Podcasts about Jesus Prayer

There is something almost relentless about the teaching of the Fathers on watchfulness. They will not allow us to imagine that there comes a point in the spiritual life when vigilance is no longer necessary. Age does not free us from it. Knowledge does not free us from it. Years of prayer do not free us from it. Even great spiritual gifts do not free us from it. “As long as you are in the body, do not leave your heart unguarded.” Until the last breath. At first this can sound severe. The image given by Abba Isaiah is striking: he is like a sparrow tied by the foot. It may fly upward and imagine itself free, but the cord remains. A single tug can bring it back to the earth. Likewise, the Fathers tell us that the enemy waits at the crossroads, lays traps along the path, makes use of small thoughts and seemingly insignificant compromises, and patiently seeks an opening into the heart. Yet if we read these sayings merely as a catalogue of demonic strategies, we have misunderstood their purpose. The Evergetinos is not trying to make us fascinated with evil. Nor are the Fathers trying to produce souls that are perpetually looking over their shoulders, anxiously examining every movement of the heart. They are teaching us watchfulness because they desire something infinitely greater for us. They want us to discover how precious the heart is to God. Indeed, hidden within these rather frightening descriptions is one of the most beautiful statements in the entire passage. The enemy himself is forced to confess concerning the monks: “You and your fellow-servants have a good Master, Who speaks to you gently and watches over you as His own children.” A good Master. One who speaks gently. One who watches over us as His own children. This is the heart of the teaching. We guard the heart because God guards the heart. Our vigilance is meant to become a participation in His vigilance over us. The commandments, prayer, repentance, the remembrance of God, the cutting off of thoughts—all of these are expressions of a divine solicitude that surrounds the human person. God desires to protect within us that which He has created for Himself. He desires that nothing should enter the heart that diminishes its freedom, darkens its vision, wounds its capacity for love, or turns its desire away from Him. The Fathers therefore teach us to recognize temptations, but recognition is not the end. We do not study the passions in order to become experts in the passions. We learn their movements so that we might become free to love. This distinction is everything. One can become extraordinarily knowledgeable about the spiritual life and still remain outside of its mystery. Abba Isaiah goes so far as to say that a man might possess knowledge, perform miracles, endure hardships, and yet still find himself vulnerable. None of these things constitutes the final security of the soul. Only love does. And so the passage unexpectedly opens into the words of the Apostle: “Love never faileth… but beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.” Here the teaching reaches its true center. The Fathers are not leading us toward an ever more sophisticated fear of temptation. They are leading us toward perfect love. Watchfulness exists for love. Asceticism exists for love. The guarding of the heart exists for love. Repentance exists for love. Even the fear of God, rightly understood, is gradually drawing the soul toward that love in which fear itself is transformed. This is why the smallest thoughts matter. Not because God is fastidious or because the Christian life consists in anxiously avoiding infractions. The smallest things matter because love notices what interferes with communion. When one loves another deeply, one becomes sensitive to anything that introduces distance. So too with God. The vigilant heart begins to recognize thoughts of resentment, vainglory, judgment, self-pity, lust, anger, curiosity, or self-will not simply as violations of a rule but as movements that draw the heart away from the One whom it loves. The Fathers repeatedly tell us that great falls ordinarily begin very quietly. A thought is entertained. Then revisited. Then befriended. What first appeared insignificant gradually acquires familiarity, and familiarity acquires power. “The Devil disdains small sins; yet without them, he cannot lead man into greater sins.” But precisely the opposite is also true. Small acts of fidelity gather strength. A thought rejected for Christ. A moment of irritation surrendered. A judgment withheld. A temptation met immediately with the Jesus Prayer. A movement of vainglory quietly ignored. A moment of fear answered by trust. A suffering borne without abandoning God. These things too form habits of the heart. Grace upon grace. Fidelity upon fidelity. Love answering Love. This is why the teaching about vigilance should never leave us preoccupied with the enemy. Abba Makarios does not continue his journey thinking about the devil. He gives thanks to God and goes on his way rejoicing. That detail is extraordinarily important. The fruit of true watchfulness is not anxiety. It is thanksgiving. It is the growing realization that we are being kept. The Elder who asked to see the demons surrounding men discovered something similar. He saw them “like bees,” gnashing their teeth. Yet among them stood the Angel of the Lord rebuking them. The revelation was not given so that the Elder might become terrified by the number of demons. It revealed something far greater: the mercy of God was already there. Before we perceive the danger, God sees it. Before we understand the temptation, God knows it. Before we cry out, He has already drawn near. This is why the proper response to our weakness is not self-reliance but the prayer Abba Isaiah places continually upon our lips: Help me. Have mercy upon me. Perhaps this is one of the deepest lessons the desert has to teach us. Watchfulness eventually reveals not how strong we are but how utterly dependent we are upon God. The vigilant man discovers more and more clearly that he cannot preserve himself. And strangely, this discovery becomes peace. St. Isaac the Syrian understood this profoundly. The knowledge of one's weakness is itself a doorway into the knowledge of divine mercy. When a man begins to understand how fragile he is, he ceases trusting in himself and casts himself upon God. Then prayer becomes less an accomplishment and more a cry of the heart. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me. Not because God is reluctant to give mercy. Because mercy is already rushing toward us. This also changes the meaning of constancy. We remain vigilant until death not because God stands waiting for us to make one final mistake. We remain vigilant because love desires to remain with the Beloved until the end. The question becomes less, How do I avoid falling? And more: How do I remain with Him? This is the deeper meaning of guarding the heart. To remain. To abide. To keep the inner door turned toward Christ. To allow nothing to become more compelling than His presence. There will always be thoughts. There will always be temptations. There will always be some cord around the foot of the sparrow as long as we remain in this present life. The Fathers are remarkably sober about this. There is no moment when we may say, “Now I am beyond danger.” But neither is there a moment when we are beyond mercy. And perhaps that is what gives watchfulness its tenderness. We do not stand guard alone. The One who tells us to watch is Himself watching over us. The One who tells us to guard the heart has already claimed that heart as His dwelling. The One who warns us against the snares of the enemy does so because He desires our freedom infinitely more than we do. He does not expose the traps in order to frighten His children. He exposes them because He loves His children. And gradually the spiritual life becomes less and less a struggle to defend ourselves and more an abandonment to this love. We discover that the safest place for the heart is not in its own vigilance, strength, knowledge, or experience. It is in Him. So until the last breath we watch. Until the last breath we repent. Until the last breath we cry out. Until the last breath we refuse the thought that would carry us away. But beneath all of this there is something deeper and quieter: we allow ourselves to be drawn. Drawn by mercy. Drawn by beauty. Drawn by the gentleness of the good Master. Drawn by the One who has watched over us as His children from the beginning. And perhaps, in the end, perfect watchfulness is simply this: to love Him so deeply that the heart no longer wishes to go anywhere else. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:24:33 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 59, first paragraph on page, above #9 00:27:52 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 59, #10 00:31:33 James Hickman: The tug doesn't seem to be with the most tremendous force either, for the feeling or illusion of freedom or thinking in pride that we have overcome our vices, we get a tiny jerk on the rope and get caught off guard, falling hard. I see in my own life, I think a certain sin is behind me and then seemingly out of nowhere a tiny tug sends me hurling down, crashing and burning. 00:32:26 Forrest: Reacted to "The tug doesn't seem to be with the most tremendous force either, for the feeling or illusion of freedom or thinking in pride that we have overcome our vices, we get a tiny jerk on the rope and get caught off guard, falling hard. I see in my own life, I think a certain sin is behind me and then seemingly out of nowhere a tiny tug sends me hurling down, crashing and burning." with

There are passages in St. Isaac that can sound almost impossible to modern ears. His words on vigil are among them. “Do not imagine,” he tells us, “that among all the works of monastics there is any practice greater than night vigil.” We hear such words and immediately think of sleep deprivation, bodily exhaustion, long hours of psalmody, standing in darkness while the rest of the world sleeps. We wonder whether such a practice belongs to another age, another kind of human being, perhaps even another understanding of the spiritual life. But this is precisely where we can misunderstand Isaac. Vigil becomes incomprehensible when it is separated from desire. If we begin with asceticism, vigil appears severe. If we begin with love, it begins to make sense. The lover understands the night. There are moments when we do not want an evening to end because we are with someone we love. There are conversations in which we cease looking at the clock. A mother remains awake beside a sick child without calculating the sacrifice. Someone awaiting the return of the beloved listens for every sound in the night. Love changes our experience of time. And so it is with the saints. They did not remain awake because they despised sleep. They remained awake because they had discovered Someone for whom it was worth losing sleep. This is the secret of vigil. “That I May Be With You” The Fathers understood the spiritual life far less as the fulfillment of religious obligations than as the awakening of desire. Beneath fasting, silence, solitude, tears, prostrations, psalmody, and vigil lies a single movement of the heart: I want God. Not merely His gifts. Not consolation. Not religious experiences. Not even virtue considered as a possession. God Himself. This is why St. Isaac describes the mind of the one who keeps vigil as becoming light and buoyant, taking flight “as it were on wings.” The ascetic is not merely staying awake. Something within him is being released. During the day the mind is scattered among a thousand things. We speak. We answer. We plan. We remember. We anticipate. We defend ourselves. We attend to necessities. Even when these things are good, the heart becomes divided among them. Then comes the night. The voices diminish. The demands cease. The world grows quiet. And the soul discovers again the One whom it has been seeking beneath everything else. This is why vigil was so precious to the Desert Fathers and remains so in the teaching of the great modern elders. It creates a space in which the heart can become undivided. The night says: There is nowhere else I need to go. There is nothing I need to accomplish. There is no one before whom I need to justify myself. There is only God. And I am here. The Recovery of Wonder Yet there is something even deeper in Isaac's teaching. Vigil is not merely about attention. It is about wonder. Isaac tells us that the one who perseveres in vigil begins to “gaze upon” heavenly realities. His language is deliberately extravagant: the soul comes to possess “the eyes of Cherubim.” What does this mean? It means that purification changes how we see. The tragedy of fallen existence is not simply that we commit sins. It is that we gradually cease to be astonished by God. We become accustomed to everything. Accustomed to the Gospel. Accustomed to the Eucharist. Accustomed to the name of Jesus. Accustomed to the Cross. Accustomed even to the astonishing claim that the Creator of heaven and earth desires communion with us. And when wonder disappears, desire soon weakens with it. The Fathers knew that the heart must be awakened again. This is one reason vigil has such power. In the silence of the night, familiar words can suddenly become new. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God…” We may have spoken those words ten thousand times. Yet in the stillness something can happen. Jesus. The Name becomes luminous. God is here. God sees me. God desires me. God has called me into existence that I might share His life. And suddenly prayer is no longer something we are performing. It is encounter. Wonder gives birth to desire, and desire gives birth to greater attention. Then the soul begins to understand why the saints stayed awake. The Vigil of the Lover This is why we must be careful not to turn Isaac's teaching into another spiritual program. Stay awake longer. Say more psalms. Sleep less. Accumulate hours. Isaac himself warns against precisely this distortion. A person may endure “prolonged psalmody,” weariness of the tongue, and “night-long standing,” and yet receive little fruit because the mind is elsewhere. The body is standing before God while the heart is wandering through the world. Isaac asks, with characteristic directness: Why sow so much seed if we continually prevent it from bearing fruit? Vigil without attention becomes habit. Vigil without desire becomes endurance. Vigil without love becomes religious achievement. And religious achievement can quietly feed the very ego that asceticism is meant to dismantle. The true vigil begins somewhere deeper. Stay with Me. This is the invitation hidden within the night. Christ in Gethsemane asked His disciples, “Could you not watch with me one hour?” Perhaps every vigil is, in some mysterious way, our answer to that question. Yes, Lord. I will stay. Not because I am strong. Not because I am an ascetic. Not because I want to imagine myself among the saints. I stay because You are here. Why Vigil Requires the Day This also explains something that Isaac emphasizes strongly and that can easily be overlooked. The vigil cannot be separated from the way we live during the day. If we spend the day deliberately filling the mind with noise, agitation, curiosity, argument, distraction, and endless encounters, we should not be surprised if those same things accompany us into prayer at night. Isaac therefore insists that the monk who desires the fruit of vigil must guard himself from unnecessary disturbance during the day. This is not contempt for the world. It is custody of the heart. The Fathers understood something about human consciousness that our age desperately needs to rediscover: what we give ourselves to leaves traces within us. Everything enters the heart. Images. Conversations. Arguments. News. Resentments. Fantasies. Fears. The opinions of others. The desire to be seen. The need to respond. The mind carries these things into silence. Thus vigil actually begins long before nightfall. It begins with how we guard the heart throughout the day. The School of Freedom This is one reason the disappearance of vigil from much contemporary Christian life is significant. We have not merely lost an ascetical practice. We have lost one of the great schools of desire, attention, and freedom. The modern world teaches us to flee silence. It places a device in our hand capable of filling every empty moment. It trains the eyes to seek novelty and the mind to expect constant stimulation. The Fathers move in precisely the opposite direction. Be still. Remain. Watch. Wait. Listen. Do not flee the emptiness. Because eventually you may discover that it was never empty. Someone was waiting for you there. The purpose of vigil is not to prove that we can conquer the body. It is to become free enough to recognize the presence of the Beloved. “I Sleep, but My Heart Is Awake” The goal, then, is ultimately something greater than remaining physically awake. The goal is wakefulness of heart. “I sleep, but my heart is awake,” says the Bride in the Song of Songs. There is the mystery. The deepest vigil eventually becomes a state of the soul. A person begins to live before God. The Jesus Prayer continues beneath thought. The remembrance of God becomes increasingly continuous. The heart waits for Him. Looks toward Him. Listens for Him. Desires Him. This is the angelic quality Isaac sees in vigil. The angels do not merely “stay awake.” They exist in ceaseless attention to God. Their life is beholding. And Isaac dares to say that through vigil the human person begins to participate in this same movement. The eyes of the heart open. Wonder returns. Desire intensifies. Prayer deepens. The mind grows light. And gradually the soul discovers that the ascetical life is not fundamentally a life of deprivation. It is a life of fascination. The Night Is Not Empty Perhaps this is what we most need to recover from Isaac. We will never understand the asceticism of the Fathers if we begin with what they gave up. We must begin with what they saw. They saw a Beauty before which the beauties of the world grew pale. They tasted a sweetness that made lesser consolations seem small. They discovered a Love so immense that solitude became communion, silence became fullness, fasting became hunger for God, and vigil became the refusal to leave the presence of the Beloved. This is why the teaching on vigil belongs so naturally beside the language of desire and wonder. The ascetic does not remain awake merely because a rule commands it. He has glimpsed something. And because he has glimpsed it, he wants to see more. Wonder awakens desire. Desire gathers the scattered heart. The gathered heart becomes attentive. Attention becomes prayer. And prayer becomes communion. Then something remarkable happens. What once appeared burdensome becomes precious. The night that once seemed long becomes too short. Silence that once frightened us becomes the place we long to enter. And the prayer that once seemed an obligation becomes something from which we are reluctant to depart. The saints kept vigil because they discovered that the night was not empty. The Beloved was there. And once the heart knows this, the deepest question is no longer: Why would anyone remain awake to pray? It becomes: How could love not want to remain? --- Text of chat during the group: 00:18:08 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 222, Homily 20 00:23:28 David Swiderski: The last time we discussed this and sleeping 8 hours straight and for most of time people at least in Europe slept "2" times I went back to my Grandfather's diary and it appears the wood stoves in Northern Wisconsin only lasted 4hrs and you would need to get up and feed the fire so they naturally did vigils and took advantage of the break in sleep. In Spain and Latina America they have a nap in some areas due to the heat (2 hour lunch) and are up till 1 or 2 am. It seems modern western society is a new adaptation of what was a practice for hundreds of years. 00:25:10 Ryan Ngeve: Father what is one to do if these practices and deprivations make us more agitated/irritated and downcast, especially towards  others, as they tend to do? 00:39:01 Gwen's iPhone: my cat does! 00:39:24 James Hickman: Is it safe to call vigils a means to the end, which is nearness to the Lord, such that a super practical means to find closeness with the Lord is this watching for him when there are fewer distractions (not that we are safe from distractions in the night, but that the many combating us in the day are perhaps different in kind or number than those distractions of the night)? 00:42:15 Rod Castillo: I pray my daily rosary at 2 am.  It's the only time the house is quiet enough to allow me to devote myself completely to it. 00:43:46 James Hickman: Reacted to "I pray my daily rosary at 2 am.  It's the only time the house is quiet enough to allow me to devote myself completely to it." with

