Miller Path of Celtic Prayer

1. Auflage 2012
ISBN: 978-0-8308-6675-5
Verlag: InterVarsity Press
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 170 Seiten

Discover an ancient way of prayer that leads us to new union with God.'Long ago,' Calvin Miller writes, 'when the Celts built their own rustic kingdom of God in what would later be the British Isles, their fervor in prayer washed their world in a vital revival.' In uncertain and dangerous days of high infant-mortality rates, leprosy and plagues, the Celts breathed candid prayers out of the reality of their lives: Desperate prayers for protection. Praise for the God who was king over all creation. Honest prayers of confession. In these pages, Miller introduces us to six types of Celtic prayer that can connect us to God more deeply by helping us pray out of the circumstances and uncertainties of our own life.'This book proposes a kind of prayer that can end our amputated feelings of separateness from God,' says Miller. What was true for the Celts is still true for us: 'Hunger for Christ keeps us talking to God till our separation is swallowed up in our unending togetherness with him.' As rich as the faith they describe, these pages lead us on an ancient path that gives guidance for present and future prayers, until the day the Celts longed for, when all separation is gone and we live forever in the presence of God.

Calvin Miller (1936-2012) was a pastor, professor, and storyteller. He wrote more than forty books and was best known for The Singer Trilogy, a mythic retelling of the New Testament story.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Miller, Calvin

Leseproben

1
 
Trinity Prayer

The Art of Loving All of God

Patrick, it is said, once picked up a shamrock, and noticing that it was a single leaf with three distinct bracts, endowed the Celts with a strong trinitarianism they were never able to shake. Both Protestants and Catholics, of course, accept Patrick’s view of the triune God. But while most Christians accept this paradox as the center of our faith, we still have acquired the habit of praying to only one person of the Trinity at a time.

It is almost as though we are trying to alleviate the Almighty’s work load by delegating our needs to one person of the Trinity. We generally thank God the Father for the big stuff: sunrise, rainfall and the Rocky Mountains. We are also prone to ask him to protect us from the devastating “acts of God” that mess with our views of his lovingkindness and providential protection. Hurricanes, earthquakes and the like seem to be more the Father’s province, and so we generally talk to him to amend the weather, stop the Asian flu or feed the hordes of starving people.

To Jesus we delegate the personal work of our own affairs. Healing, improving our income, stopping our toothache or giving us our daily bread: these are things that Jesus takes care of. This, we unconsciously assume, is compassionate in our thinking, for it saves God the Father from piddling with our petty needs. We see Jesus as far less austere and far more approachable than the Father. We would never sing Jesus is our friend. He takes care of our intimate needs and bears our heavy burdens “upstairs” where the Father can take care of them.

Finally, the Holy Spirit generally gets slighted in our prayers. He’s so invisible that we have no fixed mental image of him, unlike the Father and Son. God, to many, is Grandfather Zeus, powerful and to be feared. He thunders around the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and keeps a comfortable distance from trembling and weak humans. Jesus is on the wall of the Chapel and a lot closer to the floor, where we live. Even though he is generally friendly with children and widows, he still wears a toga and looks Romanesque.

But what does the Spirit look like? He’s invisible—amorphous and cellophane. He may indwell us, but it rarely occurs to us to pray to him. At best he is just a supporting actor in the divine drama. The Holy Spirit is nice, and sometimes he makes us feel good in church, but we rarely have conversations with him. Jesus takes care of our personal stuff. God takes care of the Grand Canyon. And the Holy Spirit gets honorable mention at Communion and baptisms.

The Celts could see one thing most clearly: all humans are born to be the children of God, who is Father of all who call on him in prayer. His triune majesty should always remind us that he is greater than we are, but his regal ownership of our lives should never be allowed to crush us into silence. Here is the most amazing feature of grace: although God has no need of us, being complete within himself, he earnestly desires that we be on speaking terms with him. If Jesus and the Holy Spirit are both God like the Father is, wouldn’t it make sense for us to talk to all three as one God when we pray. God is not just one or three: he is the Three-in-One.

But how did the Celts do it? How did they go about praying in this simple way?

The Trinity in Celtic Prayer

For Celts, to know God was to talk to him as he is. When they sang or prayed or hunted or played, they did so in the presence of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Look, for example, at a typical morning prayer:

I awake in the name of the Father who made me.

I arise in the name of the Son who died to save me.

I rise to greet the dawn in the name of the Spirit who fills me with life.

Their evening prayers read the same way!

I lay me down in the love of my Father.

I surrender my body to rest in the love of my Savior.

