How prayer helps us face reality of pandemic

What does it mean to begin to pray during a global pandemic? Is it an instinctive action to reach out to anyone who might be able to help? In times of uncertainty, loss, bereavement and despair it is understandable that we cry out to God even if we haven’t done so since childhood.

In a study from the University of Copenhagen, it was found that during the month of March 2020 Goggle searches for “prayer” had risen by 50 per cent – over taking main faith events such Christmas, Easter, and Ramadan. But what do we mean by prayer? What are the many people who have been searching online for ‘prayer’ looking for?

For me, to pray is to communicate. Words might be spoken, or not. I might stand, sit or lie down. I might be walking or working. I might be seeking, shouting or simply staying still and listening.

I have discovered over the last few weeks that meditating alongside others is an immense source of comfort, because we breathe together. And I read this morning that when walking next to someone, even two metres apart, it is natural for the pace of the two companions to become matched. So, it makes sense that praying together creates a sense of community and closeness.

Many places of worship are designed for shared as well as individual prayer, and the imprint of that prayer can be felt in the atmosphere. I remember taking my nephew to visit Chartres cathedral, in France. He was only 12, and hadn’t been brought up in any religion, but he said to me: “Can you hear the shadows whispering?” Over time, the patterns of prayer had been laid down in the atmosphere. I often feel it when I spend time on retreat in places where prayer is simply part of the rhythm and routine of the day. One of my best friends is a Benedictine nun of Stanbrook Abbey in Yorkshire. When I visit, sinking into the daily round of prayer there brings me joy.

But prayer is not just about feeling good and creating beautiful atmospheres. It is not just a way to escape from daily anxieties and fears. It is also a challenge. Because what is the point of lying to God? In prayer, I find my true self, the self that God knows so well. And I try to find a way to love and accept that self, because God accepts and loves me. As St Teresa of Avila said: “Prayer is an exercise of love.” (Life 7:12)

Prayer is a conversation, a space for contemplation, for gratitude and for awareness. But it is also an action. To pray is to act. In prayer I become aware of the great love that God has for the world. And I come to know my responsibility to care for my neighbour and for the whole of creation. To return to Teresa of Avila: “We cannot know whether or not we love God…but we can know whether we love our neighbour.” (The Interior Castle, chap.3). As Jesus reminds us, the two most important commandments are intertwined, love of God and love of neighbour.

To pray is not to hide away from reality, it is to become uncomfortably aware of reality. To pray is to act in love, inspired by our love of God, and God’s love for us. To pray is to immerse ourselves in love.

Today we are facing an extraordinarily difficult reality, a global crisis on an immense scale. It highlights the scandalous inequalities between us all. It is so hard to see all of this, that we can be tempted to hide away and not look, even through our fingers.

But if we are rooted in prayer, we can face up to reality. When we become immersed in love, we can find the strength to open our eyes and reach out to neighbours, local and global.

Even in the midst of a whirlwind of activity it is possible to find a still space, a calm place within us. I often find that place while walking – for me, pilgrimage is prayer. And though it can be helpful to be in a beautiful building, we do not need to be inside to find God. Even when places of worship are closed, God’s door is open. 

Linda Jones is Head of Theology at CAFOD