In this episode of The Winston Marshall Show, I sit down with former Harvard professor and bestselling author Arthur Brooks for a conversation on happiness, meaning, smartphones, faith, and why modern life is making us miserable. We discuss the hidden cost of constant distraction, Gen Z's mental health crisis, prayer, suffering, social media, and why a meaningful life requires boredom, real relationships, and a deeper connection with God. A fascinating conversation about happiness, purpose, and what it truly means to live well.LIVE EVENT: Is Islam compatible with the West? Get your discounted first release tickets now before they sell out: https://winstonmarshall.eventbrite.co.uk I can't wait for you to join us in London for one of the most important debates of our timeOur show is independently supported by you, consider signing up to our substack to get added benefits like ad-free and extended episodes here: https://www.winstonmarshall.co.uk/Chapters00:00 Why Your Phone Is Making Life Feel Meaningless02:02 Why We Need Boredom09:01 Prayer, Meditation & the Brain12:55 The Jesus Prayer & Daily Prayer18:48 What Smartphones Have Done to Gen Z24:38 Can Gen Z Reverse the Damage?25:40 Why Dating Apps Make Finding Love Harder29:43 Should Children Have Smartphones?33:39 Gen Z's Crisis of Meaning38:46 Why Suffering Is Necessary

Our lives are in the hands of the Lord. Our ability to call upon the name of Jesus helps us to give us instruction, to neutralize our fears or temptation, and to unify us with God. One way to start is through the Jesus prayer. It goes “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”Join Fr. James Brent, O.P., in Episode 60 of Contemplata, The Jesus Prayer, and learn a simple, but powerful, prayer to God. Contemplata is available wherever you get your podcasts.Follow us on:Instagram: ​​​​@contemplatapodcastYoutube: https://www.youtube.com/DominicanFriarsMediaSupport: If you want to support this podcast, please visit dominicanfriars.org/contemplata

What if one of the best ways to learn how to pray is to borrow the words God has already given us? Greg and Nathan continue the Life in the Word series by exploring the ancient practice of praying Scripture back to God. From the Psalms Jesus prayed on the cross to Benedictine monks praying the entire Psalter each week, they look at how God's Word can reshape not only our prayers, but our desires. They also explore practices like Lectio Divina, fixed-hour prayer, and the "Jesus Prayer". They then consider what it means to pray faithfully even when the words don't seem to match how we feel. Join Greg and Nathan as they discover that sometimes the best words to pray aren't our own.

There is a great mercy hidden within these unsettling sayings from the Evergetinos. The Desert Fathers do not speak to us about spiritual warfare in order to make us preoccupied with the devil. They speak about it so that we might become sober, humble, and utterly dependent upon Christ. This is one of the great blessings the Desert Fathers continue to offer the Church. They expose what ordinarily remains hidden. Modern man tends to imagine temptation almost exclusively in terms of dramatic moral choices. We think of sin as something obvious placed before the will: Will I do this or will I not? But the Fathers understood the human heart far more subtly. Long before the temptation becomes an obvious choice, something has often already begun moving within us: a thought entertained, an irritation indulged, a desire awakened, an image cherished, a conversation replayed, praise secretly enjoyed, an injury remembered, a judgment formed, prayer postponed. The enemy rarely begins by asking us to renounce God. He asks only that we become slightly inattentive. And so Abba Simon gives us one of the most important sentences in tonight's reading: “Keep watch inside your cell, and keep watch outside it.” The brother cannot understand why he leaves his cell, becomes caught up in the distraction of others, laughs when they laugh, talks when they talk, and then discovers upon returning that the peace he formerly possessed has disappeared. He wants to move between recollection and distraction without consequence. Abba Simon tells him gently but firmly: That is impossible. The heart carries within itself what it consents to. This is why nepsis—watchfulness—is so central to the spirituality of the desert. The Fathers discovered that the cell is not merely a physical room. Ultimately, the cell is the heart. We must learn to inhabit it wherever we are. Solitude without vigilance will not save us, nor will activity necessarily destroy us. What matters is whether the heart remains awake before God. The modern elders say the same. St. Porphyrios continually warned against becoming fascinated with darkness. We do not overcome darkness by staring at it. We turn toward Christ. St. Paisios likewise spoke with great realism about the suggestions of the enemy, yet his emphasis was always upon humility and trust in God. St. Silouan and St. Sophrony understood perhaps most deeply that spiritual warfare is finally a battle over where the heart will abide: in itself or in Christ. This is precisely why these passages must never be read merely intellectually. We can study the taxonomy of temptation and still remain utterly blind to ourselves. Indeed, that may itself become another temptation. The moment I read these sayings and begin identifying the passions of other people, I have already missed their purpose. The proper response is much simpler: There but for the grace of God go I. “Satan Is Not Dead” Perhaps the most sobering saying tonight is the Elder's response to the man who declares, “I am dead to the world.” “You may say that you are dead, but Satan is not dead.” What extraordinary spiritual realism. The Fathers distrust premature declarations about ourselves. I have conquered this passion. I am beyond that temptation. This no longer affects me. I have reached dispassion. I understand myself now. No. The desert teaches us never to presume upon yesterday's victory. This is not because the Fathers are pessimistic about grace. Quite the opposite. They are so convinced of the power of grace that they refuse to confuse grace with human self-confidence. A man who knows his weakness can be extraordinarily strong because he clings to Christ. A man convinced of his strength is already standing dangerously alone. This is why the account of the dying monk is so striking. Satan says, “You have eluded me,” and even then the Elder replies: “I do not yet know whether I have eluded you.” There is no spiritual swagger here. No confidence in accomplishments. No inventory of virtues. Only vigilance until the final breath. The Trembling of Agathon Then comes Abba Agathon. He has spent his life seeking God. Yet as death approaches and the brothers ask whether he is confident that his deeds have been pleasing to God, he answers: “God's judgment is one thing, man's another.” This is not neurotic scrupulosity. It is humility purified of illusion. Agathon knows something we continually forget: we cannot finally stand outside ourselves and judge our own souls. Even our virtues may contain admixtures we cannot perceive. Generosity may conceal a hunger to be needed. Zeal may conceal anger. Orthodoxy may conceal pride. Asceticism may conceal self-reliance. Service may conceal the desire for recognition. Even repentance itself can become subtly self-absorbed. Therefore Agathon places himself entirely before God. And notice how the story ends. He dies in joy. This is crucial. The humility of the Desert Fathers does not lead to despair. It leads to freedom. Agathon has nothing left to defend. Nothing to prove. Nothing to claim for himself. He places everything into the hands of God and ascends “as one who greets his friends and loved ones.” True humility ends in joy because it has surrendered the impossible burden of saving itself. The Vessels of the Enemy The extraordinary vision of Abba Makarios brings all of this together. The devil appears covered with vessels containing different means of temptation. One attacks prayer with drowsiness. Another Scripture with physical discomfort. Another obedience. Another chastity. Another speech. Another appetite. Another humility through pride. Another virtue through vainglory. Another remembrance of eternity through forgetfulness. The image may seem strange to us, but its psychological and spiritual insight is profound. The enemy studies where we are vulnerable. He does not tempt everyone identically. And more importantly, he frequently attacks us precisely where we are seeking God. When we pray, suddenly we become tired. When we seek silence, a hundred apparently urgent thoughts arise. When we begin fasting, food occupies our imagination. When we perform some good work, we begin wondering whether anyone noticed. When God gives us spiritual insight, we subtly begin thinking ourselves spiritually insightful. When we experience grace, we may begin secretly believing that the grace belongs to us. Even virtue can become the material of temptation. This is why Makarios sees vessels around the devil's neck filled with pride and human glory. The enemy does not care whether he captures us through obvious vice or apparent virtue. He cares only that the gaze of the heart moves away from Christ and returns to itself. And perhaps the most frightening vessel is the one containing forgetfulness. The enemy makes “the memory of these things disappear.” Forgetfulness is not simply poor memory. In the language of the Fathers, it is an existential forgetfulness of God. We forget who we are. We forget whose we are. We forget death. We forget judgment. We forget mercy. We forget the Kingdom. We forget the presence of Christ. And once remembrance disappears, almost anything can enter. This is why the Jesus Prayer is so powerful. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.” It is remembrance restored. The Name gathers the scattered heart. The Name interrupts the conversation with the logismoi. The Name returns us to Presence. Sitting With the Fathers This is why we need to journey with the Desert Fathers rather than merely read them. Their sayings are not curiosities from an exotic period of Christian history. They are maps of the human heart. We should read them slowly enough that they begin reading us. Where am I inattentive? Where have I become confident in myself? What thought do I repeatedly entertain? Where do I seek human approval? What happens to my heart after certain conversations? What destroys my recollection? What makes prayer difficult? Where has forgetfulness entered? And above all: Where am I relying upon myself rather than Christ? These questions should not produce anxiety. They should produce humility. The Desert Fathers were not obsessed with demons. They were captivated by God. Precisely because they desired God so intensely, they learned to recognize everything that sought to draw the heart away from Him. And they knew they did not fight alone. We live within the communion of the Church. The angels surround us. The saints intercede for us. The Mother of God shelters us. The prayers of the Church carry us. Our guardian angel accompanies us. And the Name of Jesus is placed upon our lips. The evil one may indeed be relentless. But he is not sovereign. Christ is. Makarios can interrogate the devil precisely because Christ has already conquered him. The powers of darkness are exposed because the Light has come into the world. And so vigilance is not fearfully watching for Satan behind every movement of life. Vigilance is keeping the heart turned toward Christ. The safest person spiritually is therefore not the one who thinks, I would never fall into that. It is the one who whispers: Lord, without You I could fall into anything. Keep me. Guard my heart. Give me remembrance of You. Send Your holy angels to protect me. Through the prayers of Your saints, preserve me from deception. And then we understand why we must keep returning to the desert. The Fathers know the terrain. They have watched thoughts arise and disappear. They have suffered temptation. They have fallen and risen. They have learned the terrible danger of self-confidence and the astonishing strength hidden in humility. They take us by the hand and teach us to watch. Inside the cell. Outside the cell. Until our final breath. Not because we are terrified of the darkness, but because we have discovered something infinitely more beautiful that we do not wish to lose sight of: the face of Christ. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:08:04 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Volume 3 page 54 number 3 00:56:55 James Hickman: In the past year or so, certain Catholic exorcists have come under attack for describing a bit of their healing ministry. For instance, some attack the priests for revealing that the devil has told them x, y, or z. The attackers, who only seem to attack the priests behind their backs, say that the priests are either lying or that they've been misled by the devil, for the demons can't be trusted. I trust these priests, and here Abba Macarius is just one more witness to the power of the Church to compel the demons, if it be God's holy will, to share what otherwise we wouldn't know. I suppose I'm sharing this hoping more of us will pray for these exorcists and for priests in general. Abba Macarius, pray for us! 01:04:00 Forrest: The appearance of the Devil in this story reminds me of an earlier hypothesis where a great saint laughed at a group of demons struggling to lift a single feather.  How hard it was for them! Here the Prince of Demons wears many vessels with feathers attached. 01:04:25 Adam Paige: The 35 Doctors of the Church: Revised Edition by Rev. Christopher Rengers, O.F.M. Cap 01:18:27 Rebecca Thérèse: Uriah the Hittite 01:20:25 Julie: Thank you

This talk was given by Rev Steve Clarke at St Jude's Church, Southsea on 9th August 2026. The reading was Psalm 46. Psalm 46 is one of the best-known psalms in the Bible, often read on Remembrance Sunday, with its famous line "Be still and know that I am God." In this talk, we explore what this ancient hymn — written against the backdrop of the threatened Assyrian invasion of Jerusalem — has to say to us today, in a world of war, uncertainty and personal struggle. Along the way, we look at how the sea and stormy waters are pictured in Scripture, from Genesis to Revelation, and how Jesus calming the storm shows us a God who is both with us in the boat and over the waves. Beginning with a vivid memory of watching a dry riverbed in South Wales become a rushing river, the talk traces three widening circles of hope in the psalm: God is over and in the chaos of our lives, of our city, and of all things. There is a warm invitation to prayer-walk the streets of Southsea, praying for the river of God's love to flow through the city, and the talk closes with a guided time of stillness using a contemporary form of the ancient Jesus Prayer. Whether you're a regular churchgoer or simply exploring faith, this is a thoughtful and encouraging listen for anxious times.

