Prayer Without a Voice

We are commanded to revere and honor the same one — persuaded that he is Word, Savior, and Leader, and through him the Father — not on set days, as some others do, but doing it continually, through our whole life, and in every way. Certainly the chosen race, counted righteous by the command, says, “Seven times a day I have praised you.” So it is not merely in a particular place, or a chosen temple, or at certain festivals and on appointed days, but through his whole life and in every place — even if he is alone by himself, and wherever he has with him any who have practiced the same faith — that the one who truly knows honors God; that is, he acknowledges his gratitude for the knowledge of how to live. [a]

And if the presence of a good man always improves the one who keeps company with him, by the respect and reverence he inspires, how much more does the man who is never out of conversation with God — by knowledge, by his life, by thanksgiving — grow at every step beyond himself in every respect: in conduct, in words, in disposition? Such a man is persuaded that God is always beside him. He does not suppose that God is shut up in certain limited places, so that, imagining he is at times without him, he might let himself go night and day. Holding festival, then, all our life long, persuaded that God is altogether present on every side, we work our fields with praise, we sail the sea singing hymns, and in all the rest of our way of life we conduct ourselves by rule. The one who truly knows, then, is very closely allied to God, at once dignified and cheerful — dignified because his soul is bent toward the Divine, cheerful because he takes account of the good things God has given to human life.

The excellence of knowledge is plainly set out by the prophet when he says, “Teach me kindness and discipline and knowledge,” building the words up step by step to the height of perfection.

He, then, is the truly kingly man; he is the holy high priest of God. This is observed even now among the shrewdest of the foreign peoples, who advance the priestly class to royal power. So he never surrenders himself to the mob that rules supreme over the theaters, and gives no admittance, even in a dream, to the things spoken and done and seen there for the sake of luring on pleasure — not to the pleasures of sight, then, and not to the various pleasures found in other enjoyments: costly incense and scents that bewitch the nostrils, or elaborate dishes and indulgence in different wines that trap the palate, or fragrant bunches of many flowers that make the soul soft through the senses. But always tracing the dignified enjoyment of all things up to God, he offers the firstfruits of food and drink and perfumed oil to the Giver of all, acknowledging his thanks in the gift and in the use of them, through the Word given to him. He rarely goes to the dinner parties of all and sundry, unless word reaches him that the gathering will be friendly and harmonious, and that draws him.

For he is convinced that God knows and perceives everything — not words only, but thought as well. Even our own hearing, which works through the body’s channels, gets its grasp of things not by bodily power but by a perception belonging to the soul, and by the intelligence that tells one meaningful sound from another. God, then, does not have a human shape in order to hear, and does not need senses, as the Stoics have decided: “Hearing and sight above all; for otherwise he could never apprehend anything.” But the responsiveness of the air, and the intensely keen perception of the angels, and the power that reaches the soul’s own awareness, know all things at the moment of thought, by a power beyond words and without any hearing by the senses. And should anyone say that the voice does not reach God but is rolled downward in the air, still the thoughts of the holy ones cut through not the air only but the whole world. And the divine power, with the speed of light, sees through the whole soul. Well then — do our acts of will not also speak to God, uttering their own voice? Are they not carried to him by conscience? And what voice is he to wait for, who according to his purpose knows the chosen already, even before a man is born, and knows what is to be as already existing? Does the light of his power not shine down to the very bottom of the whole soul? It is “the lamp of knowledge,” as the Scripture says, searching “the inner rooms.” God is all ear and all eye, if we may be permitted to speak that way.

In general, then, an unworthy opinion of God preserves no reverence — not in hymns, not in discourses, not in writings, not in teachings — but turns them aside to low and unseemly ideas and notions. So the praise of the crowd differs in nothing from its blame, since they do not know the truth. Now the objects of our desires and our longings — in a word, of the mind’s impulses — are what prayers are about. No man wants a drink; he wants to drink what is drinkable. No man wants an inheritance; he wants to inherit. In the same way no man wants knowledge; he wants to know. Nor does he want a good government, but to take part in governing. What our prayers are about, then, is what our requests are about, and what our requests are about is what we desire. Prayer and desire follow in order, with a view to possessing the blessings and advantages that are offered. The one who truly knows — who is such by actual possession of knowledge — makes his prayer and his request for the truly good things, the ones that belong to the soul; and he prays while also contributing his own effort toward the settled habit of goodness, so that he may no longer have good things as so many lessons belonging to him, but may be good.

