It is the most common — and often the most discouraging — experience of the life of prayer: one kneels down to speak to God, and the mind immediately goes elsewhere. The shopping list, a slight from yesterday, a project, a memory, a melody: within seconds, the heart has left the room it thought it was entering. Many conclude that they "do not know how to pray", that their prayer "does not count", or that they should wait until their mind is calmer. How should one pray when distracted?
The Catholic tradition answers with remarkable unanimity, from the Desert Fathers to modern mystics, and its answer overturns spontaneous anxiety. The Catechism names the problem directly: "The habitual difficulty in prayer is distraction"[1]. Habitual: not the accident of a lukewarm soul, but the ordinary condition of everyone who prays, including the saints. Distraction is therefore neither proof of failure nor a sin in itself. It becomes a fault only when it is knowingly cultivated; when suffered despite our efforts, it simply reveals the weight of a heart still divided — and, paradoxically, opens a path of humility and pure love.
This article therefore distinguishes carefully what the faith teaches. First, where distractions come from and what they reveal about us. Then, whether one should worry about them: the answer of Saint Thomas Aquinas and of the great masters of prayer is a firm and consoling no. Finally, how to pray concretely when one is distracted: not by a technique of concentration, but through the tested remedies of the tradition — returning without violence, repeating a short formula, leaning on vocal prayer, the body, lectio divina, and even offering one's own distraction. For, as Pope Francis recalls, "the true progress of the spiritual life does not consist in multiplying ecstasies, but in being able to persevere in difficult times"[2].
Distraction is a universal experience of those who pray
Before looking for remedies, one must disarm the guilt that poisons so many lives of prayer. The first service the tradition offers is not a method: it is a reassuring diagnosis. Distraction is not the sign of a failing faith; it is the ordinary weather of the human heart as soon as it turns toward God.
"The habitual difficulty in prayer"
The Catechism places distraction among the objections to prayer, that is, among the obstacles every Christian meets — not among sins. It speaks of it with a finesse born of experience:
"The habitual difficulty in prayer is distraction. It can affect words and their meaning in vocal prayer; it can concern, more profoundly, him to whom we are praying." — Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2729[3]
Everything is contained in that progression. There is superficial distraction — reciting an Our Father while thinking of something else — and there is a deeper, subtler distraction, when one still prays but has lost sight of the One to whom one is speaking, as one may continue a conversation while inwardly thinking elsewhere. The word habitual is decisive: this is the normal condition, not a shameful relapse. The combat of prayer, the Catechism had just said, is a combat "against ourselves and against the wiles of the Tempter who does all he can to turn man away from prayer"[4].
A fact attested from the Desert Fathers to modern saints
Far from being a weakness of Christians distracted by screens, the wandering of the mind is documented from the first centuries of monasticism by men who nevertheless devoted whole days to prayer. At the beginning of the fifth century, John Cassian reports the complaint of the monks to Abba Isaac in a page of striking relevance:
"Scarcely have we begun to occupy ourselves with a psalm when it escapes us without our noticing, and we are surprised to have passed so quickly to another text of Scripture. [...] We pass thus from one subject to another, we wander from psalm to psalm; [...] our mind only runs through the holy Scriptures, unable either to set anything aside or to retain anything. [...] The soul, always mobile, always distracted, is like a drunken person." — John Cassian, Conferences, X, 13[5]
A little before him, Evagrius Ponticus (d. 399), master of desert prayer, had made the diagnosis with almost surgical lucidity:
"When praying, keep strict watch over the memory, so that instead of suggesting its recollections it may bring you to the consciousness of your exercise; for the intellect has a terrible tendency to be plundered by memory at the time of prayer." — Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, 45[6]
And more than a thousand years later, Saint Teresa of Avila (d. 1582), Doctor of the Church and summit of mystical teaching, admits exactly the same thing, without the slightest affectation:
"I spent several years in this trial of not being able to hold my mind still during prayer, and I confess that it is a very great one." — Saint Teresa of Avila, The Way of Perfection, ch. XXVI[7]
When the diagnosis is the same for the beginner and for the doctor of prayer, it is not a personal defect but a law of the human condition: a heart still on the way does not spontaneously remain gathered.
