Fall/Winter 2002-03 Newsletter

The Announcement

by Debbie Harmon

    It’s amazing how one little piece of paper can completely change your life. I was led to such a piece of paper at the age of 29. Until that moment, I had only flirted with God. I never took religion or spirituality all that seriously. I wasn’t even aware enough of the concept of “spirituality” to know that it was something one could take seriously. Yet for some inexplicable reason, in the years preceding the discovery of this piece of paper, I dabbled in going to mass. I even experimented with a Returning Catholics group. I read too. I read M. Scott Peck, St. John of the Cross and Dostoevsky. The Dark Night of the Soul and Christian mysticism intrigued me. For the life of me, however, I had no idea “how” John of the Cross “did” this Dark Night thing. All of these dabblings I did sporadically, over the course of several years.

    Then one summer (1991), while studying Russian at Middlebury College in Vermont, I happened to hear a homily at a local church in which the priest mentioned that there were many forms of prayer. That blew my mind. I had no idea that there were ways of praying other than saying the “Our Father” and “Hail Mary” or asking God for help. The priest suggested saying a simple little prayer—to tell God I love Him. It felt strange, awkward and a little silly, but I followed his suggestion. Still, I was intrigued to know what he meant by other forms of prayer. I had to let it go for the moment, yet the question lingered with me.

    That fall I returned to doctoral studies at the University of Oklahoma in Norman. I still struggled with going to church. I didn’t have a car and it was stressful for me to get to church riding my bike. I’m not sure why I went—if it was guilt or some sort of inexpressible need. But I went.

    One Sunday, not too far into the fall semester, I rode my bike to a local church, St. Joseph’s. It was raining that morning, pouring really. And I did not have the proper gear to be riding a bike in the rain. Something unknown, stubbornness perhaps, made me go anyway. By the time I arrived, I looked a sight, I’m sure. Mud dripping from my pant legs, hair drenched with rainwater. St. Joseph’s was a church that ministered to the middle and upper middle class. Several curious looks were cast my way. I felt like a misfit and as if I truly did not belong there. But I stayed and I took home a Sunday bulletin. In it was a small announcement for a Centering Prayer group held at the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City, in Oklahoma City. I didn’t know what this prayer was all about, but I knew I had to check it out. It seemed to be the “more” I was looking for. One of the other ways of praying to which the priest in Vermont had referred. I was plagued with doubt and fear. Doubt because this couldn’t really be all that important for me to give up much needed study time in order to pursue it. I couldn't really justify doing this. Fear because I had no car and in order to get to Oklahoma City I would have to call people I’d never met before and beg for a ride to the meeting. I would have to ask for help, something I was loath to do. Only God knows, and God certainly does know, what made me overcome, or ignore, my doubt and fear. But I did. I got a ride from a very nice older woman and went to my first Centering Prayer meeting located on the grounds of the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City. I thought this was going to be an informational meeting; I was going to learn about the method of Centering Prayer. As it turned out, shortly after the meeting began, we dove right into 20 minutes of silence. Thoroughly clueless about it all, I had no idea what was happening. Thoughts ran through my head like steam engines. It was agony. I felt like I was flailing about in rough waters without a rudder, without an oar. No navigational devices. I was aware of much tension in my head. It gave me a headache.

    Afterward there was a sharing period— testimonials about how this prayer had changed people’s lives. I listened. It was a whole new language to me. Spoken in a whole new tone. These people seemed to be peaceful like no one I had ever met before. And depth. There was so much depth. Then we watched a video by Thomas Keating, one of the Trappist monks who founded this method of prayer. As I watched this animated, bald monk talk about this prayer, I soaked it in. I didn’t entirely understand what he was talking about, but I knew I wanted what he had. I didn’t care how many headaches it might give me or how few navigational devices I had. He spoke to me as church and mass and priests before him never had.

    Healing had taken place. Although I could not have named it healing then. I had been touched. I just knew, inwardly, that I desperately needed this in my life. A great hole in me had been uncovered—a hole I did not know was there before. And out of this hole came forth a great hunger for the spiritual life, for spiritual things, for spiritual sustenance. Out of this hole came a desire for holiness. This prayer changed my life. It brought me back to God. More amazingly, it brought me back into the church. No more flirting. No more dabbling. I was serious now. This prayer breathed life into the mass for me—it breathed life into everything. It totally changed the direction in which I had been looking for happiness. Within a year I would leave graduate school unfinished, return home to Milwaukee and devote the next eight years of the journey to “catching up” on my spiritual life. My hunger was beginning to be fed.

    For years after this I found myself reading Sunday bulletins faithfully. I’m not sure why. It was as if I was looking for something special in them. It finally dawned on me recently that there really was no practical reason for me to continue looking in the bulletins. I think I kept pouring over those bulletin announcements as a way of commemorating that one special announcement. Because of that one special little announcement, I had already found the “better part” as Mary had sitting at Jesus’ feet.

Debbie Harmon is a graduate student at the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola University Chicago. She is halfway through a dual degree program for a Master’s Degree in Pastoral Counseling and a Master’s of Divinity. Debbie is a trained presenter of the Centering Prayer Introductory Workshop and has been involved in Contemplative Outreach both in Milwaukee and Chicago.

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