WHY I DON'T PRAY IN CLASS

As you may know, I teach at an evangelical Christian university. It seems like a strange fit sometimes, what with my progressive ideologies and occasional snarky attitudes toward the religious right, but on the whole it's a pleasant experience. I don't mind being an enigma. In fact, I quite enjoy it sometimes. I recognize the danger of slipping into my own sanctimonious martyr complex, so I try to engage in regular self-examination and criticism. Valuing honesty over agendas works pretty well for me.

At the University, many of the faculty begin classes and meetings with prayer. Makes sense: Christian school, prayer, etc. I, on the other hand, do not begin classes with prayer. It's a college, not a church. After having my faith questioned by a student a year or so ago, when he challenged me on my class prayer platform, I wrote this essay that I distribute with my syllabi.

WHY I DON’T PRAY IN CLASS

Okay, so I don’t pray in class. This is a relief to some, a concern for others.

You might assume that I am opposed to praying in class. You’d be wrong. You can pray if you want to. I know some praying professors, and I completely support them. If they are compelled by the spirit to begin class with prayer, who am I to discourage, denigrate, or otherwise diminish them in their obedience to God? And it’s not like I’ve never prayed in class. I just don’t make a habit of it.

You might also assume that I am not the praying type. You’d be wrong again. Many mornings (but not as many as I should) at 6:30 a.m. I settle in and center down. I begin with a time of contemplative meditation, where I discipline myself to remove all distraction from my mind except the holy presence of God. I do that in complete stillness and silence for 15 minutes or so, until the spirit of Christ fully inhabits me. I offer my thanks, confess my sins, and ask for help. After that I join my family and my dog. We read scripture and pray together. Justice, the dog, is a canine mystic. She puts her head on her paws and usually lets out a gentle grunt, as though she is in touch with a deeper spirit than we silly humans.

It is rare for me to finish a time of prayer with dry eyes. Something about the truth and grace of it just gets to me. Sometimes it's hard to pull myself out of the world of the spirit and into the step and fetch of the here and now.

I have taught at the University for eight years, and I have seen hundreds of meetings and gatherings begin with prayer. Sometimes it strikes me as humble and genuine, but too often it is sort of like calling a meeting to order - like a pledge of allegiance or a national anthem.

I take this cue from Jesus’ teaching in the Gospel According to Matthew:

And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

I don’t pray in class because prayer shakes me, it shatters me, it breaks me into a thousand pieces, and puts me back together. It gets me lost and finds me. It tears me up and mends me. It’s like nudity: beautiful and grim, and rarely appropriate for public consumption. I know that every prayer doesn’t have to be so intimate and intense. I do pray in a “normal” way at times. But, I’m not a big fan of “normal.”

Now that I’ve told you far more than you ever wanted to know, you understand why I don’t pray in class. Feel free to disagree, and even criticize me if you wish; but if you do, I may ask you to join me at 6:30 in the morning.