Morning Ritual 1: Washing my Face

I have entire shelves allotted to books on prayer. Some are on how to pray, others are on prayer itself, and still others are filled with actual prayers that can be prayed just by reading them. Anything from prayers of the saints to prayers for my children. From the Daily Office prayers to prayers prayed through the centuries by those who prayed. From how to pray using color to using my body as a prayer language. Of course, none of these make me a pray-er. They just make me someone who has shelves lined with books on prayer; because when it comes to praying, I’m just as inept, and maybe even more so, than the next guy or gal. In fact, if silence is prayer, which some say it is, I’m doing a pretty good job. 

However, a number of years ago, my bookshelf began filling up with yet another genre of prayer books that has become home to me. I began reading authors such as J. Philip Newell, Esther de Waal, John O’Donohue and Mary C. Earle, among others. I even did an entire year’s devotional with Kenneth McIntosh. All authors of Celtic spirituality. Up until that point, like most good Bible believing Christians, I thought Celtic spirituality was something to be avoided at all costs. After all, what comes to mind when you hear the word Celtic? Druids. Paganism. Nature worship. But what I discovered is that these Celtic people had a strong leading and yearning for the Creator of nature. And that was totally different and certainly nothing to be afraid of. 

What I also learned is that these people brought prayer into every single aspect of their daily lives. From kindling their home fires in the morning to milking the cows to a baby’s first breath. Nothing was untouched by or out of scope for prayer or their need for God in the mundane activities of life.

It didn’t take long for desire for this type of praying to rise in me and so I began with a very simple morning ritual … that of washing my face, one of the very first things I do upon rising. I filled my palms with water and three times “splashed” my face, with a declaration with each touch: 

“Glory be to the Father of Life;

To the Son of Love;

To the Spirit of Peace.”

Then raise my head to the cadence of 

“The Triune of Grace.”

I have been doing this for so long now that whether I mouth the words or not, I feel a depth of holiness upon rinsing my face. Who would have ever thought that such a mundane act could be so sacred? The Celts did. 

Yes, prayer is many things and there are many ways to accomplish and participate in it.  But to pray as the Celts brings it home to me, quite literally. It has truly become a way for me to live my ordinary moments in divine communion. And that works for me.

Just an ordinary moment.