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“May my prayer be corrected, like incense before You”! (Ps. 140:2). Alas, how weak and unclean everything is in us, even the best and most perfect! If there is anything precious left in our nature from its primeval perfections, then it is prayer, through which a person instantly rises above everything earthly and corruptible, becomes above heaven and everything created, approaches the throne of God Himself and enters into direct communication with Him. Together with prayer, everything that is evil and dark in the soul immediately falls away, everything that is pure and good comes to life and receives strength; together with prayer, the mind brightens, feelings soften, the will becomes freer, the conscience becomes clearer, the soul calms down, the body itself comes into order and becomes less earthly and heavy. Prayer is, as it were, a kind of contact with the Divine, bringing down supernatural power in us and changing our entire being for the better. But, alas, the innate corruption and impurity of our fallen nature are so great that they penetrate our very prayer to the point that they often take away all its power, making it dead and fruitless. And if only she were barren! There are also prayers that turn into sin for the one praying. Therefore, the Holy Church, among other subjects of petitions, teaches us to pray about our prayer itself, so that it will be what it should be: “may my prayer be corrected, like an incense before You” (Ps. 141:2). Why “let it be fixed”? From heaviness and burden: from rudeness and uncleanness, lethargy and lifelessness. By forcing themselves, the most sensual people can stand for some time in prayer. But even for insensible people, standing in prayer, especially for a long time, always constitutes some kind of work, after which even bodily rest is necessary; so that without this they are not able to quickly do anything else. Isn’t this a sign that the spirit of prayer has moved so far from us that it has become, as it were, alien and alien to us? For prayer itself should not constitute burden and work for us, but joy, peace and pleasure. Look at the world of the Angels: there are neither our needs and temptations, nor our sorrows and sorrows, and yet the Cherubim and Seraphim surrounding the throne of God cry out: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts” (Isa. 6:3); they cry out and never find it tiresome. Why? Because prayer is a necessary need of their existence. For the celestials, to be tired of praying would be the same as for us to be tired of breathing. Should you and I, beloved listener, suddenly seek for ourselves this never-ending prayer of the seraphim? May those who can bear it accept this lofty gift! For us, for the first time, it will be no small gift if our prayer ceases to be like a stone on the neck, oppressing us to the ground; if we, although in the midst of our timely prayer, are not like a bird without wings, which wants to rise to a height and immediately falls down. So, “may our prayer be corrected before You, O Lord”! Let my cold and unfeeling heart be at least like the censer that I look at during worship! Just as in a censer, when it is filled with fire, the incense uncontrollably strives upward, to the vaults of the church, so let my thoughts and feelings soar to the throne of Thy grace, when the Holy Church kindles them with the fire of her prayers and chants! Just as a censer becomes lighter when the incense flies out of it, so may I, after prayer, become lighter in spirit and heart, more cheerful to do good deeds! The second drawback of our prayers is their rudeness and impurity. On our own, we don’t even know what to pray for as we ought to (Rom. 8:26). But even having been taught how to pray by the Lord Himself, we do not pray as we were taught. We are inspired to pray - His kingdom come and His will be done, as in heaven, so on earth, (Matthew 6:10) and we would like, through our very prayer, to extend our own dominion to all and subordinate everything to our blind arbitrariness. We are allowed to ask only for our daily bread, that is, such an amount of earthly blessings as is necessary for our short stay on earth, and we would like to take into our hands all the blessings of the world, we would rejoice and be merry if no one had any bread left, only in our granaries. We are forbidden to appear before the face of God without reconciling with our brother, without leaving debts to our minions, that is, to everyone who is guilty of anything before us, and we, vindictive ones, are ready, sometimes in the midst of prayer itself, to ask for revenge on our so-called enemies. And what enemies? They often suffer much more from us than we do from them. All this and much worse results from the fact that our prayer, instead of the fragrance of faith and love, spreads around us the deadly stench of pride, malice and covetousness. How can