As I woke up this morning and became aware of being alive, I became filled with wonder. Here I was, once more. One more day of uncertainty and surprises. All this before the habitual mind kicked in, the one that presumes to know what lies ahead. Shower, dress, get to work, bring bread to hospice; and, later on, remember appointments, that phone call, etc. etc. Thomas Merton calls this first moment the ‘virgin point,’ the instant upon waking when all is new and fresh and unknown.
No wonder that in many faith practices morning prayers hold special meaning. In the Jewish tradition, the Shema (“Hear, O Israel”), the basic creed of Judaism, accompanied by its series of fixed benedictions, was prayed in the morning and in the evening. Christians, like Jews, adopted the custom of praying at fixed times, and the most important times for public liturgical prayer in both traditions were the beginning and of each day.
Ever since spending a few days in private retreat with Camaldolese monks near Big Sur in California, I remember the chant with which they’d emerge from their enclosure to enter the public space of worship. “Lord, open my lips. And my mouth will proclaim your praise,” repeated three times.
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