Although this maxim had been in use more than a century, it was first explained in the early 400s. And, while it is not an official doctrine of the church, it is an observation and an understanding that is vital to a faithful life. In a nutshell, “Lex orandi …” means the “law” (lex) in which we pray shapes the law of what we believe. Or, “How we pray shapes what we believe.”

Consider two extreme versions of this.

In one setting, we have a giant auditorium with thousands of people seated in comfortable individual theater seats. The sound system, lighting and pyrotechnics deliver heart-pounding emotions from a million-dollar system run by a dozen technicians. The music plays four chords in 4:4 time with a rock band and professional singers. The lyrics are repetitive. The whole service builds up to the preacher’s message consisting of forty minutes of cherry-picked scripture and a dozen appeals for giving money to the church so that God will make you rich.

Finally, there is the one prayer after the sermon which includes more appeals for giving. Baskets are circulated during the prayer. Lights are dimmed and the band plays soft, backup lines while the spontaneous prayer booming over the sound system tugs at people’s hearts and wallets. After church, people sign up for a mission trip, a class or a social outing. They have their coffee and go home.

Half-way around the globe on a Mediterranean island, a monastery stands at the top of the mountain. The brothers have worked and prayed and worshiped there for 1600 years. Each brother owns two sets of clothes and a bible. Five times a day they gather in the chapel to pray. A few locals and tourists from the village sit in the nave. The brothers sit in the quoire. They begin chanting in Greek.

“In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to you, our God, glory to you.

Heavenly King, Comforter, the Spirit of truth,
who are present everywhere filling all things,
Treasury of good things and Giver of life, come and dwell in us.
Cleanse us of every stain, and save our souls, gracious Lord….”

The brothers are not professional singers but their voices blend like a heavenly chorus. The men have been singing together for decades. They chant the entire book of psalms every three weeks. They know the psalms, canticles and liturgies by heart. The incense and the spirit of these devoted men fill the chapel. A few of the outsiders pick it up and get a furtive look at the glory of God – just for a moment.

Everyone sits on pews with no separation between people. The prayers, scripture and chants are read from books and have been sung for centuries. Resonant chanting reverberate off the stone walls. Incense fills the sanctuary. Candle lighting and the rays of sunlight streaming through patterned-glass windows make it seem as if we had stepped into the tenth century or the eighth or the sixth.

There is no appeal for money, only an alms box at the back of the chapel for giving to the needs of the poor in the community. The purpose of the gathering is not to save souls or win more converts for Jesus, but to glorify God. The roof of the chapel needs repair. Everything looks old and worn. But the eyes, the smiles and the handshakes of the brothers tell a different story – a story of confidence in the ability of God to restore the world.

Prayer for them is praise, thanksgiving, confession, supplication and intercession to God. “When I prayed I was new,” wrote a great theologian of Christian antiquity, “but when I stopped praying I became old.” Prayer is the way to renewal and spiritual life. Prayer is aliveness to God.