“Prayer Without Belief”
by Roland Evans

Like great art and great music, prayer brings out the poetry of soul.
Zalman Schachter-Shalomi
 
I am not a religious believer, yet I love to pray. The need to pray crept up slowly, insinuated itself into my daily life until it became an everyday spontaneous happening. There is nothing formal or structured in my practice; it arises from an inner need to relate to some mysterious force far beyond my understanding. At different times, I find the results of prayer perplexing, soothing, comforting, enlivening, uplifting and joyful. It is never the same.
 
Admitting that I pray feels somewhat awkward. We non-believers keep our prayers to ourselves; we don’t want to be seen as superstitious or be confused with religious fundamentalists. It’s acceptable to say you meditate or contemplate in nature, but sending entreaties, praise or pleas for forgiveness out into the void, is obviously irrational and somewhat childish. However, once we divorce prayer from doctrine, it doesn’t seem odd at all. Prayer is natural; belief is optional.
 
Unlike formal meditation practice, I find praying simpler and more convenient. You can do it anywhere and anytime; it’s always there in your back pocket. You’d be surprised how much time there is for a short prayer: walking to your car, going to the bathroom, lying awake in bed, washing dishes. When I’m not actively concentrating on a task, I might as well pray. It’s better than letting my mind wander all over the place, full of useless and often negative nonsense. Like good food, prayer is nourishment for the soul.
 
What then is praying? For me, it means invoking and expressing a certain quality of inner experience in words, attitude and actions. Sometimes it’s a silent “Thank you” or “Please help me.” Other times it’s wordless singing—often quite loud (my wife is very tolerant!). I tend to direct my invocations upward and outward towards what I call God, but I have no idea what that means. In fact, the less I know, the more I experience.

The word “God” acts as a placeholder for something I can’t comprehend—a potency unknown and unknowable. I sense a numinous Presence, but whatever it is, it does not require me to believe anything in particular.
 
Of course, as a psychologist I am very interested in the phenomenon of religion and in all aspects of spirituality. I’ve studied the major religions since I was an adolescent. The creativity and spiritual yearning embodied in myriads of belief systems fascinates me. Religion seems to reflect our inbuilt human need for meaning and inner guidance. In their different forms, every faith seeks to mirror our most transcendent aspirations. 
 
However, the rigid institutions and dogma built up around real spiritual experiences are all too often divisive, destructive and ugly. The inner core of spirituality is vibrant, while the outer façade is blotched with blight. I am reluctant to bite into that fruit.
 
So why pray? That’s a bit like asking, ‘Why look at a beautiful sunset?’ Essentially, there is no logic except to connect with something more expansive than our normal boxed-in self-concern. Praying raises us out of our narrow mental set; it quiets the mind and opens the heart. Through prayer we learn we are not isolated egos but intimately involved with a universe far beyond our normal perception.
 
Connection and relationship are the essence of prayer. My mind is strong, so my spirituality has to counterbalance my thinking with a large dose of devotion, gratitude and worship. Those feelings arise naturally from a luminous center, traditionally called the inner heart. Humanness is the harmonizing of mindfulness with heartfulness. Can we be human if we do not exercise our inner heart with love and compassion?
 
I identify with my own way of praying; it is deeply personal. I can’t tell anyone else what to do, or how they should do it. Prayer is an upswelling of the deepest Self; it is not a technique to accomplish something we desire, however worthy.  What matters most is the praying, not the prayer; how is more important than what. Whether you believe or un-believe, when you are called to pray, listen and respond in your own unique way.