Advocatus di Aboli,* my former mentor, sometime adversary, and now a very different sort of friend, was on the other end of the phone.

"Snark," do you remember when I first came down to Elsewhere to spend a week with you and Margaret?  I was standing outside, looking in the window and . . . ."

"And you looked for all the world like a Peeping Tom, except that you were arrayed in all your ecclesiastical splendor, complete with crosier, miter, and your best summer weight robe," I interrupted, chuckling as I did so.  "I believe you were our first Ecclesiastical Peeper . . . and as yet the only one . . .  though one can never be completely sure about that sort of thing."

"Snark!" the old man snapped in reply.  "Sometimes having a brief conversation with you is like having root canal surgery performed by a one-armed dentist:  it's tedious, painful and can take forever.  It's a hot June day outside, Snark.  Show your old friend some mercy!"

Advocatus' tone was crisply acidic, but with soft, slightly oaked . . . even "avuncular" undertones . . . not unlike a glass of a good white Seyval wine.  "You're quite right, your Ancientness!  In fact, if you can come down to Elsewhere this afternoon, I'll pour you a glass of Naked Toes Seyval Blanc . . . on the house.  And I will be the very soul of mercy.  Promise."

"You sound like maybe you've already had a glass or two, Snark, but I'll take you up on your offer . . . if Margaret will be there."

"Ahhhhh, the truth comes out!  You'd like a tête-à-tête with my wife would you?  Sure, Advocatus, we'll both be here, and if you get here by one o'clock, we'll serve you some nice chilled chicken salad to go with the wine."

"Sounds like a winner, Snark.  See you then."

Margaret and I were waiting for him when Advocatus walked in.  Sans his ecclesiastical accoutrements, he was sporting instead some lightweight tan linen slacks and, without being tucked in at the waist, a conservative Hawaiian shirt.  I know that's like dehydrated water, but trust me . . . as such shirts go it was conservatively tasteful.  (When Advocatus walks on the wild side, he does it in a conservative sort of way.)  Margaret, usually the more demure of the two of us . . . okay, the demure one of us . . . gave him a loud wolf whistle.  We've been married a long time, but this was the first time I'd ever heard her do that . . . didn't even know she knew how.  A few others in Elsewhere turned in Margaret's direction and, upon seeing the by now somewhat familiar face of Advocatus, gave him some appreciative applause.  And he deserved it, seeing as how he's had an exceedingly long history of often being rather rigid and stuffy.

Advocatus flushed a bit, made a brief and truncated bow to his admirers, and pulled up a chair at our table.  Susan, who'd seen him come in and knew our plans for lunch, immediately brought three chicken salads and a bottle of the promised beverage from Naked Toes, our own winery.  She bent over Advocatus, gave him a short kiss on the cheek and told him she was glad to see him.  As was his somewhat involuntary wont, Advocatus' eyes followed her, noticing particularly the undulating motion of her hips as she retreated back into the kitchen.

"You can't say we don't know how to properly welcome you, Advocatus!" chuckled Margaret, gently touching the old man's forearm. 

"Quite so," allowed a slightly flumoxed Advocatus.  "It's rather more than I expected . . . not sure I should get used to it . . . but still . . . ."

Margaret continued.  "Advocatus, Snark said when you all were on the phone, you were recalling the time you visited us here at Elsewhere.  You were standing outside the storefront window watching us.  Was there something about that day you were wanting to talk about?"

"Margaret, I don't know what I'd do without you, for you get right to the point!  You're a good, redemptive counterpoint to Snark's discursive fizziness."  Advocatus said this while casting a mirthful glance in my direction and I took it in with an appreciative laugh.  "Yes, I was wondering what was going on that morning.  When I arrived, you all were sitting around the table looking rather relaxed, your hands in your laps and, as near as I could tell from outside the storefront window, everyone had their eyes closed.  No one was speaking.  I recall that there were some Bibles and newspapers on the table. 

"Also, there was what appeared to be a brass bowl of some sort.  After maybe ten minutes, Margaret, you struck the side of the brass bowl with a small mallet.  Then, without any words being spoken, you all joined hands.  After awhile, you spoke something to the group and everyone stretched their arms and necks and began to talk with each other.  It was then that Snark noticed me looking in the window and greeted me in his own inimitable style, saying that I was an Ecclesiastical Peeping Tom.  I'm sure there's no explanation for your husband's antics, Margaret, but I'm curious about what it was I was observing around the table."

