Praying and breathing with Father Daniel Ange

A clear call at thirteen

My whole life changed at once, on a certain day of July 13, 1946, at 9:25 a.m., when I was thirteen. In a small chapel with the Blessed Sacrament, I felt the Lord calling me to give him my whole life, with immense strength and gentleness at the same time.

And I accepted straight away.

At the age of seventeen, I entered the Clervaux monastery in Luxembourg. After a few years of life as a monk, I founded a small monastic community, first in the Landes region of France and then in Rwanda, for twelve years. Then I went to live as a hermit on a small island in Lake Kivu, on the border between Congo and Rwanda.

Then I was called back to old Europe. I continued my theological studies in Fribourg, with the great theologian Cardinal Journet. Finally, forty years ago this year, I founded a school of prayer and meditation called Jeunesse-Lumière. I’m still a student there. That’s my itinerary in a nutshell.

Praying with my family, with incense and silence

My very first memory of prayer is family prayer. I wasn’t at boarding school at the time. We used to pray together, as a family, with a very beautiful and meaningful gesture: for each prayer intention, a grain of incense was placed on a small burning ember. It was very good for the children. It allowed them to see and visualize the prayer rising up to the Lord.

And my dad would say, “We’re going to take a minute’s silence for God, in case He wants to talk to us.” So we’d take a minute to listen to the Lord. And that’s how the Lord jumped at the opportunity, and called me to Himself.

This first childhood experience of prayer is very important. After that, of course, it developed a great deal when I was a monk.

Liturgy, the splendour of the Church’s prayer

When I became a monk, my first discovery, which dazzled me, was the splendour of liturgy. The great liturgy. All day long – as well as in the night – the services impart their rhythm, with songs, psalms that express all possible human feelings. There are wonderful hymns sung in gregorian in Clervaux… That is where I discovered the whole wealth of praise, of thanksgiving, of intercession, in that great prayer of the Church.

I would say I knew this before I discovered personal, intimate prayer. It was primarily ecclesial prayer, which spans longitudes and latitudes, centuries and millennia, and it shaped me.

A constant source that whispers within us

Then I made a life-changing discovery, which André Louf expressed very well: ever since I was baptized, Jesus never stops praying to his Father. He praises him, he intercedes, he glorifies him. His prayer precedes mine. So, to pray is to go down to the source that flows in the depths of my soul, even if I don’t always hear it.

I like to use two images to express this. You are driving along a mountain stream. The engine drowns out the sound of the water. You stop, turn off the ignition, get out: then you hear the music of the torrent. That’s what prayer is all about: stopping, listening to the living spring whispering in your heart.

Here’s another image: when I was revisingfor my exams, I used to put on a piece of classical music, like Vivaldi’s Spring. I didn’t listen to it continuously, but now and then, a passage would stop me. This is the same within me, Jesus’ prayer in me flows in me continuously, but in the morning and the evening, when I take time for my silent prayer, I can stop and listen: “What is Jesus saying to his Father, in my heart?” This has enlightened my own prayer life.

Silent prayer: whispering a word of love

For me, it all started with the prayer of Jesus, known as the prayer of the heart, so popular in the East since the time of the Desert Fathers. The familiar typical phrase – “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner” – is too long for me to repeat in pace with my breathing.

Therefore I go for the simpler way. I simply repeat the name of Jesus. Or very short phrases, no more than two or three words: “Jesus, my love”, “Jesus, my joy”, “Jesus, my life”, “Jesus, my beauty”, “You are great, You are beautiful, You are merciful God…”.

Then I repeat them fifty times, one hundred times, three hundred times. I do not count. For several minutes I say this little, very basic word of love. It is free, it is a gift. The heart is the one speaking.

Interceding by listing some intentions

The second part of my prayer time is intercession. Here, I designate people. Jesus, the families. Jesus, the young people. Jesus, the children. Jesus, the divorced. Jesus, Ukraine. Jesus, Russia. Jesus, Gaza… It is a beautiful prayer that can be said anywhere: as we are walking, on a bus, on the tube.

On inhaling, I say “Jesus”. On exhaling, I name a person, a country, a situation. I don’t need to explain all the political or human complexities – He knows. He knows better than I do. It’s enough to say: “Jesus, Haiti. That’s how I pray for people: “Jésus Vanessa, Jésus Isabelle…”. I repeat it, maybe a hundred times. And sometimes, it’s as if something inside me says: “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it. Move on.” And I change. I can also pray for communities: “Jesus Montligeon, Jesus Montligeon…”. And that encompasses all the Montligeon pilgrims.

Trinitarian prayer: breathing the Name

I have a way of praying that is always with me. It’s disconcertingly simple, yet infinitely profound. It is so simple, so easy to say. But the pinnacle of this prayer is when you pray with your breath.

