Learning to Pray Together
by Sarah Robinson
There’s not too much in common about where we meet. Two old churches, but one big, the other small. Another church from the middle of the last century, usually filled with people of a similar vintage. A garage (or in the winter, a basement) of a home for folks 18 to 20-something.*
Not much in common, except we keep the lights low and there’s a candle in the centre. A Christ candle, you might say.
Oh and there’s usually coffee. Except in Lent, when there’s just hot water.
And how much is common between the people? They might have come from a Reformed or Baptist or Catholic or Pentecostal or Mennonite or other tradition. They might usually go to St Cuthbert’s Presbyterian, First Hamilton CRC, Eucharist, St Clair, or some other church on Sundays.
Not too much in common, except the audacity to be singing a capella to the Lord of the universe at 6:30 in the morning or 9:45 at night.
Well, not everyone does. But they show up. And that still counts.
Somehow it counts to listen to the day’s lectionary readings, as unexpected as they may be. It counts to simply sit in silence with other human beings. It counts to actually get on the floor, kneeling to confess sins or remember our city before God.
The prayers also count if kneeling isn’t an option for old knees. Though apparently it’s the standing up after that’s the real problem.
If you come, whether out of curiosity or desperation (because who can fix all the things?), it’s okay to feel uncomfortable—uncommon, perhaps. Everything else about your day will be or has been about speed, ease, volume, visibility. And we’re trying to watch with God slowly, honestly, quietly, humbly. So there’s no website.
Maybe we should start calling ourselves the Uncommon Community of Common Prayer.
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The Community of Common Prayer grows out of the Anglican tradition, gathers at branches across Hamilton, and bonds Christians across differences. We’re learning to pray together.