The Name Above Every Name Conference Four Becoming Prayer When the Name Becomes Our Life “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” — Galatians 2:20 Over these past conferences we have spoken of receiving the holy Name, guarding the heart, and learning to stand before God with a broken spirit. All of these are necessary. Yet none of them is the destination. The Jesus Prayer is not an achievement. It is not even the highest form of prayer. It is a road. It leads somewhere. Or rather, it leads to Someone. Its purpose is not that we should become occupied with prayer. Its purpose is that we should become occupied with Christ. Everything else is secondary. ⸻⸻⸻ When the Fathers speak of unceasing prayer, they do not imagine a person anxiously repeating words every moment of the day. Such an understanding would quickly become exhausting. Rather, they speak of a heart that has learned never to depart from Christ. The words remain precious. They accompany us throughout our life. Yet gradually the relationship they express becomes more important than the words themselves. The prayer begins on our lips. It descends into the mind. It finds rest in the heart. Finally, it becomes the atmosphere in which we live. Not because we are continually conscious of it. But because Christ has quietly become the center of everything. ⸻⸻⸻ This is why Archimandrite Zacharias insists that the measure of prayer is not extraordinary experiences. The measure is love. Has the heart become more patient? More forgiving? More merciful? More truthful? More humble? If not, then no matter how many prayers have been recited, the purpose has been missed. The true miracle of the Jesus Prayer is not mystical phenomena. It is the slow transformation of a human being into the likeness of Christ. ⸻⸻⸻ 2 There is a temptation that comes even in the spiritual life. We begin to love prayer more than we love God. We become attached to certain feelings. Certain consolations. Certain moments of peace. When they disappear, we imagine we have lost everything. The Fathers quietly remind us that God sometimes removes sensible consolation so that we may seek Him alone. The Bride must learn to love the Bridegroom more than His gifts. Only then does love become pure. ⸻⸻⸻ One of the most beautiful teachings of St. Silouan, so often repeated by Elder Sophrony and Archimandrite Zacharias, is that the heart gradually becomes capable of embracing the whole Adam. At first we pray for ourselves. Then for those closest to us. Then for those we love. Eventually, grace begins to enlarge the heart. We discover ourselves praying for strangers. For enemies. For those who have forgotten God. For those who have wounded us. For those who have never known love. 3 The circle widens until there are no longer any outsiders. This is not something we accomplish. It is something Christ accomplishes within us. His own love begins to beat within the human heart. ⸻⸻⸻ The Jesus Prayer therefore has a profoundly priestly character. Every baptized Christian is called to stand before God on behalf of the world. We bring before Him those who cannot pray. Those who no longer believe. Those crushed by despair. Those trapped in addiction. Those overwhelmed by grief. Those who have forgotten even their own dignity. We carry them quietly within our hearts. Not because we are strong enough. But because Christ carries them within His. Prayer becomes participation in His own intercession before the Father. ⸻⸻⸻ There is another fruit that often goes unnoticed. The heart becomes grateful. Not merely thankful when life is pleasant. 4 Grateful always. The one who continually invokes the Name slowly discovers that every breath is gift. Every sunrise. Every meal. Every encounter. Every sorrow. Even suffering becomes a place where Christ may be found. Thanksgiving begins to permeate ordinary life. The Eucharist extends into every hour of the day. ⸻⸻⸻ The Fathers speak often of stillness. Many misunderstand this word. Stillness is not merely external silence. Nor is it freedom from activity. Stillness is the quiet confidence that Christ is present. A person may live in a monastery or in a crowded city. He may spend his days alone or surrounded by people. Stillness is possible wherever the heart has learned to remain with Christ. The Jesus Prayer becomes the guardian of this hidden peace. ⸻⸻⸻ As years pass, the prayer itself often becomes simpler. Sometimes the full prayer is spoken. 5 Sometimes only the holy Name. Sometimes no words at all. Only the silent awareness of His presence. The Fathers do not prescribe these movements. Grace teaches each soul according to its need. The important thing is never to abandon humility. The closer we draw to Christ, the more clearly we perceive that everything is gift. Nothing has been earned. Everything has been received. ⸻⸻⸻ Perhaps this explains why the greatest saints seem so ordinary. They do not appear remarkable. They seldom speak about themselves. They rarely attract attention. Having forgotten themselves, they have become transparent to Christ. People leave their presence remembering Him rather than them. This is the hidden victory of the Jesus Prayer. Not that we become known as holy. But that Christ alone becomes visible. ⸻⸻⸻ When we first began this retreat, we asked a simple question. 6 Why this Name? Now perhaps we may answer it. Because within this Name dwells the whole mystery of our salvation. The humility of Bethlehem. The obedience of Nazareth. The compassion shown to sinners. The tears shed over Jerusalem. The Cross. The silence of Holy Saturday. The glory of the Resurrection. The fire of Pentecost. Everything is contained within the Person whose Name we invoke. Each time we whisper, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me,” we stand before the whole mystery of the Gospel. Nothing essential is absent. ⸻⸻⸻ Soon this retreat will end. We shall return to our homes. To our families. To our work. To our responsibilities. 7 The hidden battle will continue. Distractions will return. Weakness will remain. But now the holy Name goes with us. It accompanies every step. It enters every conversation. It sanctifies every sorrow. It illumines every joy. Little by little, almost unnoticed, Christ Himself begins to gather the scattered fragments of our lives into a single offering to the Father. This is the true work of the Jesus Prayer. Not escape from the world. But the transfiguration of the heart within the world. ⸻⸻⸻ Let us therefore ask for no extraordinary gifts. Let us ask only for faithfulness. May the Name of Jesus remain upon our lips in times of joy and in times of grief. May it guard us in temptation. Strengthen us in weakness. Console us in loneliness. Humble us in success. Sustain us in suffering. 8 And at the hour of our death, when every earthly support has fallen away, may the holy Name still be found within our hearts—not as a formula we have mastered, but as the living presence of the Friend who has walked beside us all our lives. For in the end, the greatest fruit of the Jesus Prayer is not that we have learned to repeat the Name of Christ. It is that, through His infinite mercy, the Name of Christ has slowly written itself upon our hearts. And when that has happened, prayer has become life, and life itself has become an unending hymn of love to the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit. Amen. 9

The Fathers never speak of the spiritual life as though it were merely the acquisition of virtues or the mastery of disciplines. At its heart, it is the slow awakening of a human being who learns once again to see. The battlefield is not first the world around us but the hidden kingdom within us. It is there, in the silence of the heart, that every thought seeks entrance, every desire asks for consent, and every movement of the soul quietly bends either toward God or away from Him. It is therefore no accident that this section of the Evergetinos begins with the conscience. The Fathers do not present conscience as a private opinion, nor as a passing feeling of guilt or innocence. They speak of it as “nature's book,” a living text written by the Creator Himself within the human heart. Before there were libraries, before there were theological treatises, before there were even spiritual fathers to guide us, God had already inscribed His law upon the depths of our being. The conscience remains that quiet witness which never ceases to speak, even when every other voice has fallen silent. St. Maximos therefore urges us not to despise it. Every time we ignore that gentle movement toward truth, every time we silence its warnings because they are inconvenient or uncomfortable, we do not simply reject an inner feeling. We reject a gift through which God Himself seeks to lead us. Yet the Fathers also understand that conscience is not formed automatically. Like every faculty of the soul, it can become clouded through neglect, distorted through the passions, or nearly inaudible beneath the constant noise of our own thoughts. Thus prayer and conscience belong together. A purified conscience gives birth to pure prayer, while genuine prayer steadily purifies the conscience. Each heals and strengthens the other until the heart gradually becomes transparent before God. This is why the Fathers place such extraordinary emphasis upon vigilance. The ascetic life is not one of anxious self-analysis but of loving attentiveness. One learns to ask, “From where has this thought arisen? Toward whom does it lead me? Does it draw me toward Christ, toward humility, toward peace, toward love, or does it leave me agitated, suspicious, self-absorbed, fearful, or filled with hidden resentment?” Such questions are not psychological exercises. They are acts of spiritual discernment. How beautiful that the Evergetinos allows us here to hear the voice of St. Synkletike. Her presence reminds us that the wisdom of the desert is not confined to the fathers alone. The mothers stand beside them as equal witnesses to the Gospel lived with radical seriousness. Their lives reveal dimensions of spiritual perception that enrich the whole Church. To hear Synkletike is to hear a mother whose authority has been forged in prayer, suffering, and long experience of the hidden warfare of the heart. Her image of the ship is unforgettable. Storms from without may batter the vessel, yet the greater danger often lies beneath the surface, where unnoticed water slowly fills the hold while everyone sleeps. So too the Christian is often preoccupied with visible temptations, external conflicts, and the sins of the world, while paying little attention to the quiet accumulation of interior movements that slowly weigh down the soul. A single grievance carefully preserved, a subtle spirit of self-importance, an unnoticed judgment against another, a conversation endlessly replayed within the imagination—these may appear insignificant, yet left unattended they become the hidden water that eventually sinks the ship. The modern elders speak with precisely the same realism. St. Sophrony taught that every thought should first be brought before Christ before it is welcomed into the heart. Elder Aimilianos describes the spiritual life as learning to stand watch over the entrance of the heart with peaceful sobriety. Elder Thaddeus reminds us that “our thoughts determine our lives,” not because thoughts possess magical power, but because every thought eventually shapes the disposition of the heart from which all our actions flow. The enemy rarely begins by demanding great sins. He is content to suggest one small thought that is entertained rather than examined, one interior conversation that slowly becomes an identity, one fear that quietly replaces trust in God. The Desert Fathers therefore become extraordinary physicians of attention. They teach us that the first victory is often not found in dramatic acts of asceticism but in recognizing a thought before it becomes a passion. The battle is won while the spark is still small, before it has become a consuming fire. Yet all of this vigilance must be understood correctly. It is never a turning inward born of fear. The goal is not endless introspection. The Fathers are not asking us to become preoccupied with ourselves but to become increasingly available to Christ. We guard the heart because it has become His dwelling place. We examine our thoughts because we desire that His voice, rather than every competing voice, might become the one we recognize most readily. Perhaps this is why Abba Bessarion's final words were that the monk should become “all eyes.” He was not describing suspicion but wakefulness. He envisioned a heart so illumined by grace that nothing enters unnoticed and nothing is judged apart from the light of Christ. In our own age, this teaching may be more urgent than ever. Never has the human heart been so relentlessly surrounded by competing voices, endless images, constant information, and unceasing commentary. Discernment has become one of the greatest ascetical tasks of our generation. We must learn once again to distinguish between the voice of conscience and the voice of shame, between the prompting of the Holy Spirit and the agitation of fear, between divine conviction and the endless accusations of the evil one. Only a heart that has grown quiet through prayer can make such distinctions. And perhaps that is where the Evergetinos gently leaves us. Not with fear of the battle, but with hope. God has not abandoned us to navigate these waters alone. He has placed within us the witness of conscience. He has given us the wisdom of the Fathers and Mothers. He has surrounded us with the prayers of the saints. Above all, He has given us His own Spirit, who patiently teaches us to recognize His voice amid every other voice. The vigilant heart is not merely watchful. It is a heart that has learned whom it is listening for. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:01:11 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 52 saying 5 00:07:28 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/coming-soon-the-name-above-every-name 00:08:08 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 52 saying 5 00:12:59 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/coming-soon-the-name-above-every-name 00:15:22 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 52 saying 5 00:16:17 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/coming-soon-the-name-above-every-name 00:28:30 Una: Can you give an example? 00:28:44 Una: Of acting with conscience in a difficult situation. 00:32:01 Janine:

The Name Above Every Name Conference Three The Broken Heart and the Descent into the Heart Learning to Stand Before God “The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.” — Psalm 51:17 There comes a moment in every authentic spiritual life when we discover that we cannot pray as we imagined we would. We begin with generous resolutions. We set aside time. We struggle to be faithful. We seek recollection. Yet gradually another discovery is made. The deepest obstacle to prayer is not distraction. It is ourselves. Not because we are evil. But because our hearts have become divided. Part of us longs for God. Another part clings to the world. Part of us desires silence. Another part fears it. Part of us seeks Christ. Another part still wishes to preserve itself. Prayer slowly uncovers this division. Not to discourage us. But to heal us. ⸻⸻⸻ Archimandrite Zacharias often says that the purpose of the spiritual life is not simply to become moral. It is to acquire a heart capable of standing before the living God. That is a very different thing. Many people imagine holiness as flawless behavior. The saints speak instead of relationship. A man may appear outwardly blameless while never allowing God near his heart. Another may come before God in tears, unable even to lift up his eyes, and return home justified. The difference is not perfection. It is truth. God can only fill the heart that has ceased pretending. ⸻⸻⸻ This is why repentance occupies such a central place in the Jesus Prayer. “Have mercy on me.” These words are not born of self-hatred. Nor are they the cry of someone obsessed with guilt. They are the language of love. 2 Only someone who has glimpsed the beauty of Christ can grieve over the ways he has turned from Him. Repentance is therefore not primarily looking at ourselves. It is looking at Christ. His light reveals everything. Not harshly. Tenderly. Like the rising sun that slowly illumines a valley still covered in morning mist. Nothing is forced. Everything is revealed in love. ⸻⸻⸻ The Fathers distinguish between remorse and repentance. Remorse circles endlessly around itself. Repentance turns toward God. Remorse says, “I have failed.” Repentance says, “Lord, have mercy.” Remorse ends in discouragement. Repentance opens the door to hope. This distinction is essential. Many sincere Christians carry burdens Christ never asked them to carry. 3 They believe continual self-accusation is humility. It is not. True humility forgets itself because it has become absorbed in Christ. The humble man knows his poverty. But he knows God's mercy even more. ⸻⸻⸻ Archimandrite Zacharias writes often about standing before God. This expression appears again and again. It is wonderfully simple. Prayer is not first speaking. Nor thinking. Nor even feeling. Prayer is standing. Standing before the Face of Christ. Standing in truth. Standing in poverty. Standing in hope. Everything else gradually unfolds from this. Sometimes words disappear. Sometimes thoughts become quiet. Sometimes only tears remain. 4 The Fathers are not disturbed by this. The heart has begun to speak. ⸻⸻⸻ One of the greatest gifts God grants us is the knowledge of our own weakness. Strangely, we usually resist this gift. We prefer strength. Competence. Success. Spiritual progress. God often gives something different. He allows us to encounter ourselves. Not to humiliate us. But to make us truthful. Without this knowledge, compassion remains shallow. We judge others because we have never seen ourselves. Once we have stood honestly before God, judgment becomes almost impossible. We recognize the same poverty within ourselves. And mercy begins to flow naturally. ⸻⸻⸻ The publican in the Temple becomes the icon of this prayer. He possesses nothing. No arguments. 5 No achievements. No excuses. He simply stands. “God, be merciful to me.” Nothing more. The Fathers never tire of returning to this image because it reveals the true posture of prayer. The Kingdom belongs to those who have nothing left except God. ⸻⸻⸻ There is another mystery hidden here. As repentance deepens, the heart begins to enlarge. This seems impossible. One might imagine continual repentance making a person smaller. The opposite occurs. Pride narrows the heart. Humility expands it. The more we stand honestly before Christ, the more room He creates within us. We begin to carry others. Their grief no longer feels foreign. Their wounds become our concern. Prayer quietly widens until it embraces the whole Adam. This is why the saints wept. 6 Not because they despaired. But because their hearts had become vast. ⸻⸻⸻ Archimandrite Zacharias frequently speaks of bearing shame. This language can trouble modern ears. Yet he uses it with profound care. The shame he describes is not humiliation inflicted by others. Nor is it psychological self-contempt. It is the willingness to stand before God without hiding. Adam covered himself. The saints uncover themselves before Christ. Nothing remains concealed. Nothing defended. Nothing explained away. And because everything is brought into the light, everything becomes capable of healing. The heart finally stops fleeing. It remains. ⸻⸻⸻ This is perhaps the deepest work of the Jesus Prayer. Not continual repetition. Continual return. 7 Every invocation is another act of trust. Another refusal to hide. Another opening of the heart. The prayer slowly becomes the place where Christ and the soul meet. No visions are required. No extraordinary experiences. Only faithfulness. Day after day. Year after year. Until standing before Christ becomes more natural than standing before ourselves. ⸻⸻⸻ There comes a point when prayer grows wonderfully simple. The words become fewer. The heart quieter. Silence itself begins to speak. This is not emptiness. It is fullness. The Presence for which words were preparing us has quietly arrived. The Fathers never encourage us to seek such moments. They teach us simply to remain faithful. Grace knows its own time. The flower does not open because we command it. 8 It opens because spring has come. So too the heart. ⸻⸻⸻ Perhaps this is the greatest lesson Archimandrite Zacharias offers us. The Jesus Prayer is not given so that we may become experts in prayer. It is given so that we may become truthful before God. The heart that continually cries, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me,” gradually loses the need to defend itself. It no longer fears weakness. It no longer hides failure. It no longer seeks admiration. It desires only to remain before Christ. And this is already the beginning of heaven. For heaven is nothing other than the soul standing unveiled before the Face of the One who has loved it from all eternity. As we leave this conference, let us ask for only one grace. Not extraordinary prayer. Not lofty experiences. Simply the courage to remain before Christ without masks. To allow His light to reveal us. To allow His mercy to heal us. 9 To allow His love to enlarge our hearts until they become capable of bearing both our own poverty and the suffering of the whole world. For this is the hidden work of the holy Name. It leads us, not away from ourselves, but through the truth of ourselves into the inexhaustible mercy of God. 10

As I got closer to returning to Christianity, I discovered The Jesus Prayer, and began praying it. It has become a natural part of my life. In this episode I share a little of its history, what writers on prayer have said about it, and how I practice it today.As promised here is the link to the documentary on the Jesus Prayer I talked about. Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer

The Name Above Every Name Conference Two Guarding the Heart with the Name The Jesus Prayer and the Hidden Battle “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” — Proverbs 4:23 When we begin to pray the Jesus Prayer with any measure of faithfulness, we often encounter something unexpected. Rather than becoming peaceful, we become distracted. Rather than discovering silence, we discover noise. Rather than finding purity, we become painfully aware of the confusion within us. Many become discouraged at this point. They imagine they are failing. The Fathers tell us something very different. For the first time, we are beginning to see. The purpose of the Jesus Prayer is not merely to console us. It is to bring us into the light of Christ. And whenever light enters a darkened room, it reveals what has long been hidden. The heart is no different. The Jesus Prayer does not create our distractions. It uncovers them. It does not produce our passions. It reveals how deeply they have already taken root. This is why the beginning of prayer can feel more difficult than life before prayer. Grace has begun its work. ⸻⸻⸻ Archimandrite Zacharias often reminds us that God grants us His light gradually because He knows our weakness. If He were to reveal our heart all at once, we could not bear the sight. Instead, He teaches us gently. He uncovers one attachment. Then another. He exposes one fear. Then another. He reveals one hidden wound. Then another. Not to condemn us. But to heal us. This is the great difference between the accusation of the enemy and the illumination of the Holy Spirit. The enemy exposes in order to produce despair. Christ reveals in order to restore communion. The one drives us inward. The other draws us toward repentance. This distinction must never be forgotten. 2 ⸻⸻⸻ The Fathers speak constantly of watchfulness. This is not suspicion. It is not anxiety. It is not becoming preoccupied with ourselves. Watchfulness is simply the refusal to live asleep. Most of us spend our lives reacting. A word is spoken. A memory arises. An anxiety appears. A desire awakens. Without reflection we follow it. The Fathers ask us to pause. Not to analyze. Not to condemn. But to stand before Christ. The Jesus Prayer gradually creates this holy pause. Instead of immediately following every thought, we return to the Name. Again and again. Not violently. Not anxiously. Simply and quietly. 3 Like a child returning home. The Name becomes the place where the heart learns to remain. ⸻⸻⸻ One of the greatest misunderstandings of the Philokalia is the belief that thoughts themselves are the enemy. The Fathers never teach this. Thoughts come and go. Many arise without our consent. Temptation is not sin. Memories are not sin. Emotions are not sin. Even powerful images may arise without our choosing them. The hidden battle begins only when the heart gives consent. This is why the Fathers devote so much attention to freedom. Between the arising of a thought and our agreement with it there exists a sacred space. The Jesus Prayer enlarges that space. It restores our freedom. We are no longer carried wherever every thought wishes to lead us. We become capable of remaining with Christ. This is one of the greatest miracles of grace. ⸻⸻⸻ The enemy has always sought to scatter the human heart. 4 Our age makes this easier than ever. Never before have so many voices demanded our attention. Never before have we carried so much noise in our pockets. Never before have we been so easily distracted from the one thing necessary. The tragedy is not merely that we become distracted. It is that we gradually lose the capacity for recollection. We become strangers to our own hearts. The Jesus Prayer quietly gathers what has been scattered. Like a shepherd calling sheep from every hillside, the Name summons the fragments of our life back into unity. Thought by thought. Breath by breath. Day by day. The heart slowly becomes one. ⸻⸻⸻ This battle cannot be won by force. Many begin the spiritual life with enormous determination. They resolve to conquer every passion. To eliminate every distraction. To achieve uninterrupted prayer. Such zeal often ends in exhaustion. The Fathers counsel another way. 5 Humility. When distractions arise, we do not become angry. When thoughts return a hundred times, we return to Christ a hundred and one times. The victory lies less in never wandering than in always returning. The prayer itself teaches us this rhythm. Return. Remain. Return again. Eventually we discover that perseverance is stronger than intensity. ⸻⸻⸻ Archimandrite Zacharias repeatedly insists that humility attracts grace. This is why every sincere invocation of the Name weakens the dominion of pride. “Have mercy on me.” These words leave little room for self-sufficiency. They are the language of one who knows he cannot save himself. Strangely, this becomes the beginning of true freedom. Only the humble can receive help. Only the poor can receive riches. Only the empty can be filled. The Jesus Prayer continually places us in this blessed poverty. ⸻⸻⸻ 6 The hidden battle is therefore not primarily against demons. Nor is it first against thoughts. It is against forgetfulness. Adam forgot God. Israel forgot God. We forget God. Everything else follows from this forgetting. The Jesus Prayer becomes an act of remembrance. Not merely remembering a doctrine. But remembering a Person. The heart learns to live in His presence. As remembrance deepens, many passions lose their strength. Not because we have crushed them. But because Christ has become more beautiful than the things that once captivated us. Love quietly accomplishes what fear never could. ⸻⸻⸻ The Fathers speak of purity of heart. Our world often misunderstands this expression. Purity is not emotional perfection. Nor is it psychological simplicity. It is singleness. One heart. 7 One desire. One Lord. This is why Christ says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Only a unified heart can truly behold Him. The Jesus Prayer slowly gathers every divided affection into this one desire. Christ Himself becomes the center around which every thought, memory, sorrow, and joy begins to find its proper place. ⸻⸻⸻ Perhaps the greatest surprise of the spiritual life is that victory often feels like weakness. The proud imagine victory as mastery. The saints experience it as dependence. They become less confident in themselves. More confident in Christ. Less interested in their own progress. More attentive to His mercy. The Name accomplishes this quietly over many years. Not dramatically. Almost imperceptibly. Until one day we discover that we no longer rely upon our own strength. We instinctively turn toward Christ in every circumstance. The prayer has become the movement of the heart. 8 ⸻⸻⸻ As we continue this retreat, let us not become discouraged by the hidden battle. The very struggle is already a sign that grace is at work. If we now see distractions that once escaped our notice, give thanks. If we recognize passions that once ruled us unnoticed, give thanks. If we discover our weakness, give thanks. For Christ has not come to condemn what He reveals. He has come to heal it. Let us therefore guard the heart—not with fear, but with hope. Let us return again and again to the holy Name. For every sincere return, however small, is already a victory of grace. And slowly, often without our noticing, the heart that was once scattered among a thousand desires begins to rest in the One whose Name is above every name. 9

What is the Jesus Prayer? Should Christians pray the Jesus Prayer? What is the content of the Jesus Prayer?