On inhaling, I say “Jesus” – or “Yeshua”. And on exhaling: “Abba, Father”. Then I am overwhelmed with joy. No need to mention the Holy Spirit: he’s there, he’s the very breath. The Holy Spirit is that invisible, discreet, joyful breath. He unites the Son to the Father, and links me to their love.

Jesus. Abba. Two names, two calls, one movement. We enter into peace, gentleness and silent praise. We enter the very heart of the Trinity. I did try to say: “Jesus, Holy Spirit, Father”. But that is too much, too complicated. Two blessed names are enough: “Yeshua, Abba”. Jesus, Father. And that says it all. We join this communion of eternal love. You’re at home in God’s arms.

Offering the Son, receiving the Spirit

Sometimes I elaborate a little. I say, “Faaaaather… I surrender Your Son to You… and You, give Your Holy Spirit!” Ah, that… it overwhelms me! It’s a very simple, naked prayer, but it plunges to the very heart of what I call – if I may say so – the different “ministries” of the three divine Persons.

To be understood as: “Father, you have offered me your Son so much that I can now hand him over to you. I give him back to You, I offer him to You. And You, in exchange, give Your Spirit.” That’s a little filial blackmail, if I may tenderly say so,… but that’s just blackmailing out of love! “Give your Spirit to the world, to the cosmos, to humanity, to the Church, to my family, to my community… and to me too.” This prayer – “Father, I give you your Son… and you give me your Holy Spirit” – can be said anywhere, anytime. In silence or in a low voice, to the pace of your breath. It can be learned in a second, and it gives life to a whole life.

Abba: the secret revealed in Gethsemane

Praying is simple. It comes with the breath, spontaneously, effortlessly. The rhythm of the breath supports the prayer, but I don’t even think about it. It has become natural, like the beating of the heart.

I must say a word about this name that is so moving: Abba. This word is a secret of love that Jesus passed on to us only in Gethsemane, at the heart of his agony. For the first time, he dared confide to the apostles – Peter, James and John – this word of unimaginable tenderness. He would never have uttered it in public. People would have been scnadalized. For Abba is the language of a little child: “Daddy dearest, I love you”. It’s a word of absolute intimacy, of pure affection, like a baby talking to its father.

Jesus waits for the last hour, the final moments, to give us this word. As if to say that we can be a little child even in agony, even in abandonment, even in anguish. Abba, Abba, Abba…And that’s why Peter said to Mark, his secretary and companion: “Above all, write it in Aramaic, don’t translate it right away. Keep the word as I heard it. Saint Paul will do the same. He will keep this word intact, like a pearl.

Two syllables rising to heaven: “Abba, Father!”

This reminds me of an unforgettable moment. The great World Youth Day in 1991 at Czestochowa. when East and West came together, gathering two million young people. Suddenly, a simple, extremely moving chant rose: “Aaaaaaabba…” Two syllables rising to the sky. All together. Then each one, in his or her own language, translated this only word: Abba, Père, Padre, Father… One heart, one prayer, an extraordinary chant that touched John Paul II to the core. It was as if the whole earth had become one child in God’s arms.

Abba, Daddy dearest

And yet… on the Cross, a few hours later, Jesus could no longer say Abba. He could only say: “My God, my God…”. Why not? Because he was descending into the souls of all those who are unable to say “Daddy” to God. I’ve seen this in youth gatherings. At Mass, I read the words of the Our Father alone, and ask everyone to whisper softly: “Daddy… darling Daddy…”. But it never works. Three-quarters of them burst into tears. Many of today’s baptized can no longer say “Abba”. So Jesus says it for them. He carries all the broken-hearted, all those who have run out of words. He cries out: “My God, my God, why? And that Why becomes a sublime prayer.

The cry “Why!”

Today, praying often means crying out our “whys?” In the face of so much suffering, so much injustice, so many horrors… these are true prayers. We mustn’t be afraid to cry out to God. For Jesus “christified” this word. He inhabited it. He raised it up to the Father. Already, at the age of twelve, in the Temple, Jesus and Mary exchange two whys. Mary says, “Why have you done this to us? And Jesus replies, “Why were you looking for me?” Two whys that intersect, already in Jerusalem, already at Easter in the making. And Mary and Joseph don’t understand. The Gospel makes it clear: They did not understand. So we too must accept that we’ll only understand in Heaven. But in the meantime… let’s cry out to God. Why? It is a such a wonderful prayer.

Charles de Foucauld’s prayer

Now, Jesus doesn’t end with a cry. He returns to the Father. He ends thus: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” And this prayer, so beautiful, is that of Charles de Foucauld, which we repeat every evening at Jeunesse Lumière, at the end of Compline:
Father, I surrender myself to You…
Do with me as You please…
Whatever You do, I thank You…

All the Catholics should know that prayer by heart. It is the prayer of the Son, the prayer of surrender, of the total gift, of naked trust.

