{"id":7847,"date":"2019-08-05T21:53:44","date_gmt":"2019-08-05T19:53:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.irenebom.com\/prayer_matters\/?p=7847"},"modified":"2020-02-04T09:44:44","modified_gmt":"2020-02-04T08:44:44","slug":"in-the-school-of-prayer-with-padraig-o-tuama","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.irenebom.com\/prayer_matters\/2019\/08\/05\/in-the-school-of-prayer-with-padraig-o-tuama\/","title":{"rendered":"In the school of prayer with Pádraig Ó Tuama"},"content":{"rendered":"

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\n(Photo: Irene Bom)<\/span>
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From 2014 to 2019, Irish poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama, led the Corrymeela Community<\/a>, Ireland\u2019s oldest peace and reconciliation organisation.<\/p>\n

Drawing on the spiritual practices of the community, in 2017 he published Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community<\/em><\/a>. Here are some excerpts on prayer from the Foreword, and a prayer celebrating the gentle gifts of morning.<\/p>\n\n

Prayer is …<\/h3>\n

Prayer is a small fire lit to keep cold hands warm. Prayer is a practice that flourishes both with faith and doubt. Prayer is asking, and prayer is sitting. Prayer is the breath. Prayer is not an answer, always, because not all questions can be answered. (p. xi)<\/p>\n

No prayer is perfect. There is no system of prayer that is the best. … Henri Nouwen said that the only way to pray is to pray; the only way to try is to try. So the only way to pray well is to pray regularly enough that it becomes a practice of encounter. (p. xii)<\/p>\n

We turn to prayer in days of joy, and days where our world shows – again – that it is wrapped in the circle of conflict. We turn to form, we turn to old words because sometimes it is old words that hold the deepest comfort and the deepest challenge. … in a time of trauma, God is given a name by the traumatized. In a time of joy, God is named by the joy of our hearts. In a time of confession, God is named as light. In a time of rest, God is the soft dark that enfolds us. (p. xix)<\/p>\n

Prayer, like poetry – like breath, like our own names – has a fundamental rhythm in our bodies. It changes, it adapts, … it sings, it swears, it is syncopated by the rhythm under the rhythm, the love underneath the love, the rhyme underneath the rhyme, the name underneath the name, the welcome underneath the welcome, the prayer beneath the prayer. (p. xx)<\/p>\n

The world is big, and wide, and wild and wonderful and wicked, and our lives are murky, magnificent, malleable and full of meaning. Oremus<\/em>*. Let us pray. (p. xx)<\/p>\n

 
\n*Oremus: Latin for ‘Let us pray’<\/em>
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from Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community<\/em><\/a>
\nby Pádraig Ó Tuama, p. ix-xx
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A liturgy of the morning<\/h3>\n
\nThere’s also a companion piece, A liturgy of the night<\/em><\/a> (posted on 4 February 2020).\n<\/div>\n

 
\nOn the first morning God said: ‘Let there be birds.’ And God separated voice from voice; and in some voices, God put a song, and the song sang to the land, and to the light, and to the light on the land, and when the people heard it, the morning had begun. The first morning.
\nAnd God said that it was Good.<\/strong><\/p>\n

On the second morning God said, ‘There will be dreams from the night that will need the light of the morning.’ And so God put wisdom in the early hours. The second morning .
\nAnd God said that it was Good.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And on the third morning, God said: ‘Let there be a certain kind of light that can only be seen in the morning.’ And God created gold, and dew, and horizons, and hills in the distance, and faces that look different in the light of the morning, and things that look different in the light of the morning. The third morning.
\nAnd God said that it was Good.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And on the fourth morning, God said, ‘Sometimes the day will be long. Let there be warmth in the morning, let people sleep for some mornings, and let the rest of the morning be good.’ The fourth morning.
\nAnd God said that it was Good.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And on the fifth morning, God said: ‘There will be people who will rise early every morning, whose day will begin in the night, by the light of moon and stars; they will see the sun rise, these early risers.’ And God put a softness at the heart of the dawn. The fifth morning.
\nAnd God said that it was Good.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And on the sixth morning, God listened. And there were people working, and people struggling to get out of bed, and there were people making love and people making sandwiches. There were people dreading the day, and people glad that the night was over. And God hoped that they’d survive. And God shone light, and made clouds, and rain, and rainbows, and toast, and coffee, places to love the light and places to hide from the light. Small corners to accompany the lonely, the joyous, the needy and the needed. The sixth morning.
\nAnd God said that it was Good.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And on the last morning, God rested. And the rest was good. The rest was very good.
\nAnd God said that it was very Good.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 
\nfrom Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community<\/em><\/a>
\nby Pádraig Ó Tuama, p. 65-6
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Digging deeper …<\/h3>\n