GOD of love, whose compassion never fails, we bring before you the trouble and perils of people and nations, the sighing of prisoners and captives, the sorrows of the bereaved, the necessities of strangers, the helplessness of the weak, the despondency of the weary, the failing powers of the aged. O Lord, draw near to each, for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord.
St Anselm
I HAVE long been a fan of St Anselm (1033-1109), who, having been Abbot of Bec in Normandy from 1078, became Archbishop of Canterbury in 1093. He was a considerable theologian, whose Cur Deus Homo (which he wrote while banished to Rome by William II) remains one of the best-known works on the atonement.
It is not only his prowess as a theologian which impresses me: I love his commitment to friendship, exemplified in his beautiful prayer for friends (see The Prayers and Meditations of St Anselm with the Proslogion, published by Penguin). Like many medieval Christians, most notably Thomas Aquinas and, best of all, Aelred of Hexham, Anselm took seriously that Jesus calls us his friends and calls us to be friends with one another, recognising that friendship should be the central human relationship for Christians.
Prayer is about relationship with Jesus as our friend and brother, as well as Saviour and King. It should never be reduced to a “shopping list”, but part of that relationship will involve articulating to God our concerns. This prayer, I think, represents the very best of how that should be done in intercessory prayer. I first came across it while I was a residentiary canon at Ely and responsible for intercessions at evensong when I was the Canon in Residence. I had never had to offer so much public intercession.
It seemed to me then, as it does now, that this prayer sums up pretty much all of what one might — and should — say in intercession. The categories of those for whom the prayer is offered are comprehensive: whom else should we pray for, except those mentioned in it? These categories are as relevant and pertinent today as they were when the prayer was written, hundreds of years ago.
I love the prayer, not only for what it articulates, but for what it doesn’t. It is not prescriptive about what God should do; it simply asks God to “draw near to each”. I find that beautiful and compelling. Who are we to say what is best for individuals, let alone the world? We might want those dear to us to be healed if they are afflicted, but we need to remember that, for us, as Christians, death is the ultimate healing.
I sometimes felt that I should just say this prayer at evensong and then shut up, but didn’t, because I would have offended those who feel that the more words are said the better the prayers will be. As T. S. Eliot reminds us, though, prayer “is more Than an order of words, the conscious occupation Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying”. Rather, intercessory prayer pulls us into the tow of God’s connectedness to everything. In it, we become part of the current that shows us that nothing is separated from anything else, no one from everyone else. We are in an ocean that flows under everything, and through everyone.
Michel Quiost expresses this beautifully in one of his Prayers of Life: “I would understand that everything is linked together . . . that nothing is secular, neither things nor people, nor events, but that, on the contrary, everything has been made sacred in its origin by God and that everything must be consecrated by man made divine.” In prayer, we enter into “the mystery of this world which, despite the innumerable and hateful snags of sin, is a long throb of love towards life eternal”.
Understanding this, we shall, God willing, be strengthened to turn our prayer into action in the service of our fellow human beings, in the vein of Susan Wood’s poem, “A Dusty Mirror” (Reflections in a Dusty Mirror, AMREF, 1992):
. . . for your need
I offer all I have.
What have I for your comfort?
But this poor human cloak
Spread for you
Lovingly.
Dr John Inge is a former Bishop of Worcester and an honorary assistant bishop in the diocese of Salisbury.