Distraction is not lukewarmness
The misunderstanding to dispel is this: confusing distraction with lukewarmness. Lukewarmness is a lack of love; distraction is a lack of attention. One can deeply love someone and still have the mind wander while speaking to him — the most ordinary human experience proves it. Suffered distraction does not extinguish charity; it only reveals that our nature, wounded and dispersed by sin, does not become recollected all at once. This is why the masters always distinguish the distraction one entertains through laziness from the distraction one suffers despite one's effort. The first is a real negligence; the second is only a trial to cross. The whole pastoral issue is not to turn the second into paralyzing guilt — which, as we shall see, is precisely what the enemy wants.
Where do distractions come from? Anatomy of a scattered heart
In order not to fight blindly, the tradition has sought to understand where distractions come from. It classically distinguishes three sources, which reinforce one another: the world (our worries and memories), the body (its fatigue and instability), and the enemy (the demon who exploits the first two). Far from being naive psychology, this analysis remains highly accurate as a description.
The three sources: the world, the body, the enemy
The first source is the memory loaded with the world. Evagrius observes that distraction is not prepared during prayer, but before it: a mind cluttered with worries and possessions cannot become recollected with a snap of the fingers.
"You cannot pray purely if you are entangled in material things and agitated by continual cares; for prayer is the laying aside of thoughts." — Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, 71[8]
The second source is the body: its fatigue, heaviness and need for movement. Cassian notes that an unstable mind is fed by idleness, and that manual work, vigil and sobriety are among the first allies of attention[9]. Fatigue, especially, is not a fault: Saint Therese of Lisieux, as we shall see, fell asleep during prayer without being troubled by it.
The third source is the adversary. The spiritual tradition is unanimous: the demon fears prayer and actively works to scatter it. Evagrius is explicit:
"The demon is extremely jealous of the man who prays, and he uses every device to make him miss his goal. Thus he constantly revives, through memory, the thought of things, and awakens, through the flesh, all the passions, in order to hinder his beautiful course and his exodus toward God." — Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, 46[10]
This third source explains a troubling fact of experience: we often think of everything as soon as we begin to pray, though we were not thinking of it a minute earlier. For the Fathers, this is not a coincidence; it is the work of an enemy who knows exactly what to revive.
The imagination, that untamable power
At the heart of all these sources lies a faculty that Saint Teresa of Avila described better than anyone: the imagination, which never stops and which no will can immobilize by itself. In French it is sometimes called the folle du logis — a later expression often attached to Malebranche, not written by Teresa, but faithful to her intuition. Teresa herself speaks of a bird:
"I could not see without pain that it was so inconstant and so flighty as to pass ordinarily from one thought to another with the speed of a bird, there being only God who can stop the imagination. [...] At times it has happened to me that, while all my faculties seemed occupied with God and recollected in him, I saw at the same time my imagination so troubled and so astray that I could not be sufficiently astonished." — Saint Teresa of Avila, Interior Castle, Fourth Mansions, ch. 1[11]
The observation is psychologically profound: one can be truly turned toward God by the will and by love (the "faculties"), while having an imagination that churns on the surface like a stormy sea. Teresa draws a liberating conclusion from this: since the imagination is as little under our control as the movement of the heavens, one must neither be surprised nor distressed by it.
What distraction reveals about the heart
One final, more interior question remains: why these distractions rather than others? The Catechism offers here a spiritually fruitful insight. Distraction is not random noise; it is a revelation:
"To set about hunting down distractions would be to fall into their trap, when all that is necessary is to turn back to our heart: for a distraction reveals to us what we are attached to, and this humble awareness before the Lord should awaken our preferential love for him and lead us resolutely to offer him our heart to be purified." — Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2729[12]
What I cannot help thinking about while I pray tells me where my treasure is (cf. Mt 6:21). Distraction thus becomes a free examination of conscience: it brings to light my attachments, fears and real desires. Properly understood, it does not lead away from God; it gives material to offer him. This is already a first remedy — not fighting the thought, but turning it into an offering.