I, after this, when I begin to pray, not first of all raise my voice with humility that “may my prayer be corrected... before You,” Lord! May all earthly and unclean thoughts be removed from her! May I know my true needs, and most of all, may I not forget at this time my sinful poverty and the need to correct my life, and may my spiritual renewal become the first and last object of my desires and petitions before You! If I, the foolish one, having forgotten all this, should ever appear, O Lord, in Thy church with sensual desires, with petitions, the fulfillment of which would be detrimental to me, then may my heart be like a faded incense during this unclean prayer! When the incense of faith and love is no longer in him, then at least let not the pernicious stench of malice and wickedness come out of him! May my tongue then stick to my larynx, and I will be unable to speak! Finally, our prayers, even in their most purified form, are for the most part weak, lifeless and therefore ineffective. We sometimes pray for spiritual blessings, for example, for the coming of the Kingdom of God, but so weakly, as if these blessings either did not really exist or were not worth a great price. We sometimes ask for liberation from sins and passions, but so coldly, as if our vicious life were an evil of no importance, from which it is not bad to be freed, but with which we can, however, live until death without great harm. We apparently surrender our fate and those of our relatives to the will of God, but in almost the same way as we call and write ourselves as the most humble servants of each and every one, that is, in words alone, without thinking that we have committed ourselves to anything by this. Such weak and lifeless prayer, instead of reviving and strengthening us on the path of life, often weakens our conscience even more, plunging us into spiritual carelessness. After such prayer, we are just as weak for good, just as weak to fight temptations and passions, just as inconsolable in the midst of sorrows and temptations, and often almost further from our salvation. How and with what to help this powerlessness and lifelessness in prayer? Just as one helps a dying censer - by fanning the old fire or adding a new one. Where can I get breath and fire for this? A certain part of both can be found, with God’s help, in ourselves. From intense, often repeated reflection on the wretched condition of a sinner such as we are, a certain current of thought may arise which is not incapable of stirring up fading prayer. From the movement of spiritual feelings - when thinking about God, eternity, our Savior and His suffering - warmth can be born in the heart, which is resolved into prayer. But let no one deceive himself; all this is not enough for our prayer to become like fragrant incense. For this, a breath from above is necessary - the very grace of God; the immaterial fire of the Holy Spirit is required, which, in the words of St. Paul, passes “to the dividing of our soul and spirit, members and marrow” (Heb. 4:12), consuming everything unclean and sinful in them. To whom this Spirit “breathes according to his inheritance,” he, according to the expression of the Holy Church, “will be lifted up from the earth” 2 ; then it is not so much the person himself who prays, but the Spirit of God, interceding in him and for him with “groanings that cannot be uttered” (Rom. 8:26). And the man? In the midst of this prayer of the Spirit, according to the testimony of people who have experienced this state, it is like metal permeated with fire. Then no impurity can stick to the soul, or it immediately disappears by itself: then the whole world is forgotten; there is no other feeling other than the all-filling and all-substituting presence of God; there are no other desires except for Peter on Tabor: the desire to remain forever in this blissful state. The flesh, having become spiritual, either remains silent, as if it does not exist, or soars after the spirit and is ready to pour itself out in tears, to fly away in sighs. Then it is no longer the mind and will, but the whole being of man, like a censer, before the face of God. This was the state that Saint David sought and desired when he cried out in his prayer to the Lord: “kindle... my womb!” (Ps. 72:21). And when this heavenly fire descended on him, his heart belched out “a good word,” and his tongue became the reed of a “scribe” (Ps. 44:2). Someone asks: how and how to attract such grace of the Spirit into the heart? Most of all, beloved co-questioner, humility and a sense of one’s insignificance, constant prayerful desire for the grace of God, purity of thoughts and intentions! The Lord will never despise a humble heart and a contrite spirit (Ps. 50:19)! The soul that longs for prayer and grace will never be left without help by the Holy Spirit! Amen. Matins. Degree, Antiphon 1 – Editorial “The ABCs of Faith” You might be interested in: