The Jesus Prayer and the Left Hemisphere

That anonymous 19th-century Russian pilgrim said the Jesus Prayer made him drowsy. So an elder told him to say it 3,000 times every day. Exactly 3,000 times: not a jot more nor a jit less. And he had to say it with a prayer rope and orally– quietly, not barking 3,000 times a day like St. Homeless Dude verbally accosting anyone in the vicinity of his frenetic pacing.

The Pilgrim tried it and told the elder it seemed to be working. His elder took it up a notch: 6,000 times every day.

It went well.

So the elder doubled it again: 12,000 times.

Within five days, the Prayer had sci-fi-like descended into the Pilgrim's chest and was saying itself in calibration with his heartbeat. The elder then died, the Pilgrim finished his summer of farm labor, took his wages--two rubles and a rucksack of supplies--and wandered around Russia, talking peacefully and kindly with the people he met, the Prayer beating in his heart without effort.

I was so smitten with The Candid Narrations of a Pilgrim to His Spiritual Father back in the 1990s, I grabbed my rosary and gave it a shot: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." 3,000 times every day. Or maybe I jumped right in at 12,000. I can't remember.

The problem is, I'm a guy who can form an unhealthy fixation on just about anything--just ask my high school sweetheart, who decades later keeps renewing that restraining order even though we never even went out on a date. In retrospect, it's no surprise that, while driving through downtown Detroit traffic on my way to a deposition, I got the rosary chain wrapped in the crevice of my steering wheel and yanked it out with a furious "f***!," snapping the cord and spraying beads all over. And I was already at prayer number 2,824,

That killed my Russian Pilgrim phase.

But the prospect of a good, mellow Jesus Prayer beating in my heart? That ideal– and sporadic practice--never left me.

It takes me three seconds to say it. During Covid, I made myself wash my hands for five Jesus Prayers, per St. Fauci's instructions. At good moments, I say a Jesus Prayer before letting myself gnash against the scores of injustices that afflict poor, pitiful, oppressed me throughout the day.

I once asked my own elder for advice about the Prayer. Sharif Younes at OptimalWork told me to incorporate it into mindfulness meditation. In-breath: Lord Jesus Christ, son of God. Out-breath: Have mercy on me, a sinner.

I think it works. I can kinda feel the prayer synchronizing with my heart like the Pilgrim described, at least during the mindfulness session. And it ain't taking 12,000 ejaculations (easy there, guys: that's the technical term).

Mother Natalia says she does a similar thing, but she really slows it down: In-breath: Lord Jesus Christ. Out-breath: Son of God. In-breath: Have mercy on me. Out-breath: a sinner.

Mantra-like use of the Jesus Prayer is an act of immersing the intellect in the heart, said Lev Gillet, that strange cenobitic hybrid of Russian Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism who wrote under the name, "A Monk of the Eastern Church."

"Immersing the intellect in the heart."

I'm pretty sure that's another way of saying, "Hog-tying your left hemisphere and delivering it buck-naked on a spit to the right hemisphere."

I've long maintained that mindfulness meditation is one of the most intense exercises available to fight against our rogue left hemispheres. The Jesus Prayer is mindfulness meditation with a Christian kicker, making it a great way for a Catholic to do hand-to-hand with the LH.

This makes the Jesus Prayer a type of counter-conduct, which in turn helps a person flourish.

Paul told the Thessalonians to pray without ceasing. Never stop.

It was just inspirational hyperbole, right? Like telling a mathematically-challenged player to "give 110%"?

It's hard to say. Aquinas said it depends on what you mean by "praying." If "prayer" means being on your knees or prostrate, Paul was engaged in inspirational hyperbole. We have shit to do. We can't beat that red light or beat someone's ass for headphone dodging if we're lying on our stomachs with our faces scrunched into the carpet all the time.

But what if prayer means--or maybe just includes--keeping the left hemisphere in check?

It then becomes possible--even necessary, as Paul's injunction implies.

If St. Paul were here today, with the benefit of St. Iain, I'm sure he'd agree: "Pray without ceasing" means "keeping your left hemisphere from ruining your mental life . . . without ceasing."

Given how robust the left hemisphere has become circa 2026, the advice to say 12,000 Jesus Prayers every day doesn't sound too extreme.