That is why prayer is a duty most of all for such men. They know the Divine rightly, and have the moral excellence that suits him; they know what things are really good, and what should be asked for, and when, and how, in each particular case. It is the utmost stupidity to ask of those who are no gods as if they were gods, or to ask for things that do no good, begging evils for oneself under the appearance of good things. So, as is right, since there is only one good God, it is we and the angels who pray that some good things be given from him alone, and that others remain. But not in the same way; for it is not the same thing to pray that a gift may stay and to work at obtaining it for the first time. Turning evils aside is one kind of prayer. But such prayer is never to be used to injure anyone — except that the one who truly knows, giving his attention to righteousness, may make use of this petition in the case of those who are past feeling.

Prayer, then — to speak more boldly — is conversation with God. Even if we whisper without opening our lips, and speak in silence, we still cry out inwardly; for God hears the whole inward conversation, continually. That is also why we raise the head and lift the hands toward heaven, and set the feet in motion at the closing words of the prayer, following the eagerness of the spirit as it strains toward what the mind grasps. We try to draw the body up from the earth along with the words, and, raising the soul aloft, winged with longing for better things, we force it to advance toward the region of holiness, greatly despising the chain of the flesh. For we know very well that the one who truly knows willingly steps over the whole world, as the Jews certainly stepped over Egypt, showing above all that he means to be as near to God as he can. Now if some assign definite hours to prayer — the third, say, and the sixth and the ninth — still the one who truly knows prays through his whole life, striving by prayer to be in fellowship with God. And, in short, having reached that, he leaves behind everything that is of no service to him, since he has now received the perfection of the man who acts by love. But the dividing of the hours into three parts, honored with as many prayers, is known to those who know the blessed triad of the holy dwellings.

Having got this far, I recall the teachings of certain people outside the rule — the followers of the sect of Prodicus — who say there is no need to pray at all. So that they may not be puffed up with conceit about this godless wisdom of theirs, as if it were something new, let them learn that the philosophers called Cyrenaics embraced it before them. Still, the unholy knowledge of those who are falsely called knowers will be refuted at the proper time; the attack on them will not be brief, and bringing it into this commentary would break off the argument in hand. What we are showing here is that the only man who is truly holy and reverent is the one who truly knows according to the rule of the church — and that to him alone is granted the petition made in accordance with the will of God, when he asks and when he thinks. For as God can do all that he wishes, so the one who truly knows receives all that he asks. For God knows, without exception, who is and who is not worthy of good things, and so gives each what suits him. That is why he will not give to those who are unworthy, though they ask often, but will give to those who are worthy. And petition is not superfluous, even though good things are given without being claimed.

Now thanksgiving, and request for the conversion of our neighbors, is the work of the one who truly knows. So the Lord too prayed, giving thanks for the completing of his ministry and praying that as many as possible might come to knowledge — so that in the saved, by salvation, through knowledge, God might be glorified, and the one who alone is good and alone is Savior might be acknowledged through the Son, from age to age. But faith that one will receive is also a kind of prayer, laid up in store by one who truly knows.

But if any occasion of conversation with God becomes prayer, then no opportunity of approaching God ought to be let slip. Without doubt the holiness of the one who truly knows, joined to God’s blessed providence, displays the perfect goodness of God in a willing confession. For the holiness of such a man, and the answering goodwill of the friend of God, are a kind of matching motion of providence. God is not good unwillingly, the way fire is warming; in him the imparting of good things is willing, even if he receives the request beforehand. Nor will the one who is saved be saved against his will, for he is not a lifeless thing; above all he will hurry toward salvation willingly and by his own free choice. That is why a man received the commandments — so that he might set himself in motion toward whatever he wished, among the things to be chosen and the things to be avoided. So God does not do good by necessity, but out of his own free choice benefits those who turn to him of their own accord. For the providence that reaches us from God is not the service of a servant, the kind that goes up from inferiors to superiors. It is out of pity for our weakness that the continual arrangements of providence work — like the care of shepherds toward sheep, and of a king toward his subjects — while we for our part conduct ourselves obediently toward those set over us, who take the management of us as appointed, in keeping with the commission from God with which they are invested. So those who render the freest and most kingly service, the service that comes of a reverent mind and of knowledge, are servants and attendants of the Divine. Every place, then, and every time in which we entertain the thought of God is in reality holy.

