We must remember that by the term ‘Jesus Prayer’ the Byzantine East refers, loosely enough, to any invocation centring in the Saviour's name itself. This invocation has taken various forms depending on whether it was used by itself, or included in more or less developed formulas. Moreover, it is for the individual to decide on his special way of invoking the name. In the East it has tended to take definite shape in the phrase 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner', but this formula has not been, and is not, the only one. That is an authentic ‘Jesus Prayer’ in the Byzantine sense, which is a repeated invocation whose core and strength is the name of Jesus. One might say, for example, 'Jesus Christ', or ‘Lord Jesus'. The oldest formula, the simplest, and in our view the easiest, is the word ‘Jesus’ used by itself. It is in this sense that we shall speak here of the 'Jesus Prayer'.

Throughout the Church at the present time there is a growing movement of return to a closer love and more popular understanding and sharing in the prayer of the Liturgy. To a system which sees an earthly paradise in terms of the community, the Christian faith contrasts the fundamental truth of divine revelation that the relationship between man and God is one between a community of persons. But within that shared life of Christians there often exists a longing for greater simplicity and directness in the approach of the individual to God. For a baptised Christian does not primarily join an earthly society or adopt an ideology, he enters into a relationship with God, with three divine persons. God gives himself, adopts the Christian, who must then discover how to receive his adoption, how to get out of his own way, how to ‘die in order to live'.

Don't let us make any mistake: we are ordered to make this prayer of petition. Go to God as to your absolute All—your father, brother, creator. I must turn to him as the lover of souls—as one who loves me beyond the dreams of imagination; who has only one care for me, that the best may be mine; who longs for me. ‘As the hart panteth’ (I am not afraid to put that the other way round) so does God long for me. People complain ‘I can't meditate I can't pray'. That is often another way of saying ‘I’m not interested enough'. Is it possible that I have not got enough interest in it? Am I sure that I really want it enough?

The Lord is my Light.’ These words from the psalm form the device of our senior University. Come back with me a moment to the early years Of the twelfth century. Come to Oxford, to the vicinity of St Mary the Virgin's Church in the High Street. A certain Theobald, a master from Normandy, arrives here with his own group of disciples. Later his place is taken by Robert Pullen and Vacarius of Bologna.

In the second half of the century, there comes a whole migration of masters and disciples, driven back from Paris because of discrimination against their countrymen. Oxford was then an island town, surrounded by marshland and rivers, at the spot where the Cherwell joins the Isis or Thames: an important river crossing with easy access to London. The food supply was good, and it was in the centre of England's population.

One of the tragedies of our time is that practically the whole world has the idea that it is not called to prayer. Yet the paths of prayer form the map of life. It seems odd that, at a time when men are not ony off the road but have forgotten there is one, the need for direction is still questioned. For it is spiritual direction which helps men both to find and follow the ways of God. But there are still those who deny its neccesity completely, even in the pursuit of the highest sanctity. More commonly it is simply stated that it is not so necessary these days. This applies, presumably, even to the youth of today. It is argued that the young show no liking for direction. They are more independent of mind and better educated than in the past, and so less in need of direction, and sooner able to read spiritual authors for themselves.