Pádraig Ó Tuama and Marilyn Nelson Shine on Krista Tippett's On Being
A transcript from an episode of On Being with Krista Tippett has been published that "venture[s] unexpectedly into the hospitable — and intriguingly universal — form of poetry that is prayer." Brought together at the recent On Being Gathering were poets Marilyn Nelson and Pádraig Ó Tuama. An excerpt:
MR. Ó TUAMA: “Prayer,” in English, comes from French, “prier” — “to ask.” And I think, sometimes, if it’s understood that prayer is only held by those who have a devotion to a religious understanding, we have limited prayer. That’s a limited imagination about what prayer is — because we all ask, and we all come in contact with deep desire, and that, in itself, is an experience of prayer. I think, one of the benefits of being part of a tradition where you can find form to put your prayer in is that you can feel like there’s a container for the things that it can be difficult to contain.
So that book builds on a form of prayer that you find in the English-language liturgical traditions. The form is called “collect,” which is just the same word as “collect.” It’s just a posher, more prayerful way to say “collect.”
[laughter]
The idea is that you’re collecting your intention and arranging them. In this form, you’re only allowed to ask one thing. And I think the form of collect is, in the English-language written tradition, as robust as sonnet, because it’s really clear. There’s five steps to it. They don’t have to follow a particular pentameter or any kind of rhythm, but they follow a progress. You name the God that you’re speaking to; and then, you say something more — a little bit like some character development. Then you name your request. And then, you give a reason for your request, which folds back into the top. Then you finish with a little bird of praise.
It makes you ask, what do I want? One thing — and how do I wrap that into a form that holds it, that reveals something back to me, rather than just a list of demands? Not that you have to pray like this. Half the time, prayer is: “Oh, God…” or something without any words, the deep groans of our experience. That’s why I like the Stations of the Cross too, because you move with your body around, and there’s a little repeated piece that you can say, if you want; you don’t have to — but there is form to it. And in poetry, form can hold the things in us that feel formless, and we can find space within form that, if we were to just say that we exist in space, for instance, we would never find that space. I think we have ways within which we seek to name the things about us.
I remember once being part of a group, we were speaking about prayer, and somebody said, “My prayer is, I’d like to laugh again.” And there was such vulnerability to say that to a roomful of people, “I’d like to laugh again.” I’d like to laugh again — five words. But there’s an entire life wrapped into those small five words. The compassion and kindness in that room — that was prayer. And if we can treat it as if God’s listening, well, then, we might find a way within which God is listening because of what we’re creating in the room.
And that goes beyond how you articulate a devotion. That goes into the ways in which you say, “Well, even if there isn’t a God, well, I’ll make one up in order to respond kindly into this room in a way that works well.” And that’s what I think prayer can be. It can be a deeply dignifying thing for the desires that we wish to name.
Read the entire conversation at On Being.