I’ve been in a lot of Anglican (Church of England) churches lately. I’ve been going to daily prayer in the Minster whenever I can, and whenever I pass a space in a cathedral or parish church reserved for prayer and reflection, I pray for William. I’ve also started, when I have the opportunity, lighting candles, which the churches typically provide. This is a new practice for me–I’ve been too Protestant in the past to consider adopting it. The act of lighting the candle while praying seemed to assume that the physical action did something “more” than the prayers themselves, which was an idea I rejected. In the Middle Ages, when wealthy people died, they often arranged for candles to be lit for them, either regularly (every day or every week), or on the anniversary of their death. And religious guilds often maintained “rolls of the dead,” with the names of dead community members written in a book; the names were then read aloud on All Souls and the community prayed that these individuals would be sped out of Purgatory and into eternal bliss. As the concern with having candles lit suggests, however, the idea seems to have been that the action itself was efficacious. (I haven’t read about these practices for a while–I’ll probably be able to tell you more later this week!) So I’ve tended to shy away from lighting candles while I pray.
But I’ve found myself drawn to lighting candles lately. The action is obviously symbolically rich–light in the darkness, hope for those who need it, the candle seems to do physically what we often try to do with our prayers. We are piercing some darkness (our own or someone else’s), or we are expressing our joy and gratitude, all of which seem to befit candle lighting. But I also find that I like lighting a candle when I pray because, when you walk away from the church, your candle is still burning. As I’ve prayed for William, and also for some dear friends of ours, I find that I am focusing in the moment of prayer a love, care, and concern that I am carrying with me constantly. And since “prayer without ceasing” doesn’t mean that I could, even if I wanted, constantly speak to God on their behalf, the candle both enacts and represents my prayers for these loved ones.
When I say “enacts and represents,” I mean both that the candle is a symbol of what I think I am already doing in the act of pausing and spending a few minutes praying in a specific and focused way. And as a symbolic action, it is rich and meaningful. But I also mean that the physical action enhances my own prayers. A prayer doesn’t get “value added” because I lit a candle; I don’t mean that. But the candle spurs me to focus my own prayers, reminds me to continue praying when I leave, and comforts me that my ongoing concern for these loved ones is heard by God, just as the candle is seen by God, after I have left my focused moments of directed prayer.
I was writing to Corey about all of this, and about how lovely it is to pray in the Minster, and he wrote jokingly “maybe Minster candles and prayers get like express-mailed, extra-special consideration?” Minster prayers might not get extra-special consideration, but in a space like the Minster, my act of prayer seems extra special. Praying in such a magnificent space, with a deep and enduring history of Christian faithfulness (and unfaithfulness) causes me to take care with my own requests. I become aware of God’s splendor, but the candle trees outside of chapels remind me of his invitation to “make all my wants and wishes known.” And in a place where my attention is (literally) drawn heavenward, I find myself wanting to pray. The Minster is, in a word, sacred space. And by praying there, I bring into that space with me those I love, I am reminded of how much I do care for them, and I focus on giving these cares to God. The traditional explanation of lighting a candle is that it indicates an intention to pray. But I think that, for me, lighting a candles has been part of the praying itself.
So, my dearest little William, and my very dear friends (you know who you are), I have left candles burning for you. You are in my prayers.
If I can get up to it later, some more thoughts on attending an evangelical Anglican church…
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