A time to relearn an ancient form of prayer?

Be still and know that I am God.

--Psalm 46:10

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Theologians often describe prayer as a dialogue, but for some people it’s more of a monologue. The supplicant makes requests or recites an established prayer.

But in a practice known as contemplative prayer, the opposite is the case.

As Sister Thomas Bernard MacConnell puts it, the aim is to “listen” attentively, not just with the ears, but with the eyes, heart and soul. Very quietly, practitioners of contemplative prayer try to put themselves in the presence of God and wait to see what he might do or inspire, said MacConnell, 80, a veteran teacher of contemplative prayer. She also is founder of the Spirituality Center on the campus of Mount St. Mary’s College in Los Angeles.

“It’s not so much a mind thing as it is a heart thing,” she said.

Judy Peace, a spiritual director, described contemplative prayer another way: “A long, loving look at the real. Gazing at the one who is gazing at you.”

This Christmas season -- when 2 billion Christians worldwide celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ -- may well be the time to become acquainted with this ancient form of prayer, experts suggest.

“Jesus is our model for contemplative prayer,” MacConnell said, noting how he often withdrew from crowds to pray in solitude.

A Christmas contemplative would bring to the season “a profound wonder and awe at what has happened: that God has chosen to live with us -- as us,” MacConnell said joyfully, a twinkle in her eye despite a bad cold.

Noting Gospel accounts of the Nativity, she added, “Notice, notice how often the word ‘Behold’ comes up. That’s like an invitation to us: ‘Look and see! Look at what’s right in front of you: God becoming human.’

“It’s not to say that this God was never with us before that, because we have a whole Hebraic tradition of God’s presence. But, to come as a human -- my goodness, that’s an awesome thing.”

Sometimes also called “interior prayer,” contemplative prayer is distinguished “somewhat” from meditative prayer, MacConnell said.

“In meditation, the mind part of us is very active,” she said. “We read, and we reflect and we compare and all that. But in contemplation that’s much diminished.”

And although other forms of prayer might seem best suited for groups in houses of worship, contemplative prayer is private. It can be done sitting quietly or during the hustle and bustle of daily life.

Brother Lawrence, a 17th century Carmelite monk who was a cook in his monastery’s kitchen, continues to inspire 21st century learners of contemplative techniques. In his book “The Practice of the Presence of God,” Lawrence told of being a contemplative while washing pots and pans and chopping vegetables.

MacConnell, a member of the Sisters of St. Joseph Carondelet order, has been a contemplative for half a century. She says she feels God’s presence everywhere: while strolling the campus, in watching the seeds she planted become flowering trees, even while pumping gasoline and reading the morning paper.

“We get to the contemplative, I think, by developing what I call ‘contemplative eyes’ so that a person can look out at all of reality and make some connection with God,” she said.

“I think the question is never how much do I love [God] and then I try to quantify that.... The question is always: Do I have a hint as to how deeply God loves me?”

But this grace -- a gift from above -- is not her own doing, she said.

Still, there are things people can do -- such as setting aside time to let Scripture speak to them -- to enhance their prayer experiences.

“Silence and solitude are two big issues for the contemplative,” she said. “There is also a piece in the contemplative that speaks about nonviolence, awareness of the goodness in other people. There is good in everybody. Sometimes it’s a little harder to get to it. But it’s there.”

She recalled a visit by a young, married man with two children. He had the look of a person who wondered what he was doing in her office at the Spirituality Center and kept referring to himself as “just an ordinary man.”

When MacConnell asked if he had any “significant experience of God,” he replied, “No, I am just an ordinary person.”

“So, I looked him in the eyes and said, ‘What was it like when you held your daughter in your arms for the first time?’ He stopped short. His eyes kind of filled with tears. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I have forgotten.’ ” Father Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, likens contemplation, and the compassion that results from it, to a “second gaze.”

“The first gaze is seldom compassionate,” he said. “It’s too busy weighing and feeling itself.”

The first gaze, he says, is all about, “How will this affect me?” or “How does my self-image demand that I react to this situation? How can I get back in control of this situation?”

“In other words, we first feel our feelings before we can relate to the situation and emotions of the other. Only after God has taught us how to live ‘undefended’ can we immediately stand with and for the other, and for the moment. It takes lots of practice.”

The goal of the contemplative is “finding God in all things,” said MacConnell, quoting St. Ignatius from 500 years ago. “For me the key word is all.”

“We know theologically God is always present to us,” she said, “but sometimes we’re so busy, we are not aware of his presence.”

Over the centuries, contemplative prayer has been closely associated with Catholics: St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Ignatius, the 16th century Spanish nobleman who went on to found the Society of Jesus. In the 20th century, Catholic priests Thomas Merton and John Keating were some of the better-known names.

Today in the Christian world, this Catholic tradition is increasingly being sought and embraced by mainline Protestants.

“Just in the last 18 years or so, in the Protestant church in particular, we have been rediscovering a lot of ancient forms of prayer,” said Richard Peace, professor of spiritual formation at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena and the husband of Judy Peace. His most recent book, “Holy Conversation: Talking About God in Every Day Life,” deals with the subject.

“My students are absolutely fascinated by it,” said Peace, a United Church of Christ minister who initiated the spiritual direction program at Fuller.

The power of silence -- the absolute necessity of silence -- is the big thing that Protestants are learning, the theologian said.

His doctoral students are required to participate in a weeklong silent retreat. One year, as the retreat approached, a doctoral candidate named Art Greco -- “an extrovert of extroverts” -- told Peace he couldn’t go through with it.

“That retreat is for introverts; all of you are introverts,” Greco protested. “I am not an introvert. I am going to die.”

The professor didn’t budge. It’s a class requirement, he said. Greco not only survived without talking for a week, he also became a convert.

The experience was so powerful that, a year later, Greco, who was director of evangelism and prayer ministries for the Evangelical Covenant Church, brought his staff to the retreat center.

connie.kang@latimes.com This is one in a series of occasional articles on prayer.