Tears, a silent prayer

And then there’s another form of prayer we don’t think about enough – tears.

All our tears have already run through Jesus’ eyes. He weeps. He sobs before the tomb of Lazarus. The Greek word is very strong, actually unique in the whole Bible. He sobs, literally. He weeps over Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, with big, hot tears, because the Holy City refuses love.

There are also tears of joy. When Jesus says, “I thank You, Father… for hiding this from the wise and revealing it to the little ones.” The Gospel says he “exults”. One could almost say: an electric current flows through him.

Tears are an immense prayer. The Father sees Jesus’ tears in our eyes. And those of Mary, who also sobs over the world. She does at La Salette, at Syracuse, at Akita. So many of her statues weep. These are not images, they are supplications. Tears are a Eucharist. They save, just as much as blood.

Likewise, in Eastern liturgy, the drop of water poured into the chalice must be hot, boiling hot, if possible. The chalice must smoke! Because not only wine and water, but also the blood… and tears of Christ are mingled in it.

What would you say to a youngster who thinks that praying is a waste of time?

Praying is the opposite of wasting time. It’s about making time fully alive, connecting the present time and eternity. When we say “now and at the hour of our death” in the Ave Maria, we are making an immediate connection. The past no longer belongs to me. The future is in God’s hands.
The present moment – the only moment that belongs to me.

And the time will come when it will be the day of our birth in heaven, and thus the prayer that links us directly to eternity. Times of prayer are times of eternity, and I am no longer a slave to the chronometer, even if I still have to keep to the time, like when I leave for work.

But prayer can be part of our lives continually. For instance by the simple act of uttering the name of Jesus, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”, even alone on the subway or bus. It is not a waste of time at all, it’s just the contrary. It gives a divine dimension to every present moment.

Marveling at the wonders of God

There are different forms of prayer: adoration, where I can pray with my body, putting my face to the ground; praise, if I can express it by raising my hands to the Lord, as the psalms say; and thanksgiving, where I bless the Lord for the beauty of his creation, for all the beautiful things that happen in the world, for all the acts of divine charity that the Holy Spirit stirs up at each split second, day and night, all over the world. All this arouses my praise, my wonder.

Suddenly, I am facing the sun rising over the Mont Blanc, and all I can do is exclaim, “Ah!” This is a prayer. I thank God for the beauty of His creation, for all the acts of charity, generosity and self-sacrifice, illuminating the darkness like a constellation of light.

Intercession

Intercession is another form of prayer. Jesus interceded: “Father, may they be one as we are one”, or “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do”. He interceded. Like Moses, who, on the mountain, held God’s hand in one of his hands and his people’s hand in the other. On the mountain, he cried out to God on behalf of his people, and when he came down, he cried out in God’s name before his people. This shows the link between worshipping and evangelizing. The more we intercede, the more we can be apostles.

Which prayer is closest to your heart?

None in particular. I would say that God makes all forms of prayer agree with my heart very easily. There are times when you are deeper in intercession, others when you are immerged in liturgical praise. At Mass, it is a combination of all forms. There are songs of praise at the beginning, then the Kyrie Eleison, which is a song of intercession, and then we come back to the Gloria, which is praise again.

We move constantly from one to the other. This is something we find in the psalms. It’s impressive to think that all these words were spoken by the very lips of Jesus, Mary and all the saints. It’s quite extraordinary. Today, I can pray with the very words with which Jesus spoke to his Father. These words, these prayers, are divinized, “christified”. It is overwhelming.

Praying is breathing

Praying, after all, is breathing. You can’t live without breathing. When you don’t breathe for a while, you die, normally. When you drown, you die of asphyxiation. Jesus died asphyxiated on the cross, because all of us are in a state of asphyxiation. We don’t breathe in the breath, in the praise of the Holy Spirit.

I would evangelize, in a way, as if I were giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a drowning person. You’ve just pulled them out of the water, you’ve got to get the breath back into their lungs, save lives that way. It happens a lot.

Evangelism as the breath of life

In our missions with Jeunesse-Lumière, when we testify in a classroom, often two or three classes are brought together in a lycée or collège. We spend a couple of hours with each group of students.

We always end with ten minutes of very basic prayers. Before we start, we warn the students, saying: “If you want to go out before prayer, you’re free to do so.” But in fact, no one ever goes out. We start with a few gentle Taizé-style songs on a loop, with one or two short phrases from the Gospel, followed by a few spontaneous but very simple prayers. Students are free to repeat these prayers or not.

Often, during this time of prayer, we see some of the students crying. You can feel Jesus moving from one to the other. At that moment, we are truely rescuing people by teaching them how to breathe again. Many baptized souls are suffocated, asphyxiated. We need to transmit to them the breath of the Holy Spirit, who gives us the name of Jesus and reveals to us the name of the Father.

