Praying hands. INQUIRER.net stock photo
I read with much interest Jose Martin Singh’s Young Blood piece, “Praying, living” (3/25/18), which led me to Edwin de Leon’s commentary, “Have we been praying to the wrong God?” (3/13/18). Both pieces prompted me to reflect on the state of my own prayerfulness now, which, I must admit, is wanting. It is a complete contrast to how intensely and frequently I prayed when I was a child.
I am usually secure in my long-held belief that grammatical correctness should not be taken lightly. But I’d like to wring my own neck sometimes for being a “grammar Nazi.”
My uptightness with my use of words somehow infiltrated my spiritual life as a kid. While kneeling on the pew after receiving communion, I’d get it on, praying my (attempted) grammatically correct prayer. I thought that God deserved no less. I thought that He would hear me better if I exerted more effort at constructing the sentences that made up my prayer.
So with eyes closed and hands clasped tightly, I strung together words and recited them with clarity and passion, being strictly mindful of the syntax and the delivery. A grade school student then, I was convinced that that was the proper way of praying, whether during Mass, before sleeping, upon waking up, before and after meals, during times when I had to thank or ask Him for something, apologize for a shortcoming, etc.
Now, a kid no more many years later, I ask myself amusedly: Whoever gave me the idea that God prefers grammatically correct prayers? I don’t remember my parents, relatives, Religion teacher at JASMS-QC or any of the priests I’ve listened to in my childhood drill that notion in my impressionable and gullible young mind. It was just me—weird, uptight me, and nobody else.
This change could be attributed to my supposed spiritual maturity, realizing that when we pray, God only wants us to be sincere. He does not need us to be perfect, which I am not. Add to that my other realization: Being so grammar-conscious can limit one’s spontaneity in really conversing with Him. Considering that there is so much I need to pray for, the way I pray now suits me well.
I shared this story of my childhood praying style with a good friend who edits our parish newsletter and the official scholarly journal of her Jesuit-run alma mater, where she also teaches philosophy. She laughingly said that she could relate to my anecdote, recalling how a few times in the past, she would start her prayer in English and then shift to the vernacular when she found herself at a loss for words. “Ay, God, Tagalog na lang po, ha?” she would say in the middle of her prayer. I’m relieved to know I was not alone.
But how exactly do I pray now? Well, since praying is a very personal thing between God and me, I will spare you the details. I just pray the way I do. I pray the way I know how.
Although this is not meant to be prescriptive — just a casual narrative — I would still like to end with this: Pray the way you do. Pray the way you know how. If it’s sincere, for sure He’s all ears.
CLAUDE LUCAS C. DESPABILADERAS, Quezon City, claudelucasdespa@gmail.com