PSALMS: Praying for Our Leaders

By Frank Savadera, SJ

Quite amusing it was for me to read through a selection of the Psalms of Trust (ie. Psalms 11, 23, 62, 91 and 121) and catch myself praying for our leaders. It is not new for us to formulate our usual “Prayers of the Faithful” during Mass by petitioning our Lord to “watch over” our church and political leaders (and in a special way our pirests and our local superiors). My important discovery in going through the readings, is the realization that we can effectively appropriate the Psalms of Trust to serve a similar purpose of praying for those tasked to govern over us.

For instance, I must accept that I’ve learned to take for granted the value of Psalm 23. The verses have become quite common placed and in most instances, I’ve grown to think of “the Lord as my Shepherd” psalm as appropriate only for our use during funeral, wake or burial services. Quite often as well, we pray with these psalms with only our personal needs in mind (i.e., longings for rest, still waters, comfort, for deliverance from our sins and enemies, etc.). I’m taking up the challenge of John F. Cragman to “test the theology of the biblical imagery” that we find in the Psalms and make it the “springboard” for our more meaningful use in prayer. In the Psalms of Trust says B. Anderson, certain imageries of Yahweh include that of the most concerned shepherd and gracious host. We would like to think that these most ideal imageries that we ascribe to Yahweh are the same ideals that we hope to find in the life lived by our worldly leaders as well. In reality however, our earthly leaders are not like Yahweh. Our leaders fail. They are prone to corruption and the use of violence simply because power, influence and greed can easily eat them up. We remember our very real frustrations with our leaders and we pray and petition our Lord to help and guide them, that is for the sake of our countries, the poor who need help the most and our institutions. It is in this light that I see the Psalms of Trust as appropriate prayers for the further enlightenment and well-being of our leaders. We express our trust in them, by openly articulating our hope that they lead us to greater prosperity, to restful waters (23:2), to more secure situations wherein fear no longer grips us (23:4) and where we will be more free to celebrate goodness and love (23:6) in our societies. In our prayer, we give our leaders their due and think of them as our kings (queens) and protectors from our enemies and pursuers (91:3) and the dispensers of wisdom, right judgement and formidable character. Isn’t it true that we rarely pray for our leaders? May the wisdom we derive from the Psalms of Trust help us acknowledge our longings and desires that our earthly leaders truly serve us as they have hereto been mandated by God and the heavens. It is a joy knowing that we can pray for our leaders by collectively, as a nation, taking seriously in prayer our Psalms of Trust.

PRAISE: ACKNOWLEDGING GOD’S EXISTENCE

By Frank Savadera, SJ

While reflecting on the questions “Have I really praised God?” and “What has been missing in my prayer?,” I’ve felt the need to refer to descriptions of prayer made by Gary Anderson in the article entitled “The Praise of God as a Cultic Event.”

Anderson describes ‘praising God’ as ‘cultic,’ that is, having its roots in the life, worship and piety of Israel as a people. He associates the Psalms of Praise to the generous use of verbs of vocal expressions such as ‘REJOICE’ or ‘Hallelujah.’ Apparently, praising is more than a mental process. It becomes a movement outside oneself and finds expressions in very tangible actions like singing, dancing and active communal worshiping. It is indeed a joyful event which is almost accompanied by some forms of sacrifice. Simply put, “praise” according to Anderson is a public and “vowed” procla

mation of Yahweh’s faithfulness.

In all honesty, I must say that I haven’t prayed and praised God this way in a very long time. Prior to entering the Society of Jesus, I’ve encountered such a public way of praising God as a member of the “Ligaya ng Panginoon” (Joy of the Lord), a covenanted, charismatic community for the lay faithful. I also must admit that Ignatian spirituality has taught me to be more “private” and “silent” in my prayer.

How do I feel about such a sudden digression in the way I pray? In time, I’ve learned to appreciate being alone with my God. Our recollections and retreats often lead us to approximate the Manresa experience of St. Ignatius of Loyola. But then I know that I’m accustomed as well to communal worship … to singing and clapping, to raising one’s hands in prayer … to openly verbalizing my personal prayer … to speaking and singing in tongues … to attentive listening to God’s words for me and my community … to prophesying … to simply feeling the energy of the Spirit reverberating in a room full of community members vocally expressing their prayers to God. This type of praying, to my mind also subscribes to P. Humbert’s invitation to communal praise which addresses a “gathered assembly” and presumes a public audience.