Should one worry? The reassuring answer of the tradition
Here is the doctrinal heart of the question, and the good news many people do not know: according to the most classical Catholic theology, involuntary distraction does not destroy prayer. Saint Thomas Aquinas established this with a precision that remains normative, and spiritual masters have never ceased to repeat it in practical terms.
Saint Thomas Aquinas: voluntary or involuntary distraction
The question Saint Thomas asks is exactly ours: "Must prayer be attentive?" (Utrum oratio debeat esse attenta)[13]. His answer proceeds by distinctions, and each of them calms a false anxiety.
Three kinds of attention
Thomas first distinguishes three possible forms of attention in prayer, and specifies which is truly necessary:
- attention to the words, so as not to make mistakes in pronouncing them;
- attention to the meaning of the words being said;
- attention to God and to the end for which one prays.
He writes that "this last attention is the most necessary, and even the unlearned can have it"[14]. In other words, what makes prayer prayer is not intellectually following every word (an illiterate person who loves God prays perfectly), but remaining turned toward him. This deepest attention can subsist beneath surface distraction — exactly what Teresa of Avila described when her "faculties" were occupied with God while the imagination was in revolt.
Why suffered distraction does not destroy prayer
Then comes the distinction that liberates consciences. Everything depends on the will:
"For the mind to wander deliberately during prayer is a sin and prevents prayer from having its fruit. [...] But for the mind to wander in prayer against one's purpose does not take away the fruit of prayer." — Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, IIa-IIae, q. 83, a. 13[15]
How can a distracted prayer still bear fruit? Through the force of the initial intention. One who begins to pray with the upright intention of addressing God retains the benefit of that intention, even if attention later weakens through human frailty, "for the force of the first intention with which one approaches prayer renders the whole prayer meritorious"[16]. Thus the decisive criterion is not mental performance, but the orientation of the heart: did I want to turn away, or did I merely suffer wandering and return as soon as I noticed? In the second case, my prayer remains whole before God.
Saint Teresa of Avila: "do not be troubled"
What Thomas establishes as a theologian, Teresa repeats as a mother of souls: the fatal error would be to leave prayer out of disgust at one's distractions — and that is precisely what the enemy wants.
"Just as the heavens move with a speed impossible to stop, so we cannot stop our imagination. [...] We must therefore not let this trouble us or make us abandon prayer, which is what the demon would desire." — Saint Teresa of Avila, Interior Castle, Fourth Mansions, ch. 1[17]
She insists, almost to the point of repetition, with the tenderness of a spiritual director:
"I repeat it again, and I cannot repeat it too often: one must neither be anxious nor afflicted by these drynesses, these disturbances and these distractions of our mind." — Saint Teresa of Avila, The Life, ch. XI[18]
Saint Therese of Lisieux: falling asleep without distress
If one needed proof that sanctity is compatible with the most complete distraction, Saint Therese of Lisieux provides it with disarming simplicity. She admits falling asleep during her prayers — for seven years — and, rather than being distressed, turns it into an act of trust:
"I ought to be distressed at sleeping (for seven years) during my prayers and thanksgivings; well, I am not distressed... I think that little children please their parents as much when they are asleep as when they are awake; I think that, in order to perform operations, doctors put their patients to sleep. Finally, I think that 'the Lord sees our frailty, that he remembers we are but dust.'" — Saint Therese of Lisieux, Story of a Soul, Ms A, fol. 75v[19]
This is the summit of spiritual childhood applied to prayer. Therese does not excuse negligence; she refuses to measure God's love by the quality of her mental attention. A child sleeping in his Father's arms has not left the Father's presence.