Margaret chuckled and said, "Oh yes, Advocatus.  The volunteers and paid staff alike take seriously their purpose here at Elsewhere.  We seek to be genuinely present to each person who comes here, and to let God work through us . . . whether or not God's name is ever mentioned.  That's our only agenda:  to be with the other, and to let go of any need for some specific outcome of our doing so.  To that end, we begin with a time of centering.  On the weekends, when the most customers come, we spend a bit longer doing so.  On the Saturday you came by, we had read some of the newspapers after breakfast and then associated some Biblical ideas with what we were reading.  It's a good practice:  the newspaper in one hand and the Bible in the other.  After that we spent some time in what one of our members dubbed "Colorful Prayer.  The brass bowl you saw is called a Tibetan Singing Bowl and is used in Tibetan meditation.  We use it mainly to gently signal the beginning and end of our colorful prayer."

"That sounds right, Margaret.  But 'colorful' prayer?  I think it may be safe for me to ask you what that means . . . I'm afraid Snark would have a colorful response I might not want to hear," he added with another sly grin aimed in my direction.

"Hooo!  That's probably true," exclaimed an amused Margaret.  "But, you know, his 'colorful' remarks are one of the things that I fell in love with when I first met Snark.  And . . . for the most part . . . they remain one of his endearing features.  Not all of them, mind you, but most," she added with a matching grin that she sent my way. 

(Since we're on the subject of prayer, I should probably say that Margaret's love for me is a cornerstone of my life and I daily give thanks for her.  I have always appreciated something the 14th century German mystic, Meister Eckhart, said:  "If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is 'Thank You,' it will be enough."  Thank you, God, for Margaret.)

Margaret continued.  "Advocatus, we've found that one way to center in is to use a form of contemplative prayer.  It's really pretty much a form of prayer without words.  I think the best way to explain it to you is to invite all of us to engage in a few moments of it right now.  If you're willing, I'd be happy to lead us in it."

"More than willing, Margaret," responded Advocatus.  "In fact, you've got me intrigued.  How do we begin?"

"Well, as with much that we do here, Advocatus, we begin with theology.  Prayer is an act of relationship with the Holy.  Prayer of whatever sort implies a particular understanding of the God with whom we are relating . . . although I'm afraid this understanding is often not made conscious in the mind of those who pray. **  For this form of prayer, we don't imagine God as a Supreme Being so much as we imagine God as being like the air.  As odd as that may first seem, it's actually quite Biblical.  In both Hebrew and Greek, the languages of the Jewish and Christian Bibles, there is a word that can mean 'air,' 'wind,' 'breath,' and 'spirit.'  The Hebrew word is 'ruach' and the Greek is 'pneuma.' 

"When we spend time in 'colorful prayer,' we imagine God being like the air in the room.  There isn't anywhere in the room where the air isn't; we are in the air, and when we breathe, the air is in us.  Furthermore, it doesn't matter who is sitting in the room:  the air is equally available to each and all.  It doesn't play favorites or require anything of anyone, except that they receive the air through the act of breathing.  And, of course, if you don't receive the air . . . well, then, you're dead!  So you can see how this notion of God is both gracious and life-giving.  This is very much the metaphor for God in the 'perennial tradition' called mysticism.  It's panentheistic:  God is in all things . . . and all things are in God.  It's really quite traditional:  Paul, in Acts 17:28 says of God, 'in Him we live and move and have our being.'"

"You know, Margaret," Advocatus replied, "I've known for many years those Hebrew and Greek words, but I never thought about them in connection with prayer.  You've piqued my interest.  Go on!"

Margaret smiled at Advocatus.  "I'm glad I may be able to share a new thing with you, Advocatus!  Once we imagine God in this way, we next ask ourselves what it is that we are needing.  Is it to be reassured, to be peaceful, to be given courage, to forgive and be reconciled, to be stirred up to action, to be healed in body/mind/spirit?  Whatever it is that we need, we ask God to provide it to us.  And we then give what we are seeking a specific color.  For the sake of my teaching this prayer today, let's pretend that what we each need is the same thing:  the experience of God's deep peace in the midst of our sometimes hectic lives.  Advocatus, since you're our guest, what color would you like to assign to God's peace?"

