“Saying prayers” has gotten a lot of bad press over the last five decades from those who presume incorrectly that extemporaneous prayers are more personal, heartfelt, better, or more pleasing to God than memorized prayers. Maybe, maybe not. Sometimes, sometimes not. These folks—often ginned up neophytes to faith—take it upon themselves to inform us that “praying isn’t just saying prayers.” Of course, it’s not. But, they fail to see and say that it is praying if they are said sincerely and prayerfully. Additionally, some extemporaneous prayers—especially those spoken aloud in a group setting—are so full of the supposed pray-er that it feels more like a mini-speech to those gathered than a cry of the heart to God. Simone Weil, the twentieth-century French intellectual, mystic, and social activist used to try to pray the Lord’s Prayer in Greek all the way through wholeheartedly, attentively, without being once distracted or losing focus.

There are some written prayers that are so universally appealing, so beautiful, so evocative, so full of pathos, or so indigenous to the human heart that they are second only to silence as a way of connecting with the Divine or breaking open our hearts or both.

It is no accident that for thousands of years people have been praying Psalm 23. It is hard to improve on “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” It is telling that for hundreds of years people have been praying St. Francis’s Canticle of the Sun, the “Magnificat,” Mary of Nazareth’s hymn of praise, St. Augustine’s prayer that begins, “Too late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient, O Beauty so new,”  St. Patrick’s prayer within a prayer, “Christ Before Me,”  St. Hildegard of Bingen’s prayer to the Holy Spirit, St. John of the Cross’ prayer “O Living Flame of Love,” St. Ignatius’ “Suscipe” beginning, Take, Lord, receive,” Reinhold Niebuhr’s well-worn Serenity Prayer, and Thomas Merton’s prayer that starts, “O Lord, my God, I have no idea where I am going” are examples of written prayers that have lasting power and enduring significance for people through the ages.

Below is one of my favorite prayers. It was written by Howard Thurman (1899 – 1981). Thurman was a modern day mystic, theologian, pastor, philosopher, educator, and civil rights activist. A student of the Quaker Rufus Jones, he met with Mahatma Gandhi while traveling in India. Thurman was a proponent of non-violent resistance and was a mentor to Martin Luther King, Jr. In 1944, Thurman helped found and co-pastored the Church for the Fellowship of All Peoples in San Francisco which was the first interracial and intercultural church in the United States. Thurman’s prayer bears a certain resemblance in cadence and content to the simple elegance of The Prayer of St. Francis.[1] Not as well known as the prayers named above, I believe it belongs in their company. It is called:

Lord, Lord, Open Unto Me!

Open unto me—light for
my darkness.

Open unto me—courage for
my fear.

Open unto me—hope for
my despair.

Open unto me—peace for
my turmoil.

Open unto me—joy for
my sorrow.

Open unto me—strength for
my weakness.

Open unto me—wisdom for
my confusion.

Open unto me—forgiveness for
my sins.

Open unto me—tenderness for
my toughness.

Open unto me—love for
my hates.

Open unto me—Thy Self for
my self.

Lord, Lord, open unto me!

~ from Meditations of the Heart by Howard Thurman2

[1] Although commonly attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, the author of  “The Prayer of St. Francis”, sometimes called “The Peace Prayer of St. Francis“, is anonymous. Nowhere among the writings of the poor man from Assisi, the Franciscan Order does not list it among the official prayers of Francis. The furthest back it has been traced is 1912 in France.

[2] For a beautiful version of Howard Thurman’s prayer set to music by Richard Bruxvoort Colligan click here.