A Memory Of Prayer

And what was my experience of prayer? In a small side chapel in the vast interior of the Church at St. John's University stood the only sacred image other than the crucifix: a small wooden statue from ninth century Byzantium of the Blessed Virgin holding Baby Jesus, whose right hand is raised in blessing. I prayed silently, fervently before an image of the holiness present everywhere and always in this world of flesh and spirit: I knelt in wonder at the Mystery of Incarnation. It was just my lone human self touched by Grace descending as my prayer ascended.