The Name Above Every Name Conference One Receiving the Name The Gift Before the Method “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth.” — Philippians 2:10 There is perhaps no prayer more beloved in the Christian East than the Jesus Prayer. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.” It is spoken by monks in their cells, by hermits in the desert, by laborers at their work, by the elderly in nursing homes, by the sick in their hospital beds, and by countless hidden souls who have learned to carry the Name of Christ as their constant companion. Yet before we speak of the prayer itself, we must ask a more fundamental question. Why this Name? Not simply why this prayer, but why this Name? Our age has become fascinated with methods. We search for techniques that promise peace, concentration, or spiritual experience. We want to know how many repetitions to make, how to regulate our breathing, how to quiet the mind, how to pray without distraction. These questions are not unimportant. The Fathers address them with great sobriety. But they are never their starting point. The Christian life does not begin with a method. It begins with a Person. The Apostles did not first receive a prayer rule. They encountered Christ. Everything else followed from that encounter. This is the first lesson that Archimandrite Zacharias never tires of repeating. The Name of Jesus is not a sacred formula. It is not a mantra. It possesses no power apart from the living Person whom it reveals. When we invoke the Name, we are not repeating syllables. We are standing before the living God who has become man for our salvation. This changes everything. Prayer is no longer something we accomplish. It becomes Someone whom we meet. The whole mystery of Christianity is contained within this movement. We do not ascend toward God through our own efforts. God has descended to us. The eternal Word has taken flesh. The invisible God has received a human face. The unknowable One has given us His Name. The Name is therefore a gift before it is a practice. Christ Himself places it upon our lips. He gives us His own Name because He desires communion with us. The initiative always belongs to Him. This is why every genuine spiritual life begins with gratitude rather than achievement. We do not earn the Name. We receive it. ⸻⸻⸻ The Scriptures reveal something astonishing about the Name of God. 2 Throughout the Old Testament the divine Name remains veiled in mystery. Moses encounters the burning bush and asks, “What is your Name?” The answer is both revelation and concealment. “I AM WHO I AM.” God makes Himself known while remaining infinitely beyond comprehension. Then, in the fullness of time, something utterly new occurs. The Angel commands Joseph: “You shall call His Name Jesus.” The infinite God now bears a human Name. The One whom no man could behold enters history as an infant carried in His mother's arms. The Name Jesus is not merely a title. It is the revelation of the humility of God. The Almighty has made Himself accessible. He has entered our weakness. He has become One whom we may call upon in every circumstance of life. The Name itself proclaims the Gospel. Every time we whisper it, we confess that God has come near. ⸻⸻⸻ The Fathers teach us that there is an inseparable bond between the Name and the Person. To invoke the Name with faith is already to stand before Christ. This is why the Church surrounds His Name with such reverence. 3 The Apostle tells us that God has bestowed upon Christ “the Name which is above every name.” Not because the sound of the word possesses magical power, but because the Person who bears that Name is the eternal Son of God. When we pray, “Lord Jesus Christ...” we are already making a confession of faith. “Lord.” He is God. “Jesus.” He is the Savior who entered history. “Christ.” He is the Anointed One promised by the prophets. “Son of God.” He shares eternally in the Father's divine life. Everything is already contained within these few words. The prayer is theology condensed into love. ⸻⸻⸻ Archimandrite Zacharias repeatedly reminds us that the Jesus Prayer is fundamentally relational. This may sound obvious, but it is easily forgotten. We often reduce prayer to something we do. The Fathers speak instead of Someone before whom we stand. 4 The heart of prayer is presence. Not first our awareness of God. But God's faithful presence before us. Long before we began seeking Him, He sought us. Long before we learned His Name, He knew ours. Long before we loved Him, He loved us. Prayer is our answer to a love that has already preceded us. This protects us from one of the greatest temptations in the spiritual life. We begin to measure prayer by our experience. Was it peaceful? Was it distracted? Did I feel anything? Did grace seem close? The Fathers ask another question. Did you remain before Christ? If so, then prayer has already begun. Faithfulness is greater than consolation. Love is greater than feelings. Presence is greater than success. ⸻⸻⸻ This understanding also transforms repentance. Many people imagine repentance as a movement away from themselves toward God. 5 The Gospel reveals the opposite. Repentance is the discovery that Christ has already come searching for us. Adam hid. God sought him. The prodigal wandered. The Father watched the road. Peter denied Christ. Christ looked upon Peter. Everything begins with God's movement toward us. When we whisper, “Have mercy on me,” we are not persuading Christ to become merciful. We are awakening to the mercy that has already embraced us. The prayer does not change God's heart. It gradually changes ours. ⸻⸻⸻ Because the Name is a gift, it must be received with reverence. The Fathers never speak of the Jesus Prayer casually. It is entrusted to the humble. Not because God withholds Himself from others, but because pride cannot receive what humility gladly welcomes. A proud heart uses prayer. 6 A humble heart receives it. There is all the difference in the world. Perhaps this is why the prayer becomes simpler as one matures. At first we seek to master it. Later we discover that it is slowly mastering us. At first we imagine we are carrying the Name. Eventually we discover that the Name has been carrying us all along. ⸻⸻⸻ As we begin this retreat, let us lay aside every desire for extraordinary experiences. Let us not seek methods before seeking Christ. Let us not become preoccupied with progress. The greatest grace would simply be this: To receive the Name once again as though hearing it for the first time. To whisper it with reverence. To hold it gently within the heart. To allow it to accompany every joy and every sorrow. To believe that every sincere invocation of the Name is already an encounter with the living Christ. The whole Christian life begins here. Not with our search for God. But with God's immeasurable gift of Himself. And because He has given us His Name, we need never fear that He is far away. 7 The Name upon our lips is already the sign that Christ stands at the door of the heart and knocks. May we open to Him with humility, faith, and love. 8

Pastor pyle 07.12.26 AM

One of the most striking characteristics of St. Isaac's writings is that he never asks us to renounce the world because the world is evil. Rather, he continually places before us something infinitely more beautiful. He speaks so often of the sweetness of communion with God, the boldness of prayer, the radiance of divine light, and the immeasurable mercy of Christ that worldly pleasures gradually lose their attraction by comparison. For Isaac, the spiritual life is not sustained by fear but by love. Yet because he knows the human heart so well, he also warns us with remarkable honesty. The heart is changeable. We imagine ourselves steadfast, yet we are easily drawn away. A single hour of distraction can cool the warmth of prayer. Idle conversation, endless amusement, frivolity, curiosity, and the restless pursuit of novelty slowly scatter the attention that had been gathered before God. This is why the anonymous elder can say that when he lives in stillness, his hunger diminishes, his prayer becomes bold, and his soul delights in the divine light. But after only a brief conversation, he immediately notices the change. His appetite increases, his rule weakens, and the clarity of prayer fades. Isaac is not describing a rule. He is describing a law of the heart. Whatever fills the mind eventually governs the heart. Our own age makes his words even more urgent. We no longer need companions to distract us. We carry distraction in our pockets. We wake to it and fall asleep with it. News, entertainment, endless commentary, social media, notifications, and perpetual noise have become so ordinary that many no longer recognize how profoundly they shape the soul. We often wonder why prayer feels difficult while rarely questioning the thousands of impressions that fill our imagination throughout the day. The demons need not persuade us to abandon Christ outright. They need only keep us endlessly occupied. This is why Isaac joins stillness to humility. The deepest obstacle to prayer is not simply noise but pride. Pride always seeks stimulation because it continually seeks itself. Humility, however, is content to disappear. It has no need to be seen, entertained, admired, or constantly occupied. The humble heart finds its rest in God alone. For this reason Isaac's final exhortation is so beautiful. He does not tell us merely to become more disciplined. He tells us to imitate the humility of Christ. Christ Himself entered silence, accepted obscurity, embraced poverty, endured misunderstanding, and descended into the deepest humiliation out of love for the Father and for us. Only that same humility can preserve the fire of divine love within us.   The Christian life is therefore not primarily about giving things up. It is about guarding a flame. Every choice either shelters that flame or exposes it to the winds of distraction. Every act of recollection gathers the heart toward God; every needless dissipation scatters it again.   Isaac continually returns us to this single question: What helps the heart remain before God?   Everything that deepens humility, stillness, repentance, and love should be embraced. Everything that leaves the heart agitated, distracted, self-absorbed, or spiritually numb should be gently but resolutely laid aside.   In the end, the goal is wonderfully simple. To become so captivated by the beauty of Christ that nothing in this passing world seems worth exchanging for His presence.   The one thing necessary is not found by striving after extraordinary experiences, but by quietly protecting the heart in which Christ has chosen to dwell.   ---   Text of chat during the group:    00:01:35 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 208 paragraph 18 00:56:00 Aaron: To be honest, this seems difficult for me to grasp, given how easily a person like myself may be carried away by the concerns and distractions of the world. When God is remembered, things appear clearer; when that remembrance fades, even passing matters can begin to seem important, and the  One Thing necessary is easily forgotten. How might this be lived out by those in the laity while fulfilling their responsibilities in the world? 00:56:30 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "To be honest, this s..." with

In this special mailbag edition of Orthodoxy Live, Fr. Evan is joined by show producer Simon Nelson to answer you questions on how to pray as a non-believer, why Jesus groaned and later wept in John 11:33, finding balance in one's struggle against sin, how to safely participate in the Eucharist with a severe gluten intolerance, and appropriate ways to pray the Jesus Prayer.

It's Last Call! Mother Natalia is back to teach us a realistic way to pray without ceasing.  Pints: Last Call Ep. 19 - - -

Just thinking again about authority and such but need some adoration or maybe Jesus Prayer would be the equivalent. I wonder what Kolistos Ware would think?

In this gathering, Doug Scott offers a model he uses in the counseling room and traces it back to its roots in the Law of One. The starting point is a term Ra uses only twice — the significant self — which Doug reads as something close to the soul: the self that carries the harvest of all our past lives forward and meets each new incarnation already biased by who we have been. From there the conversation moves into a working picture of the inner life. Imagine the ocean: at the still, hidden floor lies the anchored self — our true self, grafted into the ground of being. On the surface bobs the floating self — the ego, the buoy tossed by the weather of the day, running on the pursuit of power, prestige, and possessions. A Holy Tether joins the two and can never be cut. And in between travels the significant self, the meaning-maker with agency, the one who chooses whether to live from the anchor or the buoy. Doug names the two doorways that wake that chooser: great love and great suffering — two faces of one coin called vulnerability. The episode closes with the community thinking out loud together about the Jesus Prayer as a way of "dropping down and in," the ego reframed as a tool rather than an enemy, and the daily practice of letting a reaction rise into the heart before choosing a response for the good of all. A contemplative hour on agency, the soul, and the self that learns to respond instead of react. Key References: Ra (Law of One): the infant and "the harvest of biases of all previous incarnational experiences" (92.18); the Great Way and the significator (103.11); higher self vs. oversoul (36.4); incarnation as "a course in the Creator knowing Itself" and the between-life review (82.25); the form-maker body after death (47.11); the significator as the fifth archetype of the mind Richard Rohr — true self and false self; great love and great suffering as the two transformative paths Thomas Keating — power, prestige, and possessions as the engine of the false self The Jesus Prayer / prayer of the heart in the contemplative Christian tradition

Listen today as Pastor Tyler unpacks the kind of prayer that actually changes things—not “drive-by” prayers, but bold, persistent faith that asks, seeks, and knocks.

Is Eastern Orthodoxy more mystical than Roman Catholicism? Or have Catholics simply forgotten the mystical heart of their own tradition?In this episode, we explore Eastern Orthodox vs. Roman Catholic mysticism without turning it into a competition. Both East and West seek union with God. Both have deep theology, contemplative prayer, asceticism, sacramental life, and saints who burned with divine love.But they often speak with different mystical accents.Eastern Orthodoxy often foregrounds theosis, watchfulness, hesychasm, the Jesus Prayer, icons, Tabor, and the healing of the eye of the heart to behold divine light. Roman Catholic mysticism often foregrounds Eucharistic union, bridal mysticism, the Sacred Heart, the wounds of Christ, the dark night, contemplation, and the heart being wounded open by love.This is not about choosing East or West. It is about recovering the mystical depth already present in the Catholic tradition.Catholic mysticism is not missing.It is Eucharistic.It is bridal.It is wounded.It is contemplative.It is incarnational.And it is still burning.

If you enjoy this episode, we're sure you will enjoy more content like this on The Occult Rejects.  In fact, we have curated playlists on occult topics like grimoires, esoteric concepts and phenomena, occult history, analyzing true crime and cults with an occult lens, Para politics, and occultism in music. Whether you enjoy consuming your content visually or via audio, we've got you covered - and it will always be provided free of charge.  So, if you enjoy what we do and want to support our work of providing accessible, free content on various platforms, please consider making a donation to the links provided below.  Thank you and enjoy the episode!Links For The Occult Rejectshttps://linktr.ee/theoccultrejectsOccult Research Institutehttps://www.occultresearchinstitute.org/Cash Apphttps://cash.app/$theoccultrejectsVenmo@TheOccultRejectsBuy Me A Coffeebuymeacoffee.com/TheOccultRejectsPatreonhttps://www.patreon.com/TheOccultRejectsPrimary / traditional texts and core religious sourcesĀnāpānasati Sutta (MN 118), translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu, Access to Insight. Best primary source for Buddhist mindfulness of breathing.“Ḏekr / Dhikr,” Encyclopaedia Iranica. Strong source for Sufi remembrance, rhythmic repetition, posture, and breathing-linked practice.“Hesychasm,” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Good general source for the Christian contemplative tradition of stillness, uninterrupted prayer, and the Jesus Prayer.“Saint Gregory Palamas,” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Useful for the role of bodily posture and controlled breathing in Hesychast prayer.Crowley, Aleister. Liber E vel Exercitiorum. Primary text for Crowley's explicit inclusion of “Pranayama – Regularisation of the Breathing” in occult training.Crowley, Aleister. Book Four, Part 1. Useful for Crowley's statement that pranayama is useful in “quieting the emotions and appetites.”Historical / religious context“Prana,” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Best short source for the deep Indian background: prāṇa, the five prāṇas, and breath as vital force.“Pranayama,” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Best short source for classical Yoga: pranayama as the fourth limb aimed toward samādhi.“Hatha Yoga,” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Useful for the force-oriented turn: bodily mastery, purification, and regulation of breathing.“Qi,” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Good for Daoist and Chinese background: qi as psychophysical energy and breath-linked vital force.“Qigong,” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Useful for qigong as a discipline combining movement, breathing, and mental concentration.“Are Kabbalistic Meditations all about Ecstasy?” in Hermes Explains (Cambridge). Strong academic source for Abraham Abulafia and ecstatic Kabbalah.“Classical Kabbalah, Its History and Symbolic Universe.” Useful academic source noting ecstatic Kabbalah's breathing exercises, postures, and developed techniques.Neuroscience / physiology / altered statesAshhad, Kam, Del Negro, and Feldman. “Breathing Rhythm and Pattern and Their Influence on Emotion.” Annual Review of Neuroscience (2022). One of the best overview papers for the whole episode.Yackle et al. “Breathing control center neurons that promote arousal in mice.” Science (2017). Key source for the preBötzinger complex / calm-vs-arousal section.Schottelkotte and Dutschmann. “Forebrain control of breathing: Anatomy and potential functions.” Frontiers in Neurology (2022). Best source for cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, hypothalamus, and thalamus in breathing control.Krohn et al. “The integrated brain network that controls respiration.” eLife (2023). Strong review for respiration as part of a larger integrated brain network.Heck et al. “Breathing as a fundamental rhythm of brain function.” Human MEG work on respiration-modulated brain oscillations across frequency bands and brain regions.(Note: the specific MEG paper surfaced in earlier research as the respiration-modulated oscillations study; the review sources above are the strongest anchors for that section.)Zelano et al. “Nasal Respiration Entrains Human Limbic Oscillations and Modulates Cognitive Function.” Journal of Neuroscience (2016). One of the most important human papers in the whole script.Schreiner et al. “Respiration modulates sleep oscillations and memory reactivation in humans.” Nature Communications (2023). Best source for the sleep-spindle / memory-reactivation section.Zaccaro et al. “How Breath-Control Can Change Your Life: A Systematic Review on Psychophysiological Correlates of Slow Breathing.” Frontiers in Human Neuroscience / PMC version (2018). Best broad source for slow breathing under 10 breaths per minute.Shao, Man, and Lee. “The Effect of Slow-Paced Breathing on Cardiovascular and Emotion Functions: A Meta-Analysis and Systematic Review.” Mindfulness (2024). Useful for the stabilizing-road section.Kozhevnikov et al. “Neurocognitive and Somatic Components of Temperature Increases during g-Tummo Meditation.” PLoS ONE (2013). Best source for vase breathing and inner-heat claims.Zhang et al. “Hyperventilation in neurological patients: from physiology to outcome evidence.” Useful source for hypocapnia, cerebral vasoconstriction, and reduced cerebral blood flow.Havenith et al. “Decreased CO2 saturation during circular breathwork supports emergence of altered states of consciousness.” Communications Psychology (2025). The key modern paper for circular breathwork and altered-state onset. Also want to remind people about the website, if you're into reading we have tons of information by multiple contributors, and we got t-shirts up on the site if you're interested. Fun fact, the art is all based on the eyeball. Now let me introduce the rest of the panel and guests.