When, then, a man who chooses what is right and is at the same time thankful in heart makes his request in prayer, he contributes something toward getting it, gladly taking hold in prayer of the thing he wants. For when the Giver of good things perceives that we are ready to receive, all good things follow at once upon the conceiving of them. Certainly in prayer a man’s character is sifted, to see how it stands toward duty. But if voice and speech are given us for the sake of understanding, how can God fail to hear the soul itself, and the mind, when soul certainly hears soul and mind hears mind? God, then, does not wait for talkative tongues, as men wait for interpreters. He knows the thoughts of all absolutely; and what the voice makes plain to us, our thought — which even before the creation he knew would come into our mind — speaks to God. Prayer, then, may be uttered without the voice, by gathering the whole spiritual nature inward upon expression by the mind, in undistracted turning toward God.

And since the dawn is an image of the day of birth, and from that point the light that first shone out of the darkness increases, a day of the knowledge of truth has likewise dawned on those wrapped in darkness. Matching the manner of the sun’s rising, prayers are made looking toward the sunrise in the east. That is also why the most ancient temples looked toward the west, so that people standing before the images would be taught to turn to the east. “Let my prayer be set straight before you like incense, the lifting of my hands like the evening sacrifice,” say the Psalms.

In the case of wicked men, then, prayer is most harmful — not to others only, but to themselves as well. If they should ask and receive what they call pieces of good fortune, the things injure them once they have them, since they do not know how to use them. For they pray to possess what they do not have, and they ask for things that seem good and are not. But the one who truly knows will ask that the things he has may stay, and that he may be fitted for what is going to happen, and that the things he is to receive may be everlasting. And the things that are really good, the things that concern the soul, he prays may belong to him and remain with him. And so he does not desire anything that is absent, being content with what is present; for he lacks none of the good things that properly belong to him, being already sufficient for himself through divine grace and knowledge. And having become sufficient in himself, he stands in need of nothing else. But knowing the sovereign will, and possessing as soon as he prays, brought into close contact with the almighty power, and earnestly longing to be spiritual, through boundless love he is united to the Spirit.

So he is great-hearted. Through knowledge he possesses what is most precious of all, the best of all. He is quick to apply himself to contemplation, and he keeps in his soul the lasting energy of the things he contemplates — that is, the clear-sighted keenness of knowledge. And this power he strains every nerve to acquire: by getting command of all the influences that make war on the mind; by applying himself to contemplation without a break; by training himself in abstinence from pleasures and in right conduct in what he does. And besides all that, being furnished with great experience both in study and in life, he has freedom of speech — not the power of a babbling tongue, but a power that uses plain words, and that neither for favor nor for fear conceals anything of what may worthily be said at the fitting moment, when it is highly necessary to say it. Having received what concerns God from the mystic choir of the truth itself, he uses language that urges the greatness of virtue as its worth deserves, and shows its results with an inspired lifting up of prayer, being joined, as far as he can be, with the things the mind and the spirit reach.

So he is always mild and gentle, approachable, easy to speak with, patient, grateful, furnished with a good conscience. Such a man is rigid — not only so that he cannot be corrupted, but so that he cannot be tempted. He never exposes his soul to being brought under, or captured, by Pleasure and Pain. If the Word who is Judge calls, he has grown unbending; he does not give an inch to the passions, but walks without swerving where justice tells him to go, thoroughly persuaded that all things are managed exceedingly well, and that progress toward what is better goes on in souls that have chosen virtue, until they come to the Good itself, to the Father’s forecourt, so to speak, close to the great High Priest. Such is our man who truly knows: faithful, persuaded that the affairs of the universe are managed in the best way. Above all, he is well pleased with everything that happens. Reasonably, then, he asks for none of the things in life required for necessary use, being persuaded that God, who knows all things, supplies good men with whatever is for their benefit, even when they do not ask. For my view is this: as everything is supplied to a craftsman according to the rules of his craft, and to a Gentile in a Gentile way, so to the one who truly knows everything is supplied in the way of knowledge. The man who turns from among the nations will ask for faith; the man who climbs toward knowledge will ask for the perfecting of love; and the one who truly knows, who has reached the summit, will pray that contemplation may grow and stay with him, as an ordinary man prays for continual good health.

