Praying the Paper

It is my normal morning routine. I get up—first in a family of “non-morning people,” go downstairs, walk outside and get the paper, walk in, feed the cat, get some coffee and then read the newspaper. The whole paper. Granted there are some mornings that it doesn’t take that long—but I read the whole paper—the news, the business section, the obituaries, “Dear Abby.” There is a ritual to the reading. I do a quick review of the front page, then the front page of each section. Then beginning with Section A I read. Then I move to section B (after which I usually get another cup of coffee) then to the sports, and then, and only then to the comics. (There is also a ritual order of reading them too, but that is another story!)

I often will finish by pulling out my Blackberry and checking the headlines of the New York Times, the Washington Post. Several times a day I know that I will make my way back to the news. Yes, I am addicted. ( “Hi. My name is Don and I am a news-aholic!” “Hi Don!”) I do have this fear that something has happened in some remote South Abughasistan in the last 15 minutes that I don’t know about.

For the longest time I really felt bad about that. I know people who get up early in the morning and run, or play racquetball, or do yoga, or meditation. But then I came across a short little reflection on, of all places, the website of Providence Baptist Church. I had typed it in, but really hadn’t paid much attention to it. But one morning, there is was.

I've never been very good at feasting on the daily newspaper. It turns bitter in my mouth. And yet, this is my world. This face of suffering I must embrace as a part of my responsibility. Part of the feast is becoming aware of the world that is mine. Part of the feast is owning this broken world as my own brokenness. I clasp the newspaper to my heart and ask once again in the stillness of the night, "What are we doing to the image of God in one another?"

Macrina Wiederkehr

A Tree Full of Angels

And it hit me. That is what I do in the morning. Reading the newspaper is a ritual for me—a spiritual ritual. It is my devotional time, no less than when I spend time reading St. Luke, or II Kings, or Ephesians. Reading the paper is not just about finding out what has happened in the world, it is finding out what is happening in God’s world. At times it is a time of praise—of celebrating those moments when God’s creation is revealed—a new planet discovered, the sequencing of the human genome/ At other times it is confession—another murder, another war, another person lacking the very necessities of life--those things that I just take for granted, another incident of people spewing forth hatred in word and deed just to get their way.. There is a time of intercession, as I read the names in the obituaries, as I read of a family who has lost their home to a fire, for countries devastated by war, famine, total inhumanity.

If that were all that went on, then it would be fine. Of course, if that were all prayer was it would be a lot easier too! But there is that time in prayer, and in reading the paper, when I just have to listen, to see what it is that God is calling on me to do. Is this a concern that needs to make it into a sermon? Is this worth a letter to the editor, a call to a legislator? Is this just another rant and rave around the house? (Anita especially dislikes those, although she is often amused by them!)

Reading the paper is a ritual. That is a religious word that means how we do things, how we open ourselves up allowing God to perhaps break through and speak. One of mine is reading the paper, listening to the news, discovering my part in the brokenness of the world, my own brokenness. It is only then that the healing of God can flow. And surprisingly, it might just flow over, to and through me.

So read the paper! Let God speak to you through the Front Page