Prayer is not our last resort. It's our greatest source of power. Listen now as Pastor Tyler unpacks the vital importance of living a prayer-filled life. To stay connected to what's happening at Mission Church, follow us on any of the following platforms. Instagram instagram.com/missionchurchca Podcast missionchurchca.com/watch Newsletter missionchurchca.com/updates Website missionchurchca.com

“Did Mary and Joseph doubt Jesus?” This question leads to a discussion about their understanding of His identity, especially during the incident at the temple. Other topics include the appropriateness of repeating prayers for healing, navigating faith in the context of divorce, and clarifying the status of the Ethiopian Bible. Join the Catholic Answers Live Club Newsletter Invite our apologists to speak at your parish! Visit Catholicanswersspeakers.com Questions Covered: 02:10 – Did Mary and Joseph not trust or know who Jesus was by the time they lost him at the temple? 14:15 – Is it wrong to repeat prayers? For example, to ask many times for a sick friend to be healed? 28:40 – I'm a godparent to a child in a family where the husband and wife are divorcing. 36:50 – What is the status of the Ethiopian Bible? Is it considered inspired? 44:30 – I was born and raised Catholic and am starting to get back into it. My wife was raised non-Catholic and just converted. In OCIA we got a lot of answers that contradicted Church teaching. Different people are giving different answers that contradict. How do I know what is right?

The Fire That Remains Life in the Spirit After the Collapse of the Religious Self Week II — Remaining in the Fire Without Rebuilding the Self The Spirit as the One Who Teaches Us to Endure ⸻ Opening Invocation O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of blessings and Giver of life, Come and dwell in us, Cleanse us from every impurity, And save our souls, O Good One. ⸻ I. After the Collapse — The More Dangerous Work Begins Last week we spoke of the fire. Of illumination. Of exposure. Of the collapse of the false life. But there is something more dangerous than never entering this fire. It is entering it and then leaving too soon. Because once a man has begun to see once the structures begin to loosen once the illusions begin to fall there arises an almost irresistible need: 1 To stabilize. To regain footing. To become something again. Even if that “something” is humbler. Even if it is quieter. Even if it uses the language of repentance. The self does not disappear easily. It adapts. It reforms. It survives even inside what appears to be its own death. And so the second work of the Spirit is not simply to expose. It is to keep a man in the place where exposure continues. ⸻ II. The Subtle Rebuilding of the Religious Self You will begin to notice this almost immediately. A thought arises: “I understand now.” “I see more clearly.” “I am different than I was.” And these thoughts feel true. They feel justified. They feel like the fruit of grace. 2 But hidden within them is the beginning of reconstruction. Because the ego does not need grand illusions. It can build itself out of something very small. Even the awareness of one's own brokenness. Even the language of humility. You begin to identify yourself as: The one who sees The one who has suffered The one who is being purified The one who understands the deeper life And without realizing it you have become something again. Subtler. More refined. But still centered in yourself. “Do not trust in your own righteousness.” — cf. Luke 18:9 The Pharisee was not condemned for sin. He was condemned because he became something in his own eyes. And this is the danger now. ⸻ III. The Spirit Leads Into a Place With No Ground The Spirit does something that feels unbearable. 3 He removes not only falsehood but also the ground beneath your feet. You cannot rely on what you once knew. You cannot return to previous ways of praying. You cannot even take comfort in what seems like progress. Everything becomes unstable. And this is not confusion. It is purification. Because as long as a man has ground he stands on himself. Even if that ground is spiritual. Even if it is noble. Even if it is built on real experiences. The Spirit removes this. So that a man learns something new: To stand without standing. To remain without possessing. To live without securing himself. ⸻ IV. The Poverty of Not Knowing There is a kind of darkness here. 4 Not the darkness of sin. But the darkness of not knowing. You no longer know: Where you are. What is happening. Who you are becoming. You cannot interpret your life. You cannot explain your interior state. And the mind resists this violently. Because the mind wants clarity. It wants to define. It wants to grasp. But the Spirit teaches a man to let go of knowing. “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 45/46) Not: Understand and know. Explain and know. Analyze and know. Be still. And this stillness feels like death to the mind. Because the mind loses its authority. ⸻ 5 V. The Prayer That Remains When Everything Else Falls At this stage, prayer changes. It becomes poorer. Simpler. More fragile. You may find that you cannot pray as before. Words feel empty. Thoughts feel forced. Even spiritual reading feels distant. And what remains? Often only this: A cry. Or even less than a cry. A turning. A presence. The Jesus Prayer begins to take on a different character. Not as something you do. But as something you cling to when everything else has fallen away. “Prayer is the refuge of help... a haven that rescues from the tempest.” — St. Isaac the Syrian Not a method. Not a discipline. But a lifeline. 6 And even this may feel dry. And still you remain. ⸻ VI. The Temptation to Interpret the Process One of the greatest dangers here is the need to interpret what is happening. To name it. To define it. To place it within a framework. You begin to say: “This is purification.” “This is the dark night.” “This is growth.” And while these things may not be false they become a way of regaining control. Because once something is named it is contained. And the Spirit resists this containment. He leads a man into something that cannot be mastered. Cannot be reduced. Cannot be explained. Because the goal is not understanding. It is transformation. 7 And transformation often happens in a way that the mind cannot follow. ⸻ VII. The Hidden Work of Endurance What, then, is required? Very little. And everything. Not effort in the way we understand it. But endurance. To remain in prayer even when it feels empty. To remain turned toward God even when nothing is felt. To remain in truth even when it exposes you again and again. This is not passive. It is a quiet, fierce consent. A willingness to be worked upon. A refusal to flee. “In your patience possess your souls.” (Luke 21:19) The fathers speak of this as long-suffering. But we often misunderstand this. It is not merely enduring hardship. It is enduring the work of God within us. 8 ⸻ VIII. The Fear of Losing Everything At some point, a deeper fear emerges. Not just the fear of being seen. But the fear of losing everything. Your sense of self. Your sense of direction. Even your sense of God. Because God Himself may seem hidden. Silent. Distant. And this is where many turn back. Not into sin. But into something safer. Something more defined. Something more manageable. But the Spirit leads further. Into a place where even God is not grasped. But only trusted. “Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68) Not: Lord, I understand. Lord, I feel. Lord, I possess. 9 But: To whom shall we go? There is nowhere else. So we remain. ⸻ IX. The Beginning of True Freedom And slowly, something begins to change. Not dramatically. Not in a way that can be grasped. But subtly. The need to define begins to loosen. The need to possess begins to fade. The need to be something begins to weaken. And a different kind of freedom appears. Not the freedom to act. But the freedom not to construct yourself. A quietness. A simplicity. A lightness. You begin to exist without constantly referring back to yourself. And this is the beginning of life in the Spirit. 10 Not power. Not experience. But freedom from the tyranny of self. ⸻ X. Closing Exhortation Do not flee this place. Do not rush to understand. Do not rebuild what is being taken from you. Remain. Even when you do not know how to remain. Even when prayer feels empty. Even when God feels distant. Remain. Because the Spirit is not absent. He is working more deeply than you can perceive. And what He is forming in you cannot be formed in any other way. ⸻ 11 Closing Prayer Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Thou who didst endure the silence of the Cross, grant us the grace to endure the silence within our own hearts. Teach us to remain when all else falls away. Deliver us from the need to grasp, to define, to become something. And grant that, in losing ourselves, we may find our life hidden in Thee. Amen. 12

Send us Fan MailYour day is moving fast, your mind is crowded, and peace can feel like a luxury you cannot reach. We slow everything down with one of the Church's simplest treasures: the Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” As we pray it and unpack it, we discover why this short line has carried monks, saints, parents, and parish workers through anxiety, distraction, and spiritual dryness, turning ordinary moments into a steady return to God.We walk through the biblical roots in Luke 18, where mercy is the bold cry of the blind man and the humble confession of the tax collector, and we connect it to Saint Paul's call to “pray without ceasing.” We also trace the prayer through the early Church and the Desert Fathers and Mothers, who learned that short, repeated prayer can steady the heart when thoughts wander. Along the way, we reflect on the Holy Name of Jesus as a refuge and a source of spiritual peace, especially when life feels noisy or uncertain.Then we get practical: how to pray the Jesus Prayer throughout the day at work, in traffic, while doing chores, or before the tabernacle in Eucharistic adoration, and how breathing with the words or using beads can help. We also talk about humility as the engine of real contemplative prayer and why the goal is prayer of the heart, not perfect performance. If you want more support for your Catholic devotional life, check the link in the description for the rest of the article, a special news item, and a special offer at JourneysOfFaith.com. Subscribe, share this with a friend who needs calm, and leave a review with the moment you plan to start praying it.Open by Steve Bailey Support the showChat with US 24/7 Ask us anything https://chatting.page/mjxs9aerrtgm3lmpndlcepmbyosntrjnView all of our blog posts here https://journeysoffaith.com/blogs/eucharist-mary-saintsDownload Journeys of Faith App for Iphone or Android FREE https://journeysoffaith.com/pages/download-our-appJourneys of Faith brings your Super Saints PodcastsPlease consider subscribing to this podcast or making a donation to Journeys of Faith we are actively increasing our reach and we are seeing good results for visitors under 40! Help us Grow!***Our Core Beliefs***The Eucharist is the Source and Summit of our Faith."  Catechism 132 Click Here“This is the will of God, your sanctification.”   1Thessalonians 4“ ...

