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Preparing to Pray
Standing on holy ground, as Moses discovered, requires its own spiritual etiquette. Origen begins by admonishing us to pay attention to the way we prepare ourselves to pray. Too often I rush straight from a world of frenzied activity into the presence of God, and then wonder why my thoughts are so distracted and chaotic, why it is so hard to concentrate on prayer. I have forgotten to ready myself for “the great transition.” I have neglected the rites of preparation that prayer demands.
If we stop and think about it, our lives are full of these rites of preparation. At breakfast this morning I did not begin my meal by opening the refrigerator door, grabbing the orange juice and drinking it straight from the container. No, the orange juice had to be poured into a glass. Tea had to be brewed. Bread was toasted golden brown, then covered with a swath of delicious maple butter. The toast was placed on a plate, then carried, with the tea and orange juice, into the dining room. There I sat down, prayed, and then ate my breakfast. Rites of preparation made it possible for me to enjoy my breakfast. In so many areas of life, whether we are conscious of it or not, we enact rites of preparation.
These rites are no less important when we begin to pray. Think about the transition we make. We leave a world of noise and speed to search for a still, quiet center; we move from a world where human agendas and actions are given priority into a world where God’s agenda and actions must be given first place. It is not an easy transition. It should not be made glibly or presumptuously. Origen suggests that “the person who is about to come to prayer should withdraw for a little and prepare himself, and so become more attentive and active for the whole of his prayer.” Preparing ourselves, Origen tells us, is a way of clothing ourselves before we present ourselves to God, for “it is impious to approach Him carelessly, sluggishly, and disdainfully.” According to Origen, preparing to pray may mean letting go of anger nurtured in our hearts and asking for grace to forgive. It may mean taking a few quiet moments to let go of the clutter of thoughts that preoccupy us and to focus instead on the greatness of God, to “peer beyond the created order and arrive at the sheer contemplation of God and at conversing with Him reverently and suitably as He listens.” Ideally, the one who prays aspires to “forget for the time being everything but the prayer he is praying.”
How do we prepare to pray? What helps us shed our scatteredness and find our center in God? For some a vigorous walk releases the tension that has slowly seized our muscles. For others it might be listening to the medieval plainsong of Hildegard of Bingen or the choruses of contemporary praise music. Perhaps it is quieting our hearts through devotional reading. We will each clothe ourselves for prayer in our own distinctive ways. In practicing these disciplines of readiness we are, according to Teresa of Ávila, laying bait for our souls, summoning our hearts to an attentiveness that opens them wide to the work of God’s Spirit.

Dealing with Distractions
When all is said and done, even with the most appropriate rites of preparation our prayer lives will not be totally free of distractions. Wild, careening thoughts and sometimes repulsively malignant thoughts will come our way, taking our focus off our prayers. What do we do then? Some masters of the prayer life recommend pulling the distraction into our prayers. For example, if I find myself thinking about that vacation I would like to take, I should quickly bring that desire to God and ask him for his discernment, then get back to the regular rhythm of my prayers. At times I have found this approach helpful. Perhaps the best approach to dealing with distractions is simply to call ourselves back to attention by addressing God: “Lord, here I am, with my thoughts wandering. Help me keep my thoughts focused on you.” Know that God understands our limitations, and move on in prayer. Don’t allow the distractions themselves to distract you.
Why do we battle with distractions in prayer? We live distracted lives. We are distracted at work and school, distracted when we are with our friends or families. Our inner world is rarely composed and serene; however, if we are willing to persevere in prayer through the distractions, God will give us a gift that may well enrich other areas of our lives: if I learn to spend ten minutes intently focused on my conversation with God, giving him my full attention, I am also far more likely to be able to bring a new measure of focus into the rest of my life. I will focus on each of life’s tasks, giving myself fully to each moment as it comes along. Striving for a less distracted prayer life, then, has the potential to lead me into a less distracted life in general.

