Perfect Prayer

The reason that some people choose not to pray, especially to not pray out loud, is because they don't think it will be good enough. Something I have learned, most especially here at L'arche, is that the perfection of prayer can be found most often in its imperfections.

The worship services here are loud. Coming from a Presbyterian church were loud children are taken out, I wasn't really used to that when I arrived. I got used to it really quickly though, and I have to say that I prefer it. When I head to different churches, I'm constantly surprised by the lack of noise and how empty worship feels without it.

Prayer tends to be remarkably vocal around here, be it loudly praising or something that resembles screaming or laughing. I'm never really sure where that falls into the scheme of clarifications. For those who aren't used to it, it can be mildly frightening. Most of the times when we pray with each other, we don't have to use words. In fact, it is when we don't use words that we say even more.

Non-verbal is a governmental term (which I largely refer to the most bullshit thing the government can use to brand people) that is applied to many people in this community. There is no term that can be used to generalize more and give a less exact understanding of the people here. This term leads people to think that there is no degree of communication. Nothing could be less accurate. It is those who speak the least who are able to teach me the most, whether we realize it or not. I think that one of the most fascinating thing about this place is that those who use no words are able to bring us so close to God.

We have prayer every night after dinner in our homes. Some nights are more interesting than others. Somedays there are rambling prayers and others are very precise. Regardless of how many words we use, or don't use, we still get heard. There are so many things about these prayers that are less than perfect. Sometimes the words aren't there, sometimes they are simply not vocalized, but they are still there.

I got the chance to pray with a friend here on Sunday night. Right now it ranks as the highlight of my week. There were so many things missing from that prayer, so many things that I was afraid to say. We prayed simply in saying what we were most thankful for and what we were least thankful for. I didn't say that I was least thankful for the fact that my mom had to have surgery and is still recovering or that I don't really know what to do with my life next year. I gave thanks for so many things, but I didn't tell him how thankful I was to see him safely back in the community when I walked through the door, or how much it meant to me that we got a chance to talk. I never said that I was thankful to have a friend like him in my life. There were so many imperfections, so many things I wanted to say, but found that I couldn't. What I said was not perfect, although what I wanted to say was. Regardless of how small and insignificant what I had to say was, in offering it, it became perfect. It became prayer because that was the spirit it was offered in and it became perfect because of all it, and I, were and are lacking. Because of all it's imperfections, it became perfect in God's eyes.