In this episode I am once again joined by Rebekah Sturgill, mother, school teacher, and convert to Orthodox Christianity. Rebekah discusses the contemplative methods of Orthodox Christianity; shares one of the tradition's core practices, the Jesus Prayer; and discusses the importance of the liturgical year. Rebekah explorex the phenomenology of a felt sense of Christ, explains the ideal of theosis, and reveals why the imagination is discouraged in Orthodox practice. Rebekah also details the Orthodox view on demons, compares it to popular depictions in books and films, and offers her own experience of the supernatural dimensions of the spiritual war for the human will. … Video version: www.guruviking.com Also available on Youtube, iTunes, & Spotify – search ‘Guru Viking Podcast'. … Topics include: 00:00 - Intro 00:48 - Practice of Orthodox Christianity 03:37 - Time, community, and individual practice 10:51 - Learning how to be an Orthodox Christian 13:50 - The Jesus Prayer 16:11 - Against the imaginal 17:11 - Breathing practice in the Jesus Prayer 18:51 - Focusing on Christ 22:17 - A felt sense of Christ 24:38 - Phenomenology of meditation 26:49 - False vision and dangers of the imagination 29:50 - Warnings and special experiences 32:29 - Community as a check on spiritual pride 33:52 - Theosis and the goal of Orthodox Christian practice 38:36 - The heat of God 40:42 - Ethics and positive behavioural change 44:57 - The ethical ideal of Christ 47:18 - Angels, demons, and supernatural entities 51:08 - Screwtape Letters and the ontology of demons 53:59 - Theories of demonology 55:35 - War for the human will 58:56 - Levels of understanding 01:01:41 - How much should catechumens be taught about demons? 01:06:00 - Orthodoxy is in vogue 
… Previous episode with Rebekah Sturgill: - https://www.guruviking.com/search?q=sturgill For more interviews, videos, and more visit: - https://www.guruviking.com Music ‘Deva Dasi' by Steve James

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​​1. TO SUPPORT this Orthodox Christian ministry and the digitisation of our many cassette-tapes for new podcasts, please visit us at the BUY ME A COFFEE support platform:​​http://buymeacoffee.com/octeaching​2. TO FIND THE TITLES AND LINKS for all our podcasts, please visit our podcast directory. Just search for ‘Orthodox Christian Teaching Podcast Directory' in the Apple Podcasts app or in the podcasts section of the Spotify app OR search for ‘Orthodox Christian Teaching' in the Apple Podcasts app or the Spotify app,​3. DIRECT LINKS to the ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN TEACHING PODCAST DIRECTORY:​On the APPLE PODCASTS app:​https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/orthodox-christian-teaching-podcast-directory/id1680765527​On the SPOTIFY app:​https://open.spotify.com/show/1ALQ9YkJ0hhZ20GGZv7MH9?si=hVv_aqKtSrypyTLr1YZQIQ​​​

What happens when pressure hits your life?Do you panic, plan, or pray?In this powerful message from our Ready or Not: Preparing for What God Is About to Do series, Prophetess Tai McNeely calls the church back to one of the most overlooked disciplines in the life of a believer: prayer. Drawing from Jesus' moment in the Garden of Gethsemane, she shows that prayer is not a last resort when life falls apart. It is the preparation that equips us for what God is asking us to carry.Many people treat prayer like a transaction. We go to God when we need something and disappear when life feels manageable. But Scripture shows a different pattern. Prayer is the place where strength is formed, courage is developed, and obedience is sustained when the weight of calling becomes heavy.In this message you will discover why prayer must become a lifestyle and not just a religious routine.Prophetess Tai walks through three powerful truths from the life of Jesus:• Prayer precedes power • Prayer equips you with power • Prayer exhibits powerBefore Jesus faced the cross, He faced the Father in prayer. And that same pattern still applies today. If God is preparing you for more influence, greater responsibility, or deeper impact, prayer is the place where that preparation begins.This message will challenge you to examine your prayer life, move beyond performative religion, and develop a deeper relationship with God built on consistent communication and trust.If you sense God calling you into a deeper walk with Him, this message will both confront and encourage you.Listen now and be reminded that the life God is preparing you for must be built on prayer.—Series: Ready or Not — Preparing for What God Is About to DoSpeaker: Prophetess Tai McNeelyChurch: Purpose City Church (Aurora, Illinois)For more messages, resources, and information about Purpose City Church, visit:www.purposecitychurch.com

https://www.madisonchristian.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/Always-Only-Jesus.png Always, Only, Jesus: Prayer-Driven Ministry false no 1:04:08

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​​1. TO SUPPORT this Orthodox Christian ministry and the digitisation of our many cassette-tapes for new podcasts, please visit us at the BUY ME A COFFEE support platform:​​http://buymeacoffee.com/octeaching​2. TO FIND THE TITLES AND LINKS for all our podcasts, please visit our podcast directory. Just search for ‘Orthodox Christian Teaching Podcast Directory' in the Apple Podcasts app or in the podcasts section of the Spotify app OR search for ‘Orthodox Christian Teaching' in the Apple Podcasts app or the Spotify app,​3. DIRECT LINKS to the ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN TEACHING PODCAST DIRECTORY:​On the APPLE PODCASTS app:​https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/orthodox-christian-teaching-podcast-directory/id1680765527​On the SPOTIFY app:​https://open.spotify.com/show/1ALQ9YkJ0hhZ20GGZv7MH9?si=hVv_aqKtSrypyTLr1YZQIQ​​​

Third Reflection Lenten Retreat 2026 When God Begins to Take Everything On the Delusion of Belonging to God While Still Belonging to Oneself “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” Matthew 27:46 There comes a point in the spiritual life when the man can no longer recognize himself. Until this point, he has struggled with visible things. With sins. With distractions. With passions that moved through his body and mind. He struggled to restrain them. He struggled to purify himself. He struggled to become faithful. This struggle had structure. It had direction. It had meaning. He could see what he was fighting. He could measure progress. He could recognize failure and repentance. He lived with the sense that he was moving toward God. Even when he failed, he knew where he stood. Even when he fell, he knew he could rise. His existence had continuity. His identity had stability. He was a man seeking God. He knew himself as such. Then something begins to happen that he cannot understand. God removes not sin, but support. Not temptation, but stability. Not rebellion, but ground. 1 Prayer continues, but something within it has disappeared. The words remain. The effort remains. The intention remains. But life has receded. He speaks to God, but he does not experience being heard. He calls, but nothing answers. He remembers when prayer gave him warmth, when the name of Christ carried sweetness, when he felt himself held in a presence greater than himself. Now that presence cannot be found. He does not know whether it has left or whether he has. St. Isaac the Syrian writes that there is a stage in which God withdraws the perceptible operation of grace so that the soul may be taught that it does not possess Him. This withdrawal is not punishment. It is revelation. Until this point, the man believed he depended on God. Now he sees that he depended on his experience of God. He depended on the stability that experience gave him. He depended on the sense that he knew where he stood. This sense has now been taken. He no longer knows where he stands. He no longer knows what he is. He no longer knows how to locate himself before God. Evagrios says that when grace withdraws, the soul is handed over to knowledge of its own powerlessness. 2 Not intellectual knowledge. Existential knowledge. The man discovers that he cannot produce even the smallest movement toward God by his own strength. He cannot restore what has been taken. He cannot recover the life he once knew. He cannot make himself alive again. This knowledge terrifies him. Because until now, he has lived with the assumption that he existed. That he endured. That he remained himself across time. That his relationship with God was something he inhabited. Now even this has dissolved. He experiences groundlessness. Not emotional instability. Ontological groundlessness. He cannot find the place within himself from which he once lived. St. Macarius the Great says that until the soul passes through abandonment, it cannot be freed from the illusion that it possesses life. This illusion is so subtle that even humility cannot destroy it. The man may believe he is nothing. He may confess his weakness. He may acknowledge his dependence. And still exist as the center of his own life. 3 God removes this center. Not suddenly. But completely. The man cannot stop this process. He cannot preserve himself. He cannot secure himself. Everything he relied on to know himself has been taken. This produces the deepest temptation. Not the temptation to sin. The temptation to restore himself. To rebuild identity. To recover stability. To become again the one he was. Many do this unconsciously. They reconstruct their religious self. They recover certainty. They regain structure. They resume existing as before. And they lose something they do not understand. They lose the possibility of union. Because union requires the disappearance of the one who lives apart from God. St. Paul writes with terrifying clarity, “For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” Colossians 3:3 4 Hidden. Not strengthened. Not improved. Hidden. The man can no longer find himself. Because he no longer exists where he once lived. Christ entered this darkness fully. “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” He entered the experience of abandonment. Not because He had lost the Father. But because He had surrendered every human ground. He stood where man stands when nothing remains. So that man could stand there and live. St. Silouan says, “Keep thy mind in hell and despair not.” Hell is the place where every support has been removed. Where the self cannot preserve itself. Where existence depends entirely on God. The ego cannot survive here. This is its death. The man who remains here without turning back passes beyond himself. But he does not yet know this. He knows only loss. 5 Only absence. Only the disappearance of the one he believed himself to be. This is the threshold of resurrection. But resurrection cannot yet be seen. Only death can be seen. And the man must remain. ⸻ This is the most terrible mercy God gives to those He draws near. Because as long as the man can still find himself, he still lives from himself. As long as he can still locate stability within his own experience, he has not yet been born of God. Christ said, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” John 12:24 Remains alone. Even if it is righteous. Even if it is faithful. Even if it believes itself to belong to God. As long as it remains intact, it remains alone. St. Sophrony writes that God allows the soul to descend into this darkness so that it may learn to exist from Him alone and not from any created support, including its own experience of grace. This descent feels like death because it is death. The death of psychological continuity. The death of spiritual self recognition. The death of the one who could say, I am the one who prays. 6 Now prayer continues. But the one who prayed cannot be found. The Jesus Prayer may still be spoken. The lips may still move. The mind may still form the words. But the center from which it once came has been shattered. The man stands before God without himself. This is why the psalmist cries, “I am forgotten like one dead, out of mind; I am like a broken vessel.” Psalm 30:12 LXX Forgotten. Broken. Without place. Without continuity. Without self possession. St. Isaac says that when the soul enters this stage, it feels itself suspended between existence and non existence. It cannot return to what it was. It cannot yet see what it will become. It cannot move forward. It cannot move back. It can only remain. This remaining is crucifixion. Christ did not descend from the Cross. 7 He remained. He did not preserve Himself. He entrusted Himself. “Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit.” Luke 23:46 This is the final act of abandonment. Not abandonment by God. Abandonment of oneself into God. Archimandrite Zacharias writes that at this stage, man learns true obedience. Not obedience of action, but obedience of being. He no longer acts from himself. He no longer preserves himself. He exists in radical dependence. This dependence feels like non existence. Because the ego cannot live this way. The ego requires ground. Continuity. Self possession. Identity. God removes all of it. Not to destroy the person. But to reveal the person. Because the person does not exist in himself. The person exists in God. St. Paul writes, “For in Him we live and move and have our being.” Acts 17:28 Not alongside Him. Not with assistance from Him. 8 In Him. When this is seen, the man understands that his previous life, even his spiritual life, was sustained by illusion. He believed he lived. He believed he endured. He believed he remained. Now he sees that he does not possess existence. Existence is given. Moment by moment. Breath by breath. “God withdraws His breath, and they perish and return to their dust.” Psalm 103:29 LXX The man feels this. Not as theology. As reality. He feels that if God does not sustain him, he will cease. Not morally. Ontologically. This is why fear arises. Not fear of punishment. Fear of non being. But if the man remains, something begins to happen that he cannot yet perceive. A new center begins to emerge. 9 Not located within himself. Located in God. Christ begins to live where the ego once lived. This is why St. Paul says, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” Galatians 2:20 Not metaphor. Ontological fact. The old center has died. A new center has been given. St. Silouan writes that when man descends into this hell and remains with faith, the Lord Himself becomes his life. Not as comfort. As existence. The man no longer lives toward God. He lives from God. But before this becomes clear, there is only darkness. Only abandonment. Only the terrible silence of God. St. Sophrony says that this silence is not absence, but the deepest form of presence. God is acting beyond perception, dismantling the final illusion that man possesses himself. The man feels forsaken. But he is being carried. He feels abandoned. 10 But he is being born. This is the third dismantling. Not the destruction of sin. Not the destruction of righteousness. The destruction of the illusion that one belongs to God while still belonging to oneself. God takes everything. Even the man's experience of belonging to Him. So that the man may finally belong to Him completely. And the man must remain. Without returning. Without rebuilding. Without preserving anything. He must remain in the darkness where Christ Himself stood. “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” And wait for the life that only God can give. 11

In this episode, community member Troy Caldwell — a retired psychiatrist with decades of training in spiritual direction — presents on the Jesus Prayer as a practice of contemplative recollection. Originally prepared for a spiritual formation class at his church, this teaching invites us into one of the oldest and most widely practiced forms of Christian meditation. Troy begins by distinguishing petition from contemplation: where petition asks God for things, contemplative prayer is simply about being with God — and allowing that proximity to transform us. The still point, drawn from T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets, is the inner axis of the soul: the place where the ego's striving falls quiet and the living water of God's presence can be found. The Jesus Prayer — Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner — has been used continuously for over 1,500 years in Eastern Christian traditions. Troy walks us through its technique (breath-synchronized repetition, gentle return from distraction), its biblical roots (the blind beggar Bartimaeus, the parable of the tax collector), and a careful unpacking of its words. Sinner means one who has missed the mark — a person in need, not a condemned person. Mercy translates from the Hebrew chesed — steadfast love, covenant faithfulness, enduring kindness. The group practices three minutes of the Jesus Prayer together, then opens into shared reflection. Members describe varied relationships to the prayer's language, adaptations that have made it their own, and the consistent experience of being carried to stillness — a drop from head to heart where something larger than the self moves through. The Law of One is woven in: Yehoshua carries the meaning "the Whole incarnates as a particular," and Ra's teaching in Session 10.14 provides the metaphysical complement — "The moment contains love. That is the lesson/goal of this illusion. The exercise is to consciously seek that love in awareness." The mercy asked for in the Jesus Prayer is precisely this: eyes opened to the wholeness already present. The episode closes with a discussion of sin, separation, and paradox. If sin is the active reinforcement of the illusion of separation — and if separation itself is the necessary condition for the experience of return — then both the fall and the recovery, as Julian of Norwich saw, are expressions of divine mercy. The opportunity for wholeness is always available. Every catalyst is an invitation to choose it. "The moment contains love." — Ra, 10.14

“Death in battle for God's sake is better than a shameful and sluggish life.” There is always a lion for the man who does not want to begin. Always a reason. Always a danger. Always a wiser moment to wait for. And so he remains on the road his entire life. Careful. Thoughtful. Unbloodied. Unchanged. St. Isaac is merciless here. Much wisdom can damn a soul. Not the wisdom that fears God, but the kind that calculates and delays obedience. The man who watches the winds never sows. The man who weighs every risk never enters the fight. The simple man jumps into the water. He does not negotiate with fear. He does not preserve his body. He burns with first ardor and moves. This is what we lack. Not knowledge. Fire. The way is filled with blood. Blood means loss. Blood means humiliation. Blood means the death of the life you hoped to keep. If you wish to begin, hold your death in your mind. Remember the day after your burial. Let eternity crush your attachment to this present age. Hope in this life weakens the soul. Do not begin with a divided heart. Divided labor exhausts and yields nothing. God does not give grace in proportion to our techniques but according to the ardor of love and the boldness of faith. “As thou hast believed, so be it done unto thee.” Some beat their heads in repentance. Some drown in prostrations. Some burn in psalmody. Some are seized into silence. There are many forms. But all give themselves without reserve. Then comes the ruin. One tastes and turns back. One tastes a little and grows proud. One is enslaved by ambition. One by vainglory. One by greed. One by habit. One begins well and does not endure. These are the lions. Not in the street. In the heart. The one who stands firm does not turn back until he receives the pearl. He begins again and again. He refuses slackness. He does not wait for ideal conditions. He does not demand guarantees. Always begin. If the heart is pure from passion and doubt, God Himself raises the soul. Not because it was clever. Not because it was impressive. But because it believed and stepped onto the blood-stained road without bargaining. Begin. Or die still talking about the journey. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:07:55 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Anthologion 00:08:15 Jesssica Imanaka: https://ignatius.cc/products/anthologion-modern-english 00:08:28 Una's iPhone: What about The Agpeya? Coptic 00:08:43 Jessica McHale: I use the Publicans Prayer Book. Sophia Press. It's a Small Horologion. 00:09:14 Anthony: Reacted to I use the Publicans ... with "❤️" 00:09:24 Una's iPhone: What book is Gather talking about? 00:10:49 David Swiderski, WI: Reacted to "I use the Publicans ..." with

In this powerful episode, we unpack Luke 15's Parable of the Prodigal Son and connect it to real conversion, Lenten prayer, and the transformative journey of returning home to God.

