Finding grace in my little black book.

In savoring ancient prayers that countless others have prayed before us, we can find solace and learn more about who we are before God.

In my community of sisters we use a little black book. It contains the names and, in a manner of speaking, the addresses of some people we want to get to know better. It is called A Manual of Prayers. Whoever chose its title understood well that hard work. Saint Teresa of Avila compared the beginning labor of prayer to carrying water from a well.

Many of the prayers included in the manual are litanies. Perhaps the most popular and well-known is the Litany of the Saints. Prayed during the Easter Vigil, this litany has also long been a part of the rite of ordination and now is included in the rite of religious profession. Recently one of our temporary professed sisters made her final profession of vows. During the Mass the litany was sung in Spanish, the music and words a majestic reminder of our long history of holy people.

This litany reminds us that these same holy people are still present to us, doing what they do best--loving us as they share in God's infinite love. Set in the context of a final-commitment ritual, this litany gives voice to our hope that we, like them, will be faithful to the end. Perhaps some day the litany will also become a part of weddings, as many of the saints like my own patron, Saint Louis, were married.

Occasionally I attend Mass on a weekday evening at a church a few blocks from the convent. If I time it right, I can pray the Rosary and the Litany of the Blessed Mother with the people who are also present. In the silence of the church, the words pour out like water quietly lapping. I find the refrains help to shut off interior noise I bring in.

My presence signifies no pre-Vatican II nostalgia for these prayers; I became Catholic just months after the council ended. From my reading I have discovered that the short phrases of this litany reflect a spirituality that dates back to 14th-century England. During that time one of the greatest masters of the spiritual life wrote The Cloud of Unknowing. The unknown author's purpose in writing was to instruct people in the ways of contemplative prayer. Not one to mince words, he admonished his reader to be brief in prayer. "We must pray, then, with all the intensity of our being in the height and depth and length and breadth. And not with many words but in a little word of one syllable." For, he maintained, such a word has the power to pierce the heavens.

Another name for this power of brevity is poetry. Great poetry grows out of powerful symbols. One of my favorites in this litany is the "Ark of the Covenant," which has deep roots in scripture. This prayer is both Mary's praise and our nourishment. We need poetry as well as prayer.

Another beautiful prayer is "The Litany Of The Blessed Sacrament." In it we are given words to express the inexpressible. Indeed, what does one say about God present in our midst? While some titles may not suit everyone's taste, one can find at least a beginning in such expressions as "Word made flesh," "mystery of faith," or "tremendous and life-giving sacrament."

Commentators on society tell us that many people have lost a sense of mystery. Perhaps we have just mislaid the words to express the mystery of who we are as individuals as well as a community. In so doing we have mislaid our human attempts to express in words the ultimate mystery of God.

Saint Teresa understood that after the hard, manual work of carrying water, God often sends us the rain we need. In this process, we can feel alone and powerless. Yet we do not journey in isolation. We can savor the same prayers countless others have found solace in praying. We, like them, can learn what is the most important about who we are before God. Let the prayers that begin, "Lord, have mercy," "Christ have mercy," "Lord have mercy" introduce you to the hush of rain in a quiet heart.

By SISTER LOU ELLA HICKMAN, I.W.B.S., a librarian and co-author of Catechizing with Liturgical Symbols (Resource Publications, 1997).