It is the rare weekend when I celebrate mass and someone does not ask me to pray for a particular need. This past Sunday, the requests included a still-born child and a woman who needed to get an unexpected and serious medical exam.  Sometimes, the petition is simple; sometimes it is couched in a story that gives context to the request and also captures the importance of the matter to the seeker.  When someone makes an appeal outside of a busy environment, I like to try to use that moment to pray with them.  In any case, I want to take these biddings seriously.  But that does not prevent a reminder from being included in my own prayer—“For those for whom I have forgotten to pray.”  I rely on the Lord’s patience and understanding in those moments.

From one point of view, prayer should be the easiest thing in the world.  After all, it can be defined as simply talking to God.  There should not be the need for any rehearsal or making of lists.  All that is required is the desire to do it.  When I speak about prayer to a group, I always begin with a passage from St. Vincent.  It sets the proper context for any prayer.  Vincent insists that we first must remember to whom we are speaking:

“So now, this is what we have to do: first of all, place ourselves in the presence of God, considering him either as he is in heaven, seated on the throne of his majesty . . . ; or in his immensity, present everywhere, here and elsewhere . . . ; or in his presence in the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar . . . ; or, lastly, within ourselves, pervading us entirely and dwelling in the depth of our hearts.” (CCD 11 #168, p. 359)

Where else can we begin except with a recognition of the way in which our prayer addresses the one who made us?  An awareness of the presence of God focuses our attention first of all on the one to whom we are speaking.  Vincent’s quotation really captures the different ways in which we can be attentive to that reality of God—in the divine being, in the creative act, in the Eucharistic presence, and in the indwelling.  Any one of these possibilities evocatively brings God to mind for us, each in its own way.  Each gives direction and personal attention to the words that we speak to our Lord.

Beginning our prayer with an acknowledgement of God’s presence seems self-evident.  Perhaps, when we are praying with a group, we begin by inviting a moment of silence so that we can place ourselves respectfully and confidently before our Maker.  Starting our personal prayer in that self-same way makes wonderful sense.

Yes, when someone asks me to pray for them or one of their needs, I want to take that request seriously.  On my best days, I envision the Syro-Phoenician woman who boldly stands before the Lord to seek healing for her daughter (Mt 15:21-28).  I think about the Synagogue official who humbly comes to Jesus to ask for the life of his daughter (Lk 8:41-42, 49-56).  These people (and others) put themselves before Jesus and made their needs known.  One could hardly hesitate to call their actions “prayer.”  Should we allow our approach to the Lord to be any less driven or personal?

We hear the guidance of Vincent that we should first draw our attention to the one to whom we are speaking, and then we should pray with confidence.  With God’s grace, we can do it.