Covered in Dust

One of my brother priests told me this story about prayer.

"I arrived to a home many years ago to bless it and the occupying family during the Theophany period. As I caught up with them about recent happenings in my life and at the parish, they bemoaned their situation in life and had nothing nice to say about anyone else in their extended family. It was a pretty negative situation, to say the least. Understandably, they asked me to pray for them, which of course, I do every day.

As we headed to their prayer corner to begin the prayers for the house blessing, I noticed that they led me to what appeared to be a storage closet: boxes everywhere. Sheepishly, they admitted that this pile of boxes was in front of their prayer corner and that due to the heavy weight of the contents of the storage containers, they could. not move them.

"Are you all moving?" I asked.

"No, why do you ask, father?"

"I presume these boxes have only been here for a day or two, since we agreed I would be here for this service, what, two weeks ago, now?" They knew their priest was coming and could not clean out their prayer corner?

By this point I had also noticed the thick layer of dust on everything. I was trying not to be too direct or rude. However, there was a didactic purpose to my questioning.

Again, in an embarrassed tone, they admitted that those boxes had been there for months, possibly longer.

"Ah. Well then, let's pull some of the icons out from behind this and place them on the boxes so that we can have a proper place to pray for the moment." As I went around the boxes I saw that the icon corner was in disarray and like the boxes, covered in dust. The lampada was nearly empty of oil and all that was in it was a green sludge at the bottom which held the wick float, half-submerged. I asked if they had any extra oil for their lamp so that we could fill it and light it.

"We don't like the soot, and our children are afraid it will burn the house down."

I had to contain myself.

"Incense?" There was a small censer in the corner, covered in dust.

"No charcoals. No incense. We don't want smoke in the house." they responded.

I pulled some icons from the dust piles and brushed them off. I wanted to cry. "Can none of them see?" I asked the Lord as I peered at his icon of "The Light-Giver."

Finally, after a few minutes of us pulling out some icons and dusting them off heavily, the man of the house admitted that they don't use the prayer corner all that often. Again, I had to control myself, for such was obvious.

"Where do you pray together as a family?"

They all shuffled uncomfortably. I knew the answer when I saw the place.

Before they could attempt to say anything, I began the prayers.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen...."

When the priest ended the prayers and the house was blessed, he exhorted his spiritual children to pray.

"You have asked me to pray for you, and I will; I always have and I always do. But consider this: you are asking your brother to tell your wife that you love her and would like roast chicken this evening for dinner. Also, if she could balance the checkbook, help you at work with that one co-worker, and make sure the kids get good grades so they could go to college, that would be great. Why aren't you asking your wife for these things, if she can provide them? Why aren't you telling her you love her, but relying on your brother? My beloved children, why don't you pray? You have problems. You have family strife. You have worries. You are depressed. Where is God in your life? How can you expect blessings when you don't ask for them? How can you expect blessings as a family when you don't involve the family in these things? Your children don't know the prayers and teachings of the Church, and you barely do, if I can say so in all honesty. If you did you would be at that corner meticulously cleaning it and using it, and your life would bear many blessings and moments of peace. In that, your icon corner is symbolic of the state of your soul. God has blessed your home. Do all that you can to keep that blessing and do not invite the demons back. Please, for your sake and the sake of your children, pray! God loves you very much. Talk to Him!"

St. Joseph of Optina said "Prayer is food for the soul. Do not starve the soul; better to let the body go hungry."

How can we complain of starvation when we purposely starve ourselves? How can we be healthy in soul -and in our life- if we are not praying? By praying I don't mean reading prayers in a book while facing some icons. I mean praying. Lifting our minds and hearts to God and talking with Him face-to-face, as it were. How can one say they love another yet not spend time with them?

We are surrounded by the constant message from society: Eat better; not just once, not just one day, but every day. Spend your time better; not just one hour, but every hour of every day. If we do, our lives will be better.

Prayer is the best food. Prayer is time perfectly spent.

In this crazy, chaotic world, a life of prayer is sanity. A life of prayer is peace. A life of prayer is life truly lived.

"Virtues are formed by prayer. Prayer preserves temperance. Prayer suppresses anger. Prayer prevents emotions of pride and envy. Prayer draws into the soul the Holy Spirit, and raises man to Heaven." -St. Ephrem the Syrian

“At the door of Your compassion do I knock, Lord; send aid to my scattered impulses which are intoxicated with the multitude of the passions and the power of darkness. You can see my sores hidden within me: stir up contrition—though not corresponding to the weight of my sins, for if I receive full awareness of the extent of my sins, Lord, my soul would be consumed by the bitter pain from them. Assist my feeble stirrings on the path to true repentance, and may I find alleviation from the vehemence of sins through the contrition that comes of Your gift, for without the power of Your grace I am quite unable to enter within myself, become aware of my stains, and so, at the sight of them be able to be still from great distraction.” -St. Isaac the Syrian