Reaching for the hand that already holds yours

Praying with beads

I’ve just been on retreat at The Society of St. John the Evangelist (SSJE), an Episcopal monastery in Cambridge, Massachusetts where I’ve been an associate for over 35 years.  With Brother Curtis Almquist as our leader, a small group of us have been pondering and praying with the Psalms.  On our first day, we also talked about praying with beads. And although some of you already use them, it occurred to me that others of you might like to learn how beads can be an aid to deepening attention and allowing verses from our sessions of Lectio Divina to sink more deeply into your being.

When I was first learning about ancient ways of contemplative prayer, I learned that every enduring religion in the world has some practice of praying with beads.  Western Christians are most familiar with the rosary.  But Eastern Orthodox use a chotki or prayer rope – a string of knots that function in a similar way to the rosary’s string of beads.  This tactile dimension of contemplative or meditative prayer can facilitate a deepening of inner silence and stillness, making us more open and available to God “who is closer to us than we are to ourselves,” as St. Augustine said.

What spiritual masters have known for centuries is that what we do with our bodies can have a profound effect on the disposition of our souls. In C.S. Lewis’ classic book, The Screwtape Letters, a senior devil, Screwtape, is coaching an apprentice devil, Wormwood, on how to tempt his “patient” most effectively.  In one letter, Screwtape tells Wormwood that he should do everything he can to keep his patient from praying. But if that can’t be helped, promote the idea that what the patient does with his body during prayer doesn’t really matter, “for they constantly forget, what you must always remember, that they are animals and that whatever their bodies do affects their souls.”

The point is that we are not angels or pure spirits.  We are fidgety human beings, easily distracted and drawn every which way in our minds, which keeps us from deep prayer.  All the enduring religions of the world have understood this, and each of them has a practice of using prayer beads to give the distracted mind and fidgety body something to do, to center us and focus our attention, so that we may finally “descend with the mind into the heart” where God waits for us.

The slow, repetitious fingering of prayer beads, with a verse of Scripture sounding in our hearts on each bead, can have the effect of stilling the mind and opening the heart more completely to the God who loves us more than we can imagine.  I recommend trying the use of prayer beads – I’ll talk about this in Contemplative Chapel. It’s especially nice to find beads that fit discreetly in your pocket or purse.

Sometimes, however, you’re just not going to feel like praying.  You’re going to be too tired, or you won’t feel as if you have the time, or you’ll be in such a state of upset, distress, or loneliness that you’ll feel like all you can do collapse. On some days, all you will want to do is cry.  Sometimes, let’s face it, we can become so devastated or get so worked up that it’s hard to imagine being able to pray at all.  That’s when a small string of prayer beads in your pocket can be just what you need.  Just hold onto it.  A famous spiritual guide, Caryll Houselander, once said, “Sometimes I find it the one strengthening and comforting thing to reach into my pocket and find my rosary there.  It’s like finding your mother’s hand in the dark.”

I’ve held onto that image – finding your mother’s hand in the dark.  When I first read that decades ago, I started carrying around a string of prayer beads.  Sometimes, in a waiting room or on a bus or subway, for example, I would pull out my beads, unseen and unnoticed by anyone around me, and silently repeat on each bead, in sync with my breathing, a verse from the Psalms or the Gospel.  And when I was stressed or worried about what I was going to find when I was called to see a patient in the ICU or emergency room of a hospital, I might just reach into my pocket and hold them. Such tiny rituals can open us to a Presence that is always with us, even while our minds are restless with anxiety or upset.

“Like finding your mother’s hand in the dark.”  I still find that meaningful.  And on the first day of my recent retreat at SSJE, Curtis gave us several psalms to ponder.  Inexplicably, I was drawn to three verses of a psalm that I do not remember noticing before:

When my mind became embittered,*
    I was sorely wounded in my heart.

I was stupid and had no understanding;*
    I was like a brute beast in your presence.

Yet I am always with you;*
    you hold me by my right hand.

(Psalm 73:21-23)

How wonderful. “You hold me by my right hand.”  The hand I was reaching for had been holding mine all along.

Reaching now, whether in a time of need or a time of gratitude, I squeeze back.