God be in my head,
And in my understanding;
God be in mine eyes,
And in my looking;
God be in my mouth,
And in my speaking;
God be in mine heart,
And in my thinking;
God be at my end,
And in my departing.
—Sarum Primer, 1514
So I had this vision.
I was praying for a sick friend, using a prayer-meditation called the St. Anne’s Chaplet. Chaplets are strings of beads in various configurations, each associated with short, memorized prayers, the Dominican Rosary being the best-known.
I am usually careful not to project my prayers “out there” to some distant God or saint “in heaven,” but to be aware of the presence of the prayed-to with me as I pray. In particular, I make an effort to pray the Hail Mary directly into my own heart, because it, like the “Virgin’s womb,” is where God is born.
But I have lapses, and often catch myself going through the exercise somewhat mechanically. This time, though, I noticed my straying attention. I redirected my attention into my heart—and immediately began to tremble violently all over. As I continued to pray, I saw myself in my mind’s eye burst into flame—harmless fire that did not consume as it burned. And I saw my sick friend, saw myself reaching out to her as the flames leaped from my arms to her, and as we embraced, we were both engulfed in Holy Fire.
When I pray the Lord’s Prayer or a Collect, I direct the prayer toward my own head, the seat of intelligence where the Word finds a home. When lifting up my own needs in prayer, I focus my attention on my hands. When meditating on the Five Wounds of Christ, I visualize the marks of the nails and spear in my own hands, feet, and side, my blood flowing freely from the holes. By aiming my prayer toward my own body in this way, I am able to experience the presence of God with me as I pray, remaining focused and engaged rather than chattering into the void as my mind wanders.
In her autobiography, St. Terésa of Avila wrote,
Christ has no body now but mine. He prays in me, works in me, looks through my eyes, speaks through my words, works through my hands, walks with my feet and loves with my heart.
In my most recollected moments, when I really have my spiritual wits about me, I remember to “invite Jesus into my eyes”—to consciously offer my eyes for Jesus’ use. I do this in crowds, at protests, at parties, in shopping malls and cafés, and among the poor and unsheltered, and the more I do it, the easier I believe it becomes to see others as God sees them. I am more kindly disposed toward anyone, the sight of whom I am offering to Jesus through my eyes.
I also do this in the woods. Jesus may never have seen temperate deciduous forest with his earthly eyes, so I invite him into my eyes and offer up to him the adventure of seeing. The Bhagavad Gita calls this “offering up the objects of sense perception in the fire of the senses” (4:26).
My powers of concentration are poor, and my attention weak, so in using my own body this way in prayer, I am really addressing God through my physical self, in the same way one can use icons as “windows into heaven” through which to see, and be seen by, the divine.
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Your blog post beautifully captures the essence of prayer as a deeply personal and intimate connection with the divine. Your practice of directing prayers towards different parts of your body, imbuing each gesture with profound symbolism and meaning, is truly inspiring. It’s evident that you approach prayer with a genuine desire for closeness to God, and your reflections on inviting Jesus into various aspects of your life offer a refreshing perspective on spirituality.
Your experience of feeling the presence of God within you as you pray is incredibly moving, particularly the imagery of being engulfed in Holy Fire alongside your sick friend. It’s a powerful testament to the transformative power of prayer when approached with mindfulness and intentionality.
Moreover, your incorporation of wisdom from St. Teresa of Avila and the Bhagavad Gita adds depth and richness to your spiritual journey, demonstrating an openness to diverse sources of inspiration and insight.
Thank you for sharing your profound reflections on prayer and spirituality. Your words serve as a reminder to approach prayer with sincerity, mindfulness, and a willingness to invite the divine into every aspect of our lives.