A Call to Embodied Prayer
As we have seen, Origen is careful to acknowledge the great mystery that is prayer. Paradoxically, he insists that we need to begin our thinking about prayer with feet planted solidly on the earth.
After the first flush of some intense spiritual experiences in my teen years, I found myself genuinely puzzled. Why, if I was created for spiritual communion with God, did he choose to fetter me with a body that seemed to impose severe limitations on my devotion? At the very least I needed to eat regularly and to clothe my body daily, and I wasted nearly a third of my day in the apparent uselessness of sleep. It didn’t make sense. I couldn’t help but see my adolescent flesh as cumbersome at best, a locus for demonic distractions at worst. Looking back, the question seems embarrassingly naive, but that tendency to denigrate the flesh and exalt the spirit can be a constant temptation for those who pursue the spiritual life. We need to remember the incarnation, the Word became flesh. We need to think through the glorious implications for our own bodies. As the fourteenth-century Orthodox theologian Gregory Palamas wrote, the incarnation has “made the flesh an inexhaustible source of sanctification.” The body has a central place in prayer.
If we imagine prayer mostly as elevation into sustained celestial song, surrounded with gorgeously plump, rosy cheeked cherubs, we will likely find ourselves singing the prayerlessness blues. Any realistic understanding of prayer needs to take into account that prayer is the response of our whole person—spirit, mind and body—to God. Origen understands that effective prayer begins with attention to our bodies.
Specifically, Origen suggests the position of our bodies in prayer demands consideration. He recommends one posture as particularly effective: “The hands outstretched and the eyes lifted up is to be preferred before all others, because it bears in prayer the image of characteristics befitting the soul and applies it to the body.” His point is simple. The posture of our bodies can give expression to the impulses of our souls. But perhaps his argument can be taken further. It seems to me that not only can our souls lead our bodies, our bodies can also lead our souls. Stretch out your hands, lift your eyes to heaven, and let your flesh school your spirit into aspiration and concentration, a steadfast looking beyond yourself to the God of your salvation.
When it comes to posture there are many options. Origen notes that when we confess our sin, kneeling might be the most appropriate posture. A student once told me that he knelt when he prayed because kneeling was something he did for no one else, a gesture of reverence and devotion, a language of the body reserved only for his intimate relationship with God. I often pray seated in an upright alert position, hands turned open at my side. Sometimes I begin with deep breaths, consciously letting go of the anxieties and preoccupations that clutter my inner life. Sitting, kneeling, dancing, lying face down on the ground—all may be appropriate responses of the body to grace. If we are serious about prayer we need to pay conscious attention to posture. To put it in contemporary language, Origen is calling us to “embodied prayer,” to praying unapologetically and freely with our bodies.

Place and Prayer
If posture is important in prayer, so is place—where we pray. Obviously, prayer can take place anywhere; Origen writes, “Let it be known that every place is suitable for prayer if a person prays well.” But the freedom and flexibility we have to pray anywhere should not blind us to the merits of having a specific place where we regularly pray: “But everyone may have, if I may put it this way, a holy place set aside and chosen in his own house, if possible, for accomplishing his prayers in quiet and without distraction.”
Some places are simply too noisy and laden with potential distractions to be considered as places for concentrated prayer. If we suffer from even the slightest perfectionist impulse, prayer near a cluttered desk or in a messy room is a highly unlikely proposition. Other places disqualify themselves from consideration because they have taken on some negative associations, such as places where we have committed sin or places of painful memories.
But if some places discourage prayer, others can draw us into prayer. Origen suggests that “prayers in the churches . . . have something exceptional for the person who assembles in them genuinely.” The stillness and the rich symbolism of a church sanctuary may prime our spirits for prayer. Of course, praying regularly in church sanctuaries is not a realistic option for many of us. My own mornings often begin with a walk through my backyard to the church where I have a study. Here my day starts with prayer. So often, even as I approach the door to my study, I am conscious of the many times God has graced me with a sense of his presence in that room. The door is opened. Light pours in through the windows, and memories of meeting God are heavy in the air. A desire to pray is stirred in my heart. For other people it may not be a particular room but a walk along a familiar path or sitting down in a special chair. I have a friend who finds that a bathtub is the best place to meet God. Distractions are at a minimum. Tensions are relaxed. Prayer can flourish. As with posture, so with place: there is no right or wrong answer. We need to seek solutions that fit the peculiarities of our own situations.