When I was training for the priesthood—a course I began ten years ago—a statistic was thrown around concerning how little time the contemporary Church of England priest spends in prayer: 18 minutes a day was the figure given, although I have no record of where that number came from.
So I can, thankfully, claim to be a little above average in my devotions, though not by much; admittedly 18 minutes sound like a very low bar. However, I don’t pray more than an hour a day: I spend a rather dreamy 10 minutes in prayer with a cup of tea when I get out of bed in the morning, attend shared morning prayer online at 9 o’clock (except on Sundays), which lasts a little less than half an hour, and then I make an attempt at something more contemplative in the early evening (along the lines of Centering Prayer); however, this is often more of an aspiration than a practice. So not very impressive.
But then St Augustine came to the rescue! I came across a passage* where he describes reading Scripture as inseparable from prayer itself: to truly read the Word is already to be speaking with God. Eureka! So even spiritual reading counts as prayer – and a bookworm like me can chalk up hours a day with my nose in the right kind of book as prayer time. My average shot up!
Then last week, I came across an article that discusses blogging as a form of prayer (I’ll share that in a separate post). What? So even writing can count as prayer time?
That takes me back to one of my breakthrough moments as a teenager. I had been reading Edward de Bono’s Po: beyond yes or no (back in the late 70s every school boy was reading Edward de Bono: it’s a book that argues that our usual yes/no, logical thinking is too limited for creativity and problem‑solving, and proposes the use of “po” as a deliberate, provocative tool to generate new ideas – an exercise in ‘thinking outside the box’ ante litteram). It was during my first unaccompanied trip to London and I was travelling on the tube: looking around I saw all these people hiding themselves behind newspapers or in books and asked myself – wait for it, here comes my first conscious Po thought – ‘look at all these people reading – why aren’t any of them writing?’. And that’s how I began a life-long practice of journalling. To quote Lermentov’s advice to budding writers, Ни дня без строчки, ‘never a day without a line’
None of this is very clear nor very logical, I know, but it helps to explain why, when I came across the article on blogging as a form of prayer, I was hooked. For more on that, see the next post.
*See Augustine Confessions, esp. Books 9–10, and Letter 130 to Proba
Category: Chaplain’s blog
A miscellany of bits and bobs, mostly church-relatated, from the occasionally reverend Robert Morley
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Why the blog?
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The what if not the why.
Yesterday, somewhat on an whim, I started this blog. Today, I want to talk about my intentions. Who knows, maybe soon I’ll be able to te!l you you I’m doing it.
So what am I hoping to do? To post regularly, that’s for sure – maybe three times a week. I also have an idea of what I’m going to be writing about: my Christian faith and Christian spirituality – that’s the biggie. Then there are my other interests:
- reading (oh what an incorrigible bookworm I am!);
- digital discoveries, tricks, and tips (believe it or not I’m quite a convinced technophile, despite my age);
- food (I like to cook, and after all, I do live in Italy);
- writing (yep, that’s one of my things: I’ve published a novel and collection of poetry, and hope to publish more);
- ‘topography’ is what I suppose I’d call the last; Genoa, this wonderful city where I live, trips to other places, and above all my walks.
Now here’s the thing: if I aim to spend half my time writing about faith-related issue, then alternate those pieces with the other interests, and there being five of them, I could alternate between faith and each of the other interests in turn. I hope that doesn’t sound too mechanistic, and I won’t be sticking to this format ‘religiously’, but it at least it provides me with a sense of direction to get me going…
Finally, it’s time to come clean: I do know why I’m doing this; or at least, what has started me off. I’ll say more about that next time.