I trust my life in sleep to the Spirit who fills me with life.

This consistent adoration of the triune God characterizes Celtic devotion. The Trinity, with all its various symbols, filled their theologies, and the oneness of the three permeated their art. It is doubtful that Patrick ever used a shamrock as an illustration of the Trinity, but Celtic crosses (and other artwork), with their abstract geometric designs, symbolize God’s threeness as well as his never-ending sovereignty as the one God. This dramatic form of Celtic art speaks to their holistic view of God.

The primary reason the Celts focused on the Trinity was their own sense that the one God is manifested in plural majesty. Yet their prayers remained simple and to the point. They prayed with a delightful assumption: God, however great he may be, cared about their lives. Theirs was a common life filled with ordinary outdoor tasks and farm chores. Hens needed to be set, sheep needed to be sheared, butter needed to be churned and every task had a proper blessing to make sure that what was done was seen as the gift of God. If their cows went dry, the triune God cared. When a lamb was born dead, it upset the whole pleasure of God. So when the Celts walked with a bold confidence into the presence of God they put the whole Trinity on alert when they had a specific need.

The Creator, the Redeemer, and the empowering Spirit are inseparably one. Let us pray therefore to all three—Father, Son and Spirit—during our morning prayers. This prayer was first written in 1866, but reaches back in spirit to the dim ages of Celtic worship.

I am bending my knee

In the eye of the Father who created me,

In the eye of the Son who purchased me,

In the eye of the Spirit who cleansed me,

In friendship and affection.

Through Thine own Anointed One, O God,

Bestow upon us fullness in our need.

Notice that in this prayer the worshiper honors the Trinity but concludes the prayer with God’s “Anointed One.” Surely this is the richest of all ways to pray. The Trinity is honored, and Jesus’ name blesses the prayer with a glorious and redemptive finality.

This rich expression in the prayer above can be repeated at noontide. If it was used as a table grace it lacks only specific mention of “the hands that prepared it.” It focuses on the Trinity and the triune blessing of the three-personed God. While “at bread,” the Celts were greatly enriched by seeing the fullness of God’s blessing.

I am bending my knee

In the eye of the Father who created me,

In the eye of the Son who died for me,

In the eye of the Spirit who cleansed me,

In love and desire.

Pour down upon us from heaven

The rich blessing of Thy forgiveness;

Thou who art uppermost in the City,

Be Thou patient with us.

Grant to us, Thou Saviour of Glory,

The fear of God, the love of God, and His affection,

And the will of God to do on earth at all times As angels and saints do in heaven;

Each day and night give us Thy peace.

Each day and night give us Thy peace.

And let us learn from the example of these early disciples. Let us also go to him at eventide. Let us make Trinity praying our daily art. Let us entreat the great Three-in-One God to bless our rising up and our lying down. Let us surrender ourselves to him as we sleep, for he is ever awake to care for us.

It was customary for ancient peoples to notice the similarities between sleep and death. (The Bible is full of such references.) Some who fell asleep never awoke. And some ancients believed the soul could be sucked out by demons in the night, and the person would never rise again. This fear lives in the child’s prayer “If I should die before I wake; I pray the Lord my soul to take.” The Celts last waking thoughts before falling asleep were to put the triune God in charge and trust him for safety through the night. They were not terrorized by death, but they did love their homeland and preferred to wake up in the same land where they had gone to bed, and they might well have prayed in the style of the

We come to you Father of our Lord Jesus

We bow to you Father of our Lord Jesus

We praise you Son of Mary, and yet Son of God

We call our Hallelujahs to you Jesus Son of our God

We await your presence in our hearts Spirit eternal.

We offer you our hearts to be your home O Spirit everlasting.

Trinity praying permeated Celtic lives day and night. Long ago at Clonmacnois, Ireland, Christians prayed beneath huge, hand-sculpted crosses that they called “high crosses.” These tall, imposing sculptures were fashioned with geometric art that spoke of the foreverness of God. Here, at these crosses, they often prayed alone to the three-personed God who, because of his inner intimacy at communion, never left them alone. Their own spiritual loneliness was satisfied by the “three of my love.” Having seen the fullness of God with the eye of their hearts, they entered into communion with the Trinity and spoke to him out of the longing of their hearts.

What is the lesson for us? Just this: it is not enough to pray in the name of the Trinity, we must become comfortable spending time in communion with the Trinity. For in talking to God in his completeness, we become complete. It is fearsome work to face God’s throne and dare to strike up a conversation, but that’s what all great living is about!

The...