"Oh my . . . well, uh . . . I'm not sure . . . I mean, I never thought of doing such a thing.  I may have to think a lot about this.  I want to get it right."

"There's no such thing as getting it 'right' or 'wrong,' Advocatus," I interjected with a smile and what I hoped was a visible twinkle in my eye.  "You're not making a choice for the ages.  It's just for this time of prayer.  You can change it later today if you want.  Go ahead, old friend:  choose any color at all.  God won't care which one it is."

"Oh . . . well then . . . yellow . . . yes, a deep rich yellow . . . sort of like the color of daffodils.  I hope that's an okay color?"

"It will do splendidly, Advocatus!" Margaret smiled at him.  "So, for this sort of prayer we'll take our time.  It's not something to rush through the way people do when they 'say their prayers.'  Instead, we'll sort of 'listen our prayer,' if that makes any sense." 

"Up until now I've been with you, Margaret.  I get it that we all might do well to slow down our prayers a bit . . . you know . . . so that we don't approach the Almighty as though we've got a pot on the stove we've got to get to before it boils over, so we'll just rush through this prayer thing.  I think I'm guilty of doing that myself . . . particularly in public worship where I lead worshippers in 'saying' prayers.  But I'm not sure what you mean by 'listening' our prayer."

"I suppose it is confusing, Advocatus.  Let me see if this helps.  So often in our prayers, we can hardly wait to tell God what's on our mind, as though God doesn't know already!  (Of course, I'll grant you, we may need to put words to what is on our hearts in order for us to understand ourselves.)  We tell God what we need, what our aches are, what troubles us, who we want God to heal or motivate or bless.  We aim our words at God like an assault rifle on full automatic.  Poor God! 

"And poor us!  For we miss a lot when we don't give God a chance to get a word in edgewise.  We're so busy talking at God . . . filling the silence with our verbiage . . . that we don't listen to God.  I suspect we might be allergic to the silence in which we might experience God's reply . . . a reply that often comes as an awareness of Presence.  So we need, I think, to be still as part of our praying.  We need to listen . . . to take a receptive stance toward God . . . to experience God's nearness and presence.  So that's why I like to call it 'listening our prayers.'"

"Wow . . . you've given me a lot to think about, Margaret.  But what you just said does clarify for me what you mean."  Then the old man turned toward me and, with an impish crinkle about his eyes, said, "Snark, unaccountably you've been awfully quiet as Margaret and I have been talking.  That's hardly typical for the wordy guy I know you to be!  You okay?"

"Actually, Advocatus, I'm doing very well, thanks!  I'm enjoying listening to Margaret and you.  As it happens, I think your openness and asking Margaret to clarify her meanings is helping me as well.  I've been 'listening' my colorful prayers for some while now.  You might be surprised how wonderful the silence can be . . . I know I am!  Sometime, when you've got 45 minutes or so, I'll give you a brief synopsis about how spending time in silence has made me a man of fewer words!"

"Snark, you're incorrigible!" said our ancient guest.

"Advocatus, you're just stating the obvious!" laughed Margaret as she refilled  everyone's glass with more Seyval Blanc. 

"Yeah, Margaret:  that's one of my finely honed skills!" returned Advocatus.  "But now that we've established that this form of 'colorful prayer' works best when we take it slow and have the approach of a listener, what happens next?"

"Keeping us on track may be another of your skills, Advocatus!  Thanks.  After we've assigned a color to that for which we are praying, we become listeners.  To do so, we just sit quietly and relax.  We might follow our breathing for awhile, noticing how the air comes in cool . . . and is expelled slightly warmer.  We might notice that, gradually, our breathing becomes deeper and slower . . . that instead of the breath being in the top of our lungs and our chest going up and down with our breathing . . . now it's becoming a fuller inhalation, and our tummies move out when we take our breath . . . and in when we exhale.  This 'diaphragmatic' or 'belly breathing' is associated with a state of relaxation and well-being.  We pay attention to our breathing so that we can adopt the relaxed attentiveness of a listener." 

"Ah!  So we pay attention to our own ruach or pneuma!  Is that like letting God breathe on us or through us . . .
like the old hymn says?" ***

"Correct, Advocatus!  You're a quick study . . . and I like how you're tying all this together with other things!" said Margaret.

