The Prayer Request Book in St. Paul the Apostle Church

       

        Within the main space of the church just across the street from our campus, St. Paul the Apostle Roman Catholic Church, there is a nondescript black binder resting on a tiny table near a small side altar and a large black crucifix. The church is open daily to the public as a landmark in New York City, not just for Mass and other church functions, but to the common street visitor who may decide to enter and view the various artwork and structural components that the church is quite simply teeming with. Any of those lavish artifacts could be a representation of religion in the city. However, this book is neither of those things in the slightest as there is nothing structurally remarkable about a binder from staples and it does not fit any conventional definition of art; nonetheless it succeeds in illustrating the joining and lasting spiritual effects of prayer.

The binder is a prayer request book, and anyone with an intention in need of meditative prayer may fill out a form within the binder and know that it will reach the ears and hearts of the open to all prayer group that meets on Thursday nights at the church. The binder is a freeing experience and not limited to members of the church or even to Catholics in the area. Anyone can drop by and lighten the load on their mind or in their heart by writing in a prayer—none too big or too small. The requests can be as detailed or vague as to suit one’s need and desires and it is not uncommon for the requests, especially the more serious ones, to be completely anonymous. Some are even in other languages, possibly written by travelers passing through the city praying for a safe trip home. 

My grandmother has been a member of this church for as long as I can remember, writing in her own intentions sometimes quite heartfelt ones asking for guidance in mourning her siblings or more mundane, simply giving thanks to God and asking him look after her and her family. And much of the entries reveal the same. Some are painful to read, lamenting a loss in the family while some can be funny, like a small child praying they receive everything on their Christmas list. When I was younger, the prayer book was a big part of my life—I’d sometimes look through it hoping to understand the parishioners around me and I would write my own thoughts down always signing my name. 

In many of the readings covered in the readings this semester we have seen a call to prayer and meditation upon the issues that press our lives and cause human suffering. Often, the easiest way to set the mind straight, whether in good spirits or bad, is to give that mental contemplation up to God. That is exactly the purpose of this book. In readings like Moxley Rouse’s Engaged Surrender or Baldwin’s Go Tell it on the Mountain, prayer groups are highlighted as necessary for building relationships to the divine and to understanding ones place in the world. It is at a prayer group that John experiences his powerful. The prayer request book in St. Paul’s is like a modern twist on that, perfect for the New Yorker on the go with a need for spiritual guidance and ease.