Why did you found Jeunesse-Lumière?

Jeunesse-Lumière is a school of prayer and evangelization. I would say that above all, it is a school of prayer for evangelization. During one year, sometimes even longer for some, young people devote their entire lives to this, taking a break in their studies or work. That year is given entirely to Jesus,or, rather, received as a gift from him.

The idea of the school is to alternate times of prayerful community life. We have all the liturgical services every day: Lauds, Vespers, Compline, and every evening, three-quarters of an hour of adoration of the Holy Sacrament. In the morning, half an hour of silent prayer. On Fridays, there are no classes or communal meals. Everyone can spend hours in prayer, either on the mountain or in the chapel where the Holy Sacrament is exposed.

Prayer as a source for speaking up

All this is done so that, when we are on a mission, our words may spring from silence. We want our words to touch hearts, because we live a heart-to-heart relationship with Jesus. This is what gives our words their depth and quality. I know that when we talk about Jesus in a classroom, a secondary school or high school, we feel that it is no claptrap, no empty words. It comes from personal experience.

This is what St. John writes in his first letter: “What I have seen with my eyes, what I have heard with my ears, what I have touched with my hands, what I have contemplated of the Word of life, this I proclaim to you for your greatest joy.” We must first have seen Jesus in the Holy Eucharist, heard his word, and touched him in our brothers and sisters. He is the one we proclaim.

We speak from experience, communicating and transmitting all the joy of being children of God, because we experience it. This is the strength of our evangelism at Jeunesse-Lumière.

Evangelizing and welcoming young people

In Jeunesse-Lumière, we have never been thrown out or even thrown eggs at, or tomatoes, let alone stones. Often, the Muslims are the most interested when we talk about God. That’s most impressive. Such is our experience at Jeunesse-Lumière.

When we come back, we report to our bishop on everything we have experienced, and we intercede for all the young people we’ve met, by using their names. Sometimes we take photos. And during adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, we intercede for each of the young people we have met on our missionary tours, which last 2 to 3 weeks, four times a year.

A word for those who can no longer pray

One last question perharps: would you have anything to say to those who can no longer pray?

I believe that prayer is much simpler than people think. For example, I was recently in a hospital and I met a nice lady who said to me: “I’m unable to pray to God. I start a Hail Mary, and I lose the thread. Even Our Lord’s Payer, I stop in the middle. It’s too complicated.” So I said to her, “Listen, you’re just going to say two words: Mary, Jesus. Those are the only two names in the Hail Mary: “Hail Mary… Jesus, blessed is your child.” That’s enough of that. Just two words. Who can’t say two words?” When I saw her again a week later, she was transfigured. She said, “It’s wonderful, it’s so simple. I’m always saying Marie, Jésus, Marie, Marie-Jésus. »

And she added that this gave her a great gentleness in her heart, because these two words at once beg, give thanks, and intercede. Just Mary. Jesus. So say to someone who’s having trouble praying: “Start there. Just say: Mary. Jesus. »

That’s all there is to it. And the Father hears. The Holy Spirit speaks them in you. And that’s it. Nothing is simpler than prayer.

Praying for our deceased

You said, “Your tears can become a prayer.” What can you say to those who are grieving? Could you please share your prayer for our deceased?

Let me start by saying that a part of you is already in heaven with them. They have taken your heart up there. Secondly, you can experience a new kind of relationship with them. It is no longer physical, unfortunately, but spiritual. When you receive Jesus in communion, you know they are with Him. Then you can talk to them, during the time of thanksgiving. They hear you through Jesus.

And that’s how praying for the souls in purgatory is so important. The more we intercede for them, the more they can intercede for us. It is an extraordinary thing. To us who are still on earth, Jesus gives a power equal to that of the saints in heaven to hasten their entry into glory. In this way, we can give birth to heavenly life to those we have loved and continue to love. For there is a permanent interconnection between the Church in heaven, the Church on earth, and the Church of hope – that of souls on the road, in purgatory.

This is particularly true of those who have died without having known hope, perhaps even in despair, such as those who perhaps committed suicide. In heaven, hope does not exist anymore, since it has been fulfilled. So, in the passage to Heaven, God wants to offer them the joy of hope as described by St. Paul. Indeed, it moves us forward into the future: we will be reunited with those we have loved. Your beloved departed is not only in your past. They are in your future. Hope is just that: the certainty of being reunited in the Kingdom. All the saints are also in our future. Whether they lived in the last century or a thousand years ago – Francis, Dominic, Louis Grignion de Montfort… – we will meet them. We are pushed forward towards them.

That’s very consoling.

And I would add: in this communion of prayer between the living and the departed, there is something most beautiful and profoundly mutual.

May the Virgin Mary, who saw her own Son go, and who lived without him on this earth for so many years, wipe every tear from your face, you who mourn.