Fr. Jarek Kurek: I hope you still remember that last Sunday we were encouraged to pray continually, guided by Jesus’ powerful parable about the persistent woman who kept asking for justice from the unjust judge.
Those who follow us on the webcam in the early mornings could hear more about that need afterwards. St Augustine — the spiritual father of our Pope Leo — accompanied us in the readings, teaching us about the art of prayer in his Letter to Proba. At the beginning of that letter, he referred again to this burning need, quoting St Paul: “Pray without ceasing.”
How did Augustine elaborate on this? He suggested: “To spend much time in prayer is to knock with a persistent and holy fervour at the door of the One whom we beseech. This task is generally accomplished more through sighs than words, more through weeping than speech.” That already brings us close to the heart of today’s Gospel.
Still, all this may seem a distant reality — figures of the past, perhaps. So let me take you to more modern times, somewhere in Eastern Europe (and it is not Poland), to follow the moving story of a man who tried to understand what it means to “pray without ceasing.”
Here he is — a pilgrim, as he calls himself. On one hand, an unassuming, ordinary man; on the other, like that persistent woman. Yet, fair play to him — he is a true seeker.
He travels through his region, searching for wisdom about how to pray at all times, which, technically speaking, seems impossible. He visits one church after another; he meets this man and that. But all in vain — no one can meet his need, satisfy his spiritual longing, or answer his question.
Still, he remains persistent, and at last, after a year of searching, he meets an old monk. And with that monk, he finds his answers. The old man is able to put his soul at peace.
What does he hear from the monk? First, the monk connects him with the living tradition of the past, introducing him to a most illuminating book called Philokalia — a collection of the fruits of centuries of experience in prayer from the Greek-speaking Christian world. Within that spiritual context, the monk shows him that unceasing prayer is rooted in the poverty of one’s spirit. Doesn’t that sound like the humble tax collector from today’s Gospel — hidden at the back, not daring to raise his eyes?
But there is more. The old monk says: “Listen, and I will read [from Philokalia] how unceasing prayer is to be learned. Sit in silence and alone. Bend your head. Close your eyes. Breathe ever more quietly. With your imagination, look inside your heart. Carry your thought into your heart. As you breathe, say quietly with your lips or in your mind alone: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.’”
The tax collector, beating his breast, kept saying, “God, have mercy on me.” Jesus assures us that he went home justified — and, because of his humble prayer, he was exalted.The pilgrim left the old monk transformed — a new chapter of his spiritual life had begun.
Why not follow them in unceasingly repeating: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me”?