It makes me wonder sometimes why such “too public” prayers hardly find concrete expressions in our own current forms of worship. A “sophisticated” view of praying seems to look down on too external expressions, the charismatic type of communal prayers. Nevertheless, I can sense that many people still encounter real emotions … spiritual in nature, during our ‘formal’ and 'sophisticated' celebrations. But then, a question: Have we learned to keep our emotions to ourselves simply because our services do not make space for their public expression? It appears therefore that our incapacities to fully praise God, in the tradition so described for us by Anderson and Humbert can be rooted in the many restrictions which evolved to promote more formal and sophisticated expressions of worship (as in our current liturgies).

Another important reason why I sometimes fail to worship and praise God to the fullest … is because of SIN and being in a state of ‘disgrace.’ The ‘dead’ - those who have succumbed to the enticements of Sheol - says Anderson, cannot perform the act of praise. I find this very true at times during retreats when I feel very distracted in my periods of prayer. I’ve felt instances when the longing to pray is present yet my condition seems not to permit being more focused in prayer. In such circumstances, I’ve realized the need for certain atonement for sins (i.e., confession, fasting, abstinence, etc.). I also find this true in the way I view ordinary things in life. Often I do not find joy in the activities that I involve in or do not appreciate the simple blessings given me … precisely because SIN is weighing me down. I fail to recognize God or more so fail to give him due worship because my personal sins easily cut me off from Him. Just like in the Psalms of Lamentations, I sometimes feel very frustrated about myself. I feel the despair of being hopeless and helpless for giving in to certain recurring sins. I remember our vow formula – our petition that the Lord provide us the grace to keep our perpetual promise – and often in my despair, I accuse God of abandoning me … of not providing me enough grace to get over my own sinfulness.

Nevertheless, I also find consolation in Anderson’s two categories of praise. He talks about ‘declarative” praise which acknowledges the work that God has performed in the past and “descriptive” praise which calls attention to workings of God in the here and now. I find most positive and optimistic these two types of praise as forwarded by Anderson. Often when I tend to dwell on my many weaknesses or the opportunities for grace that I have missed, I find the need to convince myself of the many good things that the Lord has performed and is continually performing in my life. Simply put, praising God means duly recognizing the blessings one has received through time. Quite ordinary blessings – like the gifts of life and better health, of family and friendships – have become common placed in our systems that we take them for granted. We fail to thank and praise God for such blessings. An interesting interpretation of Anderson of ‘praise’ is that it is a “joyful act.” Now, I take this as an important sign of whether or not I’m truly praising God. Am I happy or joyful? Am I angry or do I complain a lot? Simple as they may seem, the questions are themselves very revealing. The public act of praise now seems to mean how I publicly witness to the ongoing works of God in me. Such a witness, to qualify as praise for God, needs to be truly joyful and inspiring for others.

I find consolation as well in the diversity of ways and means of worship and praise relayed to us by Brueggemann. I resonate primarily with praise as a poetic act … that which is open to many meanings … that which is not coercive (with a wider latitude and accepting of realities other than our own). I think of this as the “more Asian” way of praising (as against the quite rigid and structured western mode of praying). I even think of this poetic type of praising as something which parallels the Ignatian “tantum quantum” (whatever works) principle. The image of Ignatius looking at the stars and beholding the magnificence of creation appeals to me the most … that which inspires us to praise God through the sheer acknowledgement of something greater than ourselves. To recognize with much awe and wonder the power and immensity of God … as we observe in nature … allows us indeed to be more poetic in our expressions of praise. Poems, music, paintings, sketches, sculptures are but few of tangible expressions of our praising our God.

