to the wind. When we ask for and receive this “holy wind”, our souls are breathing. Seeking and receiving the holy spirit for the first time would be analogous to a baby’s first breath.
It may be that meditation eventually achieves the same goal, and maybe even does a better job of it. Certainly many people swear by meditation, and questioning the wisdom of the Buddha is far beyond my pay grade; but for me, active soulful prayer seems to work best – or at least quickest. But, for the most advanced practitioners, prayer and meditation ultimately seem to be one and the same – both leading to a state of continuous holy ecstasy.
In my more modest experience, seeking and receiving the holy spirit sometimes produces tangible physical effects which, even if a “placebo”, seem to exceed the effectiveness of any medicine imaginable. I feel an inflow of energy from the top of my head – though many describe it entering through their heart, as in Catholic imagery – which then flows to any part of my body needing healing. There may be a strictly psychological explanation for this, but we may need to expand our definition of “psychology” to make that true. In lay terms, this healing effect feels a bit like a miracle.
An equally profound, though perhaps more subtle, apparent effect of the holy spirit is a sense of harmony and connectedness – a feeling of being “in the zone”, or, in Christianspeak, “in the Spirit”. Like iron filings on a magnet, there’s a sense of being aligned with larger forces, where one routinely finds oneself in the right place, at the right time, unexpectedly in a position to give or receive needed help. Jung termed this aligning force synchronicity, but its joy-producing aspect is better described by the word serendipity. Prayer for the holy spirit seems to produce endless beneficial ripple effects.
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A “foothill”, or petitionary prayer, on the other hand, emanates more from the mind than the soul – something of a different beast altogether. In considering such “conversations with God”, it should be remembered that God is, scientifically speaking, an undefined term – both practically and theoretically, a mystery. The ancient Hebrews referred to God obliquely as “The Name”, as if to say, Don’t even try to understand this with your mind.
Still, we converse. As I understand it, though, our conversations aren’t just with God, but also with her “angels” – by which I mean any of our guardian spirits who may be “listening in” on our prayers. If we petition the Lord for victory in a ball game, say, it’s these guardian spirits who might actually try to answer that prayer. Meanwhile, the guardian spirits of the opposing team will be doing the same.
As I understand it, these “angels” are simply people who’ve passed over – frequently our ancestors, often close relatives. The connections of our family tree aren’t severed by death. But we can also establish rapport with other spirits: I sincerely believe that Ben Franklin is one of my spirit friends.
Mr. Franklin would probably chime in here that none of this is “miraculous” – it’s just the natural workings of laws we don’t yet understand.
A God that knows the number of hairs on our head, and who understands our needs better than we do, should be able to offer some concrete help in response to our worldly problems; but these sorts of prayers are, you might say, delegated. The power of these guardian spirits shouldn’t be underestimated, though. When we pray for physical healing, it appears that these spirits are instrumental in the “miracles” that sometimes result, directly conveying healing energies to us. Mortals with extraordinary healing powers – Jesus, for instance – are probably assisted by a large team of helping spirits. Beyond that, these spirits can be the best therapists, advisors, and friends one could wish for.
Conversational or petitional prayer, then, is a complex topic. The motives and condition of the person praying, as well as that of of their spirit associates, need to be considered. It might be difficult even to identify a “successful” prayer, since it seems that our prayers are often answered in completely unexpected ways. And of course, if we’re praying for the entirely wrong thing, perceived failure might actually be success.
I prefer the idea of conversational prayer over petitionary prayer, as it suggests humility, an understanding that we might need to receive advice as well as offer it. But in my experience, the real power of prayer comes from venturing beyond these foothills. Jesus, throughout the New Testament, is a proponent of prayer; but it’s for us to figure out exactly what he’s promoting. He clearly explains what it isn’t – displays of sanctimony, rites and recitations – but has a harder time explaining what it is. I think that’s because prayer, in its highest form, is ineffable. It’s a conversation with God, but wordless. We can try to use words to describe it – desire, surrender, love, communion, rebirth – but the actual experience takes place in a realm beyond ideas and thoughts.
Jesus is clear, though, about prayer’s importance – “…seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” He suggests we go to a private place – a “closet” – to pray. In the course of a day, there might be many private moments one can employ – stopped at a traffic light, washing the dishes, watching cat videos. At some point, such prayers might come to feel as natural as breathing.
As an addendum, I can imagine Jesus offering this advice: Stop the holiness competitions – both personal and institutional. We can all help each other, but any version of “holier than thou” is a tragi-comic distraction, a losing of the plot. We are all precious godlets, beloved by our creator; and it may be that no one ever has, or even ever will reach the limits of their potential. Our identity as Christian, Muslim, Hindu, or Atheist has no impact on this potential; and we can scarcely assess our own level of enlightenment, much less anyone else’s. In practice, this means that each person I meet is potentially a guru, or the returned Christ.
The good news is that in the presence of God (i.e. Love), competition stops. Someday we may reach that promised land where everyone fully and truly loves one another; in the meantime, we might sometimes need to claim our personal space. You need no one’s permission or intercession to receive the holy spirit. Let no one come between you and God.
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