At moments I have found my heart and mind returning to Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s poem: Who Am I?Upon these occasions, as I consider my actions or relational patterns, in rough paraphrase I reiterate his sentiment:
“[Is] something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?”[1]
With Bonhoeffer I have wondered: Why am I down, O’ my soul, when a quick rehearsal can enumerate the many blessing that are mine? Of course, the differences between my circumstances and those of Bonhoeffer are great, like a yawning chasm: he had been imprisoned by the Gestapo, charged as a traitorous conspirator; whereas I might simply be frustrated, because my computer is misbehaving.
On other occasions, I have echoed his lament:
“[Am] I only what I know of myself …
weary and empty at praying, at thinking …?”[2]
And yet, here too I have recognized the great existential distance between us: alone in his cell, facing death, a German winter seeping through the crevices of his confinement; whereas I might sense that my moments of prayer are hurried, less than fulfilling, my heart and mind distracted, but certainly not the dehumanizing grind of prison fare.
For causes not Bonhoeffer’s, I nonetheless have observed that my sense of defeat and empty at praying are interconnected; and because of this connection, I have given thought to Jesus’ prayer life. As I have done so, I have been reminded that in Mark’s Gospel only three times do we read that Jesus prayed: Mark 1:35, 6:46, and 14:32. Each of these three alludes to His wrestling with His identity and/or specifically the Cross before Him; otherwise, we do not see or hear Him pray.
Does that mean that Jesus was fundamentally an activist, a loving and caring activist, but nonetheless an activist – too busy to pray? I think not (and here I’m not seeking to erect a “straw-man”); rather, when I feel defeated and weary at praying, I need to remember that “prayer” is not an activity or a ritual. No, I need to remember that prayer is relational, that it is an ongoing conversation with the Person, to whom I can confess: “I feel defeated; I feel empty and weary. Lord, just who am I?” But of course, if such I confide, I need to listen for a reply; for if prayer is anything, it is a two-way conversation.
Faithfully,
Stan
[1] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1968), p. 189.
[2] Ibid.