My reflections on the theme are therefore four-fold: Firstly, as in the experience of Israel, praising God remains a communal act. We do not do so simply in the privacy of our rooms. A public and communal dimension to praying is being stressed here. The challenge therefore, for our current practices in the liturgy is to create space and time for more public expressions of worship. Secondly, we note how the current “state of our souls” determines the quality of our “one-ness” with God. By analogy, we refer to our human relationships to help us determine how “burning bridges” with another person may equal our experiences of sin. The quality of relations we keep with God matches the quality of praise that we are willing to offer Him. Thirdly, praising God is much evident in the joyful witness we manifest in the lives we live. Such a witness is anchored on the peace and contentment that mark our lives as we acknowledge the simple blessings that we have already received. And lastly, God Himself already provides us the grace to express our worship and praise through many and varied poetic means. Beyond all these however, we recognize how praising is made possible by the very presence of God himself. We couldn’t thank God enough for giving us the opportunity to praise. To worship, as we know is to acknowledge that there is an object to our praising. God must truly exist!

RESTRAINING OUR SENSE OF MEGALOMANIA

I must confess that I’m a bit megalomaniac.  I must submit myself to some form of therapy for easily associating power and energy with the grandiosity of structures. Tsk! Thus, I remember, after visiting the churches of Vigan and Laoag for the first time some years ago, the compulsive in me was quietly insisting that new churches in the country should be built the old fashioned way, that is as massive and as monolithic -- testimonies to the ingenuity of man paying tribute to a great God.  But then, I was catching and asking myself: What do I mean? And so I thought perhaps that the solid buttresses of the baroque Paoay Church are the closest that we can get to the mysterious stupas of Borobodur in Djogjakarta or the magnificence of the Thai King’s Grand Temple of the Emerald Buddha.   I can be awe struck by the effort of reconstruction being done on the Santa Monica Church (destroyed by an earthquake two months after the Marcos-Araneta nuptials).  Up on the still exposed ceilings, hundreds of cured ancient logs hung uncomplaining side-by-side each other serving as frame-support for the roof nestling above.  And so with pride, I thought, we can also work wonders with our local wood approximating those on the temples at Nara and Kyoto.  Of course,  I can dream on. 

Quickly enough, I was shaking myself off my deranged musings. I’m not merely admiring an ancient monument, a tomb or simply another fascinating tourist attraction. I had to hear myself saying: “These are churches, for heaven’s sake!” As such, they function more than mere backdrops immotalized on our ubiquitous postcards.  I’m sure the ancient builders of these Ilocos churches (i.e., the Augustinians and Dominicans) well subscribed to the claim of a God who “wishes all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.”  Aptly, at a time when catechetical instructions faced a lot of limitations and when technology had yet to invent the public address system, the Church if I may surmised, needed the symbolisms of these massive structures, the stories conjured by the stained glass windows, the phalanx of saintly images, the ornate retablos, the spires that pointed heaven-wards to drive home the point that there exist a great God that remains the sole and worthy subject of all our expressions of worship.  If the life of the faithful then seemed detached from the cryptic liturgy, at least with the visual sensations around them, they can worship God.  The approach seemed logical enough given the context of the old.

To state the obvious, however, we say that times have indeed changed.  We needed to graduate from the pleasure of mere visual sensations to more meaningful and life changing experiences of God.  Thus to my mind, the underlying challenge being posed by our practice of faith is to encounter God in the most proximate and real way.  To this effect, a lot of conscious efforts will need to be made to contextualize our practices and ensure active participation in memorializing the paschal mystery of our Lord.   

We acknowledge the headways done and accomplished in this regard.  Now, we receive and translate the Gospels in dialects closest to our own local psyche.  Our songs now carry the temperament and emotions of our own culture.  We can now sing the Great Amen to affirm and accept our real understanding (hopefully?) of the mystery unfolding before us during each liturgical celebration.  Our participation in such rites, as well, helps us identify with an assembly that encounters God in a multiplicity of ways.  In short, our inculturated liturgy allows us every opportunity to experience the power and energy of God via our supposed participation in the very life of the Church. 

The grandiose buildings of the old have indeed served their purpose.  Every so often, we enter a massive structure and experience the monumental God, the Being bigger than ourselves that the buildings so wished to impress upon our minds and those of the early believers.  Nevertheless, the call of the times points us to a greater participation in the life of the Church than merely being overly concerned with structures and external trimmings.  

I guess, I myself will need to temper my own compulsions or perhaps more … even say a little prayer that our Church may be saved from crazy megalomaniacs like myself.