Praying With Eyes Open

A Brief Reflection on Seeing

Frescoes in the Collegiate Church of Alquezar, Huesca, Aragon, Spain

Prayer is often understood as an act that enkindles what will be, rather than one that opens up and discloses that which already is. Growing up, I felt shame when I opened my eyes during prayer, as if the substance and telos of my supplications could never truly reside in my material home. Lately, I have noticed my daughter, Flora, looking out the window as we drive, singing her heart out to the songs of movies that have captured her imagination, almost in an uninterruptible daze. She sings and thus sees, even in urban centers and suburban corner-stores, the possibility of magic, talking trees, fiery dragons, and adventure. Flora weaves in and out of our mundane life and the grand stories of adventure we read and watch with such ease, as if the line between them is thinner than one would think at first glance. I do not often look at the world with this sense of possibility. Instead, I see things as decided, often hopelessly expressing, “it is was it is.” Flora, on the other hand, seems to believe Jesus when he says, “the Kingdom of God is in your midst.”¹ Maybe Flora’s songs are prayers for me, for our world, that we may see what truly is. Maybe the world is more alive than I once thought it was. Maybe I need to start praying with my eyes open again.

1. Luke 17:21