Approach 1: God is a being with infinite strength, and His grace can lead us to success in this life. For this reason, we pray to him for things like strength, peace, and material success.

Approach 2: God is not some outside being, but rather, We are God — that strength, peace, and success all comes from within us. For this reason, we pray to be able to find this source of inner strength so that we can spread strength, peace and success to others.

My ideal has always been to be so grounded in my spirituality that I no longer prayed for myself (the first approach) but rather that I prayed as a way of reminding myself of my inherent divinity. In other words, I want to have such inner strength/peace/happiness that I don’t need to ask any outside entity to supply me with it. Then, prayer will be a way for me stay charged and strong, so that I can constantly give without asking for anything in return. In that way, achieving that second approach to prayer is my goal.

Given that, I thought I would share the following poem with you – a close friend sent it to me, and it struck me as a beautiful way of expressing this goal. The poem was written by the venerated Saint Francis of Assisi, a Catholic friar and preacher — its similarity to the sentiments echoed in Hindu philosophy are striking!

“Prayer of St. Francis”

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

How do you approach religion? Do you think the sentiments expressed in this poem can actually lead to inner peace and happiness, or is it just meaningless self-sacrifice? What is the point of prayer?

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The Guru meditating in his Himalayan cave opened his eyes to discover an
unexpected visitor sitting there before him — the abbot of a well-known monastery.
“What is it you seek?” asked the Guru.
The abbot recounted a tale of woe. At one time his monastery had been famous
throughout the western world. Its cells were filled with young aspirants and its
church resounded to the chant of its monks. But hard times had come on the
monastery. People no longer flocked there to nourish their spirit, the stream of
young aspirants had dried up, the church was silent. There was only a handful of
monks left and these went about their duties with heavy hearts.
Now this is what the abbot wanted to know: “Is it because of some sin of ours that
the monastery has been reduced to this state?”
“Yes,” said the Guru, “a sin of ignorance.” “And what sin might that be?”
“One of your numbers is the Messiah in disguise and you are ignorant of this.”
Having said that the Guru closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.
Throughout the arduous journey back to his monastery the abbot’s heart beat fast
at the thought that the Messiah — but the Messiah himself — had returned to earth and
was right there in the monastery. How is it he had failed to recognize him? And
who could it be? Brother Cook? Brother Sacristan? Brother Treasurer? Brother
Prior? No, not he; he had too many defects alas. But then the Guru had said he was
in disguise. Could those defects be one of his disguises? Come to think of it,
everyone in the monastery had defects. And one of them had to be the Messiah!
Back in the monastery he assembled the monks and told them what he had discovered.
They looked at one another in disbelief. The Messiah? Here? Incredible! But he was
supposed to be here in disguise. So, maybe. What if it were so-and-so? Or the
other one over there? or….
One thing was certain: If the Messiah was there in disguise it was not likely that
they would recognize him. So they took to treating everyone with respect and
consideration. “You never know,” they said to themselves when they dealt with one
another, “maybe this is the one.”
The result of this was that the atmosphere in the monastery became vibrant with
joy. Soon dozens of aspirants were seeking admission to the Order — and once again
the Church re-echoed with the holy and joyful chant of monks who were aglow with
the spirit of Love.
Of what use is it to have eyes if the heart is blind?

It always amazes me how once the members of the monastery realised that the Messiah was among them, everyone began to look beyond the imperfections of their colleagues to see the divinity in them. If the world was our monastery, ’seeing the Messiah’ and goodness in the other members would help each of as not only see the divinity in others, but also, see the divinity in ourselves. In words of Michelangelo, ‘Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.’ We must strive to be the like skilled sculptor who can truly see that each soul is potentially divine.

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