Last time we checked in on Carolyn Browender’s Lenten resolution to spend a week following the prayer practices of different faith traditions, she had tried Mormonism and Quakerism. She then turned to Roman Catholicism:
I borrowed a rosary from a friend and after some hunting around, found a how-to pamphlet from the Knights of Columbus and a list of the different mysteries you’re supposed to mediate on when praying. I didn’t know the Hail Mary, Glory Be, Fatima Prayer or Hail Holy Queen, so my first attempt was clumsy. I kept alternating between the pamphlet for the prayers and the list of mysteries. My second attempt was a bit smoother and was done right before I went to sleep. At this point I’d memorized the Hail Mary and Glory Be, and found it much easier to relax and fall into a more contemplative state. While my mind would sometimes wander while contemplating the mysteries (I focused on the sorrowful ones), I did appreciate the physicality of fingering beads. This seems to be a theme for me this Lent: If there is some kind of ritual or movement I can perform my prayers are likely to be more focused.
Next up was Judaism, which proved a linguistic challenge:
After attempting to pray from a more traditional website, I opted to switch to an online community’s siddur for my afternoon and evening prayers. The former featured clunky translation and assumed more familiarity with certain prayers than I had. The latter, while easier to follow and with an more inclusive and poetic translation, seemed almost too short, which made it difficult to connect fully to the ritual. Granted, the brevity was my fault—I was praying alone, when the ideal way to pray would have been in a minyan. I also missed the melodies that prayers and psalms were sung to when I attended services. Music (singing in particular) is a useful spiritual tool for me, even when the words are in a language other than English, and its absence was definitely felt in this exercise.
I also struggled with timing. I did not even attempt the full morning prayer service, though I tried to say the Modeh Ani when I woke. I really like the idea of being thankful and grateful upon waking, but not being a morning person I found it difficult to be particularly genuine when reciting it.
Thankfully, the Shema came through for me a few times. I would recite this as part of the afternoon and evening prayers and again before I went to sleep. I found that singing this quietly before falling asleep centered and relaxed me. Its frank statement of faith in the oneness of God is also appealing—this is one of the few beliefs of mine that has been nearly constant through phases of skepticism and questioning.
The Dish 