Welcome to the podcast of Saint Patrick's Anglican Church in Lexington, KY. We meet Sundays at 4:30 p.m. at 200 Colony Blvd., Lexington, KY 40502. This podcast contains sermons and teaching for spiritual formation. Explore our church at www.saintpatrickschurch.org

Fr. Matthias Shehad explores the challenges of balancing spiritual life with daily responsibilities, emphasizing the importance of prioritizing God's presence in all aspects of life—whether at work, church, or home. He discusses practical ways to incorporate prayer and spiritual practices into busy schedules, like listening to sermons or praying the Jesus Prayer during everyday tasks. Fr. Matthias highlights the significance of aligning personal goals with God's will and recognizing spiritual growth as a gradual journey rather than an instant outcome. He stresses the value of accountability through confession and community support, encouraging active service within the church as a form of spiritual expression. By addressing distractions and time management from both a secular and spiritual perspective, Fr. Matthias offers guidance on maintaining inner peace and nurturing a closer relationship with Christ through consistent spiritual discipline and fellowship.

What examples do we see in the scriptures concerning how and when to pray?

This Adult Faith Formation session focuses on how Christians can intentionally grow in their relationship with Jesus Christ. Fr. Will Rooney presents the heart of the Christian life as a response to God's love—received first as a gift and then lived out through charity, prayer, and daily faithfulness. Drawing on Scripture, the teaching of Pope Benedict XVI, and the wisdom of the Church, the talk emphasizes that growth in relationship with God is measured not by feelings but by growth in love. Participants are encouraged to deepen their relationship with Christ through daily prayer, fidelity to the commandments, frequent reception of the sacraments, and life within Christian community. The session also includes guided reflection on personal values and the creation of a practical rule of life. By setting concrete, realistic goals rooted in virtue, participants are invited to cooperate with God's grace and grow steadily in holiness, learning to love God, neighbor, and self more fully.

Here St. Isaac does not define virtues as behaviors but as states of being before God. He strips away external markers and leaves the soul alone with truth. What he offers is not a ladder of accomplishments but a geography of the heart. A stranger, he says, is not one who has left a place, but one whose mind has been estranged from all things of life. This is the quiet violence of the Gospel: “They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world” (Jn 17:16). Estrangement here is not contempt for creation but freedom from possession. Abba Arsenius fled Rome, but what he truly fled was the tyranny of relevance. To become a stranger is to consent to being unnecessary. It is to let the world continue without you and discover that God remains. The mourner is not a melancholic soul but a hungry one. He lives, Isaac says, in hunger and thirst for the sake of his hope in good things to come. This is the blessed mourning of the Beatitudes, the ache that refuses consolation because it has tasted something eternal. St. John Climacus calls mourning “a sorrow that is glad,” because it is oriented toward the Kingdom. It is grief baptized by hope. Such a soul does not despise joy; it waits for the only joy that cannot be taken away. Then Isaac dares to say what a monk truly is. Not one who has taken vows, not one who wears a habit, but one who remains outside the world and is ever supplicating God to receive future blessings. The monk stands at the edge of time and begs. His posture is eschatological. He lives as though the promises are real. This is why the monk's wealth is not visible. It is the comfort that comes of mourning and the joy that comes of faith, shining secretly in the mind's hidden chambers. Christ Himself names this hiddenness when He says, “Your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Mt 6:6). The true treasure does not announce itself. It warms quietly. Mercy, too, is redefined. A merciful man is not one who performs selective kindness but one who has lost the ability to divide the world mentally into worthy and unworthy. This is the mercy of God Himself, who “makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good” (Mt 5:45). St. Isaac elsewhere says that a merciful heart burns for all creation: for humans, animals, demons, even for the enemies of God. Such mercy is not sentimental. It is cruciform. It is the heart stretched until it resembles Christ's own. And then Isaac turns to chastity, and again he refuses reduction. Virginity is not merely bodily restraint but an interior reverence. One who feels shame before himself even when alone. This is a startling phrase. It speaks of a soul that lives before God even when no one is watching. Shame here is not self-loathing but awe. It is the trembling awareness that one's thoughts are already prayers, or blasphemies, before the face of God. Therefore Isaac is unsparing: chastity cannot survive without reading and prolonged prayer. Without immersion in the Word, the imagination becomes a wilderness of unguarded images. Without prayer, the heart has no shelter. Abba Evagrius taught that thoughts are not defeated by force but by replacement—by filling the mind with divine fire. The Jesus Prayer, Scripture read slowly, the psalms murmured in weakness, these do not merely resist impurity; they transfigure desire itself. What unites all these sayings is this: St. Isaac is describing a soul that has accepted vulnerability. God has permitted the soul to be susceptible to accidents: not as punishment, but as mercy. Weakness becomes the doorway. Hunger becomes the guide. Shame becomes watchfulness. Mourning becomes wealth. Nothing here is safe, and nothing here is superficial. This is not an ethic for the strong. It is a path for those who have consented to be poor before God. In the end, St. Isaac is teaching us how to stand unarmed in the presence of the Kingdom; estranged from the world, aching for God, clothed in quiet prayer, and guarded not by our strength but by grace that shines unseen in the depths of the heart. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:04:33 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 170 paragraph 7 Homily Six 00:04:45 Angela Bellamy: What is the book titled please? 00:04:56 Angela Bellamy: Reacted to "What is the book tit..." with

We arrive at the conclusion of the article on how Jesus prays, teaches us to pray, and hears our prayer. Fr. Mike examines the remarkable beauty and simplicity of the “Jesus Prayer.” He also examines Mary's Fiat and Magnificat, and how she can pray and intercede for us. He concludes with an invitation to prayer by saying it is more important to pray than to talk about prayer. Today's readings are Catechism paragraphs 2616-2622. This episode has been found to be in conformity with the Catechism by the Institute on the Catechism, under the Subcommittee on the Catechism, USCCB. For the complete reading plan, visit ascensionpress.com/ciy Please note: The Catechism of the Catholic Church contains adult themes that may not be suitable for children - parental discretion is advised.

Though he has not been glorified by the Church, Fr Lazarus was a pioneer and exemplar of Orthodoxy in the West.   He was born in England in 1902. In his early manhood he moved to western Canada, where he worked as a farm laborer for several years. While working in Alberta, he sensed a call to become a missionary and went to an English missionary college for five years.   Sad to say, our sources are unclear about how he came to the Orthodox faith from this unlikely beginning. But in 1934 he spent seven weeks on Mt Athos, then lived as a monk in Yugoslavia. He was ordained to the priesthood by Archbishop Theophan (Russian Orthodox Church Abroad), then sent to Palestine to serve the Russian Mission in Jerusalem.   In 1948, the new State of Israel gave the Mission's property to the Soviet Union and the mission was left dispossessed. Fr Lazarus served as priest to the Russian Convent in Aïn Karim and Transjordan, then was sent to India in 1952, where he helped in Orthodox missionary work for twenty years. Several of his books and translations, such as his biography/study of St Seraphim of Sarov, were written while he lived in India. While there, he met Mother Gavrilia of Greece, whose beautiful biography Ascetic of Love includes good descriptions of him during his life in India. Though very strict in his Orthodoxy, he was flexible in externals: in India he wore a white rather than a black cassock, because black clothing had offensive connotations to the Indian people.   In 1972 Fr Lazarus was called to Greece, then in 1974 to Australia, where he served for nine years. In 1983 he moved to California in answer to call from Fr Peter Gillquist to assist members of the former 'Evangelical Orthodox Church' in their move to Orthodoxy. In 1989 he moved to Alaska, where he continued this work. He reposed in Eagle River, Alaska in 1992. Following is an excerpt from an account of his last days by members of his community in Eagle River:   "Father always signed his name with TWA, "Traveling With Angels". A few days before his death, after battling cancer many years, faithfully using the Jesus Prayer as the medicine for his affliction, the Archangel Michael appeared to help him. His final journey homeward had begun, TWA... 'the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.' (2 Timothy 4: 6-8)."

Though he has not been glorified by the Church, Fr Lazarus was a pioneer and exemplar of Orthodoxy in the West.   He was born in England in 1902. In his early manhood he moved to western Canada, where he worked as a farm laborer for several years. While working in Alberta, he sensed a call to become a missionary and went to an English missionary college for five years.   Sad to say, our sources are unclear about how he came to the Orthodox faith from this unlikely beginning. But in 1934 he spent seven weeks on Mt Athos, then lived as a monk in Yugoslavia. He was ordained to the priesthood by Archbishop Theophan (Russian Orthodox Church Abroad), then sent to Palestine to serve the Russian Mission in Jerusalem.   In 1948, the new State of Israel gave the Mission's property to the Soviet Union and the mission was left dispossessed. Fr Lazarus served as priest to the Russian Convent in Aïn Karim and Transjordan, then was sent to India in 1952, where he helped in Orthodox missionary work for twenty years. Several of his books and translations, such as his biography/study of St Seraphim of Sarov, were written while he lived in India. While there, he met Mother Gavrilia of Greece, whose beautiful biography Ascetic of Love includes good descriptions of him during his life in India. Though very strict in his Orthodoxy, he was flexible in externals: in India he wore a white rather than a black cassock, because black clothing had offensive connotations to the Indian people.   In 1972 Fr Lazarus was called to Greece, then in 1974 to Australia, where he served for nine years. In 1983 he moved to California in answer to call from Fr Peter Gillquist to assist members of the former 'Evangelical Orthodox Church' in their move to Orthodoxy. In 1989 he moved to Alaska, where he continued this work. He reposed in Eagle River, Alaska in 1992. Following is an excerpt from an account of his last days by members of his community in Eagle River:   "Father always signed his name with TWA, "Traveling With Angels". A few days before his death, after battling cancer many years, faithfully using the Jesus Prayer as the medicine for his affliction, the Archangel Michael appeared to help him. His final journey homeward had begun, TWA... 'the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.' (2 Timothy 4: 6-8)."

He was born in Ukraine in 1722, one of the many children of a priest. He attended the Ecclesiastical Academy in Kiev, but was disappointed by the worldliness, love of ease and western theological climate that he found there.   After four years he left the school and embarked on a search for a spiritual father and a monastery where he could live in poverty. He eventually found wise spiritual guides in Romania, where many of the Russian monks had fled after Peter the Great's reforms. From there he traveled to the Holy Mountain. Spiritual life was at a low ebb there also, and Plato (the name he had been given as a novice) became a hermit, devoting his days to prayer and reading the Holy Scriptures and the writings of the Fathers. After four years, a visiting Elder from Romania tonsured him a monk under the name Paisius, and advised him to live with other monks to avoid the spiritual dangers of taking up the solitary life too soon. A few brethren from Romania arrived, seeking to make him their spiritual father, but as he felt unworthy to take on this task, all of them lived in poverty and mutual obedience. Others joined them from Romania and the Slavic countries, and in time they took up the cenobitic life, with Paisius as their reluctant abbot.   In 1763 the entire community (grown to sixty-five in number) left the Holy Mountain and returned to Romania. They were given a monastery where they adopted the Athonite rule of life. Abbot Paisius introduced the Jesus Prayer and other aspects of hesychasm to the monastic life there: before this time, they had been used mostly by hermits. The services of the Church were conducted fully, with the choirs chanting alternately in Slavonic and Romanian. The monks confessed to their Elder every evening so as not to let the sun go down on their anger, and a brother who held a grudge against another was forbidden to enter the church, or even to say the Lord's Prayer, until he had settled it.   The monastic brotherhood eventually grew to more than a thousand, divided into two monasteries. Visitors and pilgrims came from Russia, Greece and other lands to experience its holy example.   St Paisius had learned Greek while on Mt Athos, and undertook to produce accurate Slavonic translations of the writings of many of the Fathers of the Church. The Greek Philokalia had been published not long before, and St Paisius produced a Slavonic version that was read throughout the Slavic Orthodox world. (This is the Philokalia that the pilgrim carries with him in The Way of a Pilgrim).   The Saint reposed in peace in 1794, one year after the publication of his Slavonic Philokalia. The Synaxarion summarizes his influence: "These translations, and the influence of the Saint through the activity of his disciples in Russia, led to a widespread spiritual renewal, and to the restoration of traditional monastic life there which lasted until the Revolution of 1917."