Indeed, he will pray that he may never fall away from virtue, giving his most strenuous help toward becoming incapable of error. For he knows that some of the angels, through carelessness, were hurled down to the earth, not having yet quite reached the state of oneness by pulling themselves free of the leaning toward twoness. But the man who has trained himself from this point up to the summit of knowledge and the elevated height of the perfect man — everything to do with time and place helps him on, now that he has made it his choice to live without error, and submits himself to training so as to reach a knowledge that stands firm on every side. But in those who still have a heavy corner leaning downward, even the part that has been lifted up by faith is dragged down. In the man, then, who has acquired by the training of knowledge a virtue that cannot be lost, habit becomes nature. And just as weight is in a stone, so the knowledge of such a man is incapable of being lost. It is brought to be incapable of loss not apart from him, but through the exercise of will, and by the force of reasoning and knowledge and providence. Through care it becomes incapable of being lost. He will use caution so as to avoid sinning, and good judgment so as not to lose virtue. Now knowledge seems to produce this good judgment, by teaching a man to see the things that can contribute to virtue’s staying in place. The highest thing, then, is the knowledge of God, and by it virtue is so kept that it cannot be lost. And the man who knows God is holy and reverent. So it has been demonstrated by us that the only reverent man is the one who truly knows.

He rejoices in the good things that are present, and is glad about the ones promised as if they were already present. For they do not escape his notice as though they were still absent, since he knows in advance what sort they are. Being persuaded by knowledge how each future thing will be, he possesses it. For want and lack are measured against what belongs to a man. If, then, he possesses wisdom, and wisdom is a divine thing, the man who shares in what has no want will himself have no want. For the imparting of wisdom does not happen by an activity and a receptivity that start and stop each other, or by anything being taken away or becoming defective. Activity is therefore shown to be undiminished in the act of sharing. So our man who truly knows possesses all good things, as far as that is possible — but not in the same way as to number; otherwise he would be incapable of changing his place through the inspired stages of advance and the acts of administration that are due to him.

God helps such a man, honoring him with closer oversight. For were not all things made for the sake of good men — for their possession and their advantage, or rather for their salvation? He will not, then, deprive of the things that exist for the sake of virtue the very men for whose sake they were created. Plainly, in honor of their excellent nature and their holy choice, he breathes strength into those who have chosen a good life for the rest of their salvation, urging some on and helping others who have become worthy by themselves. For every good is capable of being produced in the one who truly knows, if indeed it is his aim to know and to do everything intelligently. And as a physician supplies health to those who work with him toward health, so God supplies eternal salvation to those who work with him toward knowledge and good conduct. And since what the commandments enjoin is in our own power, along with the performing of them, the promise is brought to completion.

And what the Greeks say next seems to me excellently put. An athlete of no small reputation among the men of old had for a long time put his body through thorough training in order to gain a man’s full strength. On going up to the Olympic games, he cast his eye on the statue of the Zeus of Pisa and said, “Zeus, if I have made all the preparations for the contest that were required, come, give me the victory, as is right.” For so it is with the one who truly knows. When he has blamelessly and with a good conscience carried out everything that depends on him — in learning, in training, in doing good, in pleasing God — the whole works together to carry salvation on to completion. From us, then, are demanded the things that are in our own power; and of the things that belong to us, both present and absent, the choice, the desire, the possession, the use, and the keeping.

That is also why the man who holds conversation with God must have his soul spotless and stainlessly pure, having made himself perfectly good; that is essential. It also becomes him to make all his prayers gently, in company with good men. For it is a dangerous thing to take part in other people’s sins. So the one who truly knows will pray together with those who have believed more recently, in the matters where it is their duty to act together. And his whole life is a holy festival. His sacrifices are prayers, and praises, and readings of the Scriptures before meals, and psalms and hymns during meals and before bed, and prayers again during the night. By these he unites himself to the divine choir, out of a continual recollection, engaged in a contemplation that has everlasting remembrance.

And what of it? Does he not also know the other kind of sacrifice, the one that consists in giving both teachings and money to those in need? Certainly he does. But he does not use wordy prayer with his mouth, having learned to ask of the Lord what is needed. In every place, therefore, he will pray — but not openly and visibly to the crowd. While walking, while in conversation, while silent, while reading and while at work according to reason, in every mood he prays. If he only forms the thought in the secret chamber of his soul, and calls on the Father “with groans that cannot be put into words,” God is near, and is at his side while he is still speaking. And since there are only three ends of all action, he does everything for its excellence and its usefulness; but doing anything for the sake of pleasure he leaves to those who pursue the common life.