"Once we've adopted the stance of a listener, we get colorful.  If God is like the air in the room, and if God's peace is a deep, rich yellow color . . . then, as we sit here . . . perhaps with our eyes closed if that's comfortable . . . we gently breathe in and out at our own pace.  Now imagine that the air up at the ceiling has turned that rich, yellow color.  It always is touching the ceiling, but extending down about two feet now, the air in the room is completely transparent, but has become a deep, rich yellow . . . like looking through a transparent stained glass window of the same color.

"As we continue to sit here, imagine the rest of the air in the room slowly turning the same color.  You could imagine that it's now that yellow color of God's peace from the ceiling down half-way to the floor.  In your imagination you might feel it gently brush against your hair as it . . . now . . . moves on down until it touches the floor . . . and so you briefly lift your feet up and rest them again on the floor.  The air in the room . . . wall-to-wall and ceiling-to-floor . . . has now turned the deep, rich yellow color of God's peace.  That peace has descended on us.  You are now fully in this part of God . . . God's peace.  It is in this peace of God that we are now living, and moving, and having your being.  Take a moment to just let that thought in . . . let it move from your head to your heart.  Really let that in:  you are in God's peace!

"Now become aware of your breathing.  And at some point when you inhale, imagine you are inhaling the deep, rich, yellow-colored air of God's peace.  This is then taken to every cell of your body . . . all 50 trillion of them.  God's peace is now in you . . . deeply within you . . . surrounding all of you outside and inside . . . even the synapses in your brain (the tiny space betwen the ends of the neurons) glow with the rich, deep yellow of God's peace.  Again, take a moment just to let that thought in . . . not only are you in God's peace . . . God's peace is now in you!"

The three of us sat at our table for a few moments . . . experiencing God's peace in perhaps a new way . . . and then Margaret continued.

"If you should wish to do so, you could end your time of colorful prayer right here.  But you could also wonder if there may be any other persons who would need, desire, or benefit from the experience you are having right now.  If so, you can pray for them now in a colorful way . . . and here's how.

"If the person you're praying for is one you'd feel comfortable sitting beside, then imagine that person here with you right now.  They, too, are fully in the rich, deep yellow air of God's peace.  And as they breathe, God's peace is fully entering into them.  If the person you're praying for is someone you'd be reluctant to be in close proximity to . . . perhaps even an enemy . . . you can simply imagine them wherever they may be, surrounded by the rich, deep yellow of God's peace . . . and breathing the colored air of that peace into them.  In this way, we can practice "intercessory" prayer in a colorful sort of way.

"So now . . . or in a few moments . . . whenever you are ready to conclude your time of prayer, you can, if you wish, silently or out loud say 'Thank you!' . . . open your eyes, give yourself a good stretch . . . and go on with your day.  You will do so as a person who has been changed by your experience.  So the day you go on with will be different too."

We sat there a while longer and, one by one, we each "came back into the room."  And, just as Margaret had implied, God came back with us too . . . or, more precisely, our awareness of God's ongoing and eternal nearness and presence came with us as well.  It was a longish time before any of us spoke.  Advocatus broke the silence.

He wiped a tear from his cheek.  Then he reached for Margaret's hand and mine.  Giving us each a gentle squeeze and looking us in the eyes, he simply said in a rather hushed voice, "Thank you both!  Thanks be to God!  This has been a wonderful time.  You have fed me . . . body and soul.  Even though I have miles to go before I sleep and have to leave, could we do this again?  Could we talk more about prayer?  It'll be my treat for lunch whenever we do!"

We all agreed to do that and bade our friend goodbye.  As Margaret and I took our empty plates back to the kitchen, she said to me, "That was a really fine time together!  I hope Advocatus will be back soon."  Susan looked up from drying some dishes by the sink and said, "Me too!"


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*  To learn more about Advocatus di Aboli, Snark, Margaret, Susan, Naked Toes Winery, and the coffeehouse called Elsewhere, check out our satirical free e-book LAST SUPPER RED. It's available for free download.  ~ Editors

**   This is particularly true when it comes to public worship.  Snark has agreed to write a brief essay on this topic in the near future.  We know we can count on him doing so . . . except for him being brief.  Never gonna happen.  ~ Editors

***  "Breathe on me breath of God" is probably the hymn Advocatus was referring to.  It's lyrics and tune can be found here.

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