I’m always struck by how intensely Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was crucified. He prayed to his father to “take this cup away from me” (Mark 14:36). Jesus prayed so profoundly that he sweated blood. Certainly, this must have been a time of deep prayer for our Lord.
Sometimes when we pray, the prayer seems deeper, more significant; other times, our prayer can seem less meaningful or profound. This is unfortunate but true.
But why is this so?
A childhood friend of mine, Sam, just went through surgery to remove a section of his right lung due to suspected lung cancer. I have been praying and praying for him, and I’ve noticed that my prayer is very intense. In essence, I’ve been praying whenever I think about him, which has been quite often. I’ve been pondering why this is the case, and I’ve come up with several reasons; they align with the classic journalism rule of the 5 Ws (and H):
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Who
Sam is a close friend, and I love him dearly. I’ve known Sam since he was 5 years old. I’m now 62, and he’s 57. He’s the brother of my best friend, Mary. Our closeness makes my prayer more intense. Praying means more to me with Sam than if I were praying for someone I didn’t know well.
What
Sam has cancer, and I went through several surgeries for breast cancer, so I can relate directly to what he’s experiencing. From 2011 to the present, I’ve been dealing with two breast cancers, in fact. I know the pain of this disease and the hassle of the treatments for it. I’ve had chemo, radiation, surgery, and 10 years of medication to rid myself of these cancers. I don’t want Sam to have to endure these things. Since I know a lot about what Sam might have to go through, my prayers for him are more fervent.
When
I’m not working right now (I have the summer off from my teaching job), so I have a good deal of mental space and time to think about and pray for Sam. Having this expanse of time and energy makes my prayer deeper. In short, I just pray more — more constantly and more consistently.
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Where
I haven’t been to Mass recently, so I feel as though I’m longing for a spiritual connection. I’m not praying for Sam in a church, but outside of one. Deep prayer is not bound by time and space — it’s constant and ever-present. This means I’m carrying Sam with me everywhere — at home, at the grocery store, at the gas station…
Why
Sam is a spiritual person and truly believes in the power of prayer. He wants to be prayed for. Think of it like this: Prayer is now a two-way street with this friend. God says “where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:20). Because Sam and I are gathered together spiritually, how could our prayer not be deep?
How
As a Catholic, I’m praying the prayers that I learned as a child — The Hail Mary and The Our Father. I’m also praying impromptu prayers, saying things such as, “Dear Lord, be with Sam during his surgery,” and “Take away his cancer.” Sam isn’t a Catholic, but it doesn’t matter. He’s a strong believer in the saving power of Jesus Christ. We’re a good prayer team, Sam and I.
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Even when we have this deep experience of prayer, we know that not all prayers are answered in the ways we might hope for. But with Sam, I’ve had the great joy of having our prayers answered. They cut out some of his lung (the part that was suspected to be cancerous), and the section was benign — not malignant. They are postulating that the portion they removed might just be dead tissue from a pulmonary embolism he had a while back. So, Sam doesn’t even have cancer. Talk about answered prayers!
Inevitably, some of our prayer experiences will be more profound than others. To understand this phenomenon, try looking at the who, what, when, where, why and how behind them.
Now, excuse me. I have to go celebrate Sam’s cancer-free status.
Hallelujah!
