Keeping Watch

The night before brave souls would be knighted by King Arthur they had to fulfill one last requirement. In the chapel, all through the small hours of the morning, they had to keep watch. I remember hearing the stories of the knights of the Round Table as a child when I went to Camp Winnataska. These legends remain an important strand in the weave of the camp's ethos. Today though, I wonder how readily available are opportunities for night watches or watches of any kind.

This coming Sunday's Gospel lesson from Luke challenges us to "be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that [we] may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks" (12:36). As I admitted in yesterday's blog I am quite impatient, so how do I (and how do we) learn to wait in a society devoid of rituals that bid us to practice the art of waiting on the Lord? We must take a page from King Arthur's book and bring back the vigil, but perhaps in a different way.

Every Maundy Thursday growing up at St. Andrew's Church in Birmingham I found myself with family members and strangers alike sitting in St. Mary's Chapel waiting. Many churches have this practice on remembering Jesus' call to stay awake with him praying, like he did in the Garden of Gethsemane. So, for an entire hour I was compelled to sit in silence. This was awfully challenging when I was a rambunctious tween. I could read or draw very politely, but that was it. "What a bore!" I thought. My mom did wisely provide the proverbial carrot of pizza at the end of that hour vigil, but this was my only real world link to what I had heard in the stories of King Arthur's knights, and I did not much like it.

Fast forward to college when Chaplain Tom Ward invited some friends and me to take part in a type of Christian meditation. I felt a little pressured by them to come along, but quickly I discovered through Tom's excitement about this type of prayer that this was not just some strange new theological fad. No, this was and very much still is a way of vigilantly waiting for Christ's knocking at our hearts. For most of my sophomore year I tried out this type of prayer, and I still recall that being the most grounded year of college. Then, I lost touch with Centering Prayer, which calls for one to focus on a word that centers one's entire being on resting in God's presence. That was until I met my wife.

About four years ago I met Kim at a meeting for our seminary's flag football team (I know right?). Immediately I felt a connection with her, and one of the ways that we immediately bonded was through Centering Prayer. I was in serious need of some spiritual depth as I entered my final year of MDiv. studies. I felt like God was pounding on the door of my heart, but how could I get down to unlock it and let Christ inside? Kim invited me to practice this type of patient prayer, which I struggled with this time around. However, the more I practice it the more it fills me up and allows me to realize that it is not about the practice of prayer, but how our lives become a life of waiting and watching.

Cursillo Reunion groups ask the question, "What was your closest moment to Christ this week?" I feel like what Jesus attempts to say to us through this week's reading is wait and watch for my coming. Centering Prayer wakes me up to a contemplative life in which I am constantly wondering where will I see God's handiwork next. This Cursillo question does likewise. So, how will you wait for God? Through prayer? Through a Cursillo Reunion or other small group? Through serving others? Through looking for Christ in the Holy Eucharist? We all are charged with the task of keeping watch. How do you wait for God?