Pope Francis: distractions are not culpable
Pope Francis, in his catechesis of 19 May 2021 devoted to distraction, dryness and acedia, formulates the same teaching in a direct pastoral language:
"Distractions are not culpable, but they must be fought. [...] In the heritage of our faith there is one virtue that is often forgotten, but which is very present in the Gospel: vigilance." — Pope Francis, general audience, 19 May 2021[20]
This sentence gives the right tone: no culpability for what is not willed, but no resignation either. The Christian does not panic; he watches. He does not accuse himself at every wandering thought; he returns.
How should one pray when distracted? Remedies from the masters
The tradition's remedies are surprisingly simple. They do not promise to suppress every distraction; they teach how to live them without losing prayer. They all share one logic: do not chase thoughts; return to God.
Return gently, without self-violence
The Catechism's first advice is negative, and therefore liberating: "To set about hunting down distractions would be to fall into their trap".[21] The mistake is to enter into a duel with one's own thoughts. The more one says, I must not think about this, the more the thought takes the whole place. The Christian remedy is humbler: notice, acknowledge, return. Saint Francis de Sales gives the tone of this method of gentleness in his chapter on anxiety:
"If your heart has wandered away, seek it and bring it back quite gently into the presence of God. And even if you did nothing in your whole hour but bring back your heart and place it again in Our Lord's presence, though it wandered away each time you brought it back, your hour would be very well employed." — Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, IV, 11[22]
This is perhaps the most practical sentence in the whole tradition. Even an hour of prayer in which one has done nothing but return again and again is not wasted. It is an hour of fidelity, humility and perseverance — exactly the virtues that distraction is meant to teach.
Use a short formula
John Cassian, in his Tenth Conference, proposes to the monks a biblical formula to repeat without ceasing: Deus in adiutorium meum intende; Domine, ad adiuvandum me festina — "O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me" (Ps 69/70:2).[23] The Church placed this verse at the beginning of every hour of the Divine Office, as if to acknowledge that every prayer begins with the same poverty: Lord, help me to pray.
A short formula works because it gives the mind a single point of return: Jesus, I trust in You; Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me; Come, Holy Spirit; My God, I love You. It is not a mantra in the impersonal sense; it is a personal address. It gathers the heart by bringing it back to Someone.
Resume vocal prayer and spiritual reading
When the mind can no longer remain in silent prayer, the masters advise leaning on words. Saint Francis de Sales writes, in his counsels on dryness during meditation:
"If you are afflicted with much dryness, open the door to vocal prayers; complain of yourself to Our Lord, confess your unworthiness, ask him to help you; kiss his image if you have it; say to him these words of Jacob: I will not let you go, Lord, unless you bless me; or those of the Canaanite woman: Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table. At other times take a book in hand and read it with attention until your mind is awakened and restored." — Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, II, 9[24]
Teresa of Avila says the same thing in a striking image: when she could not recollect herself in prayer, a book served as a shield:
"For eighteen years, except after Communion, I never dared to begin prayer without a book; for my soul feared prayer without it as much as if it had to fight a multitude of people. With this remedy, which was like a shield to receive the blows of many thoughts, I was consoled." — Saint Teresa of Avila, The Life, ch. IV[25]
The Catechism confirms the dignity of vocal prayer: because man is body and spirit, "the need to involve the senses in interior prayer corresponds to a requirement of our human nature"[26].
The body in the service of attention: place, time, posture
The masters are surprisingly down to earth. Before scolding the soul, they adjust the concrete conditions. Prepare the heart before praying: "Before prayer, prepare your soul, and do not be like one who tempts God" (Sir 18:23). Choose a retired place, according to Christ's counsel: "When you pray, go into your room and shut the door" (Mt 6:6) — shutting the door also means closing the inner tumult. Watch the time and one's fatigue: Cassian recalls that "three things prevent the heart from wandering: vigil, meditation and prayer", but that one cannot reach this "without manual work"[27], that is, without an ordered life. Posture itself helps: prostrating oneself, joining the hands, fixing the eyes on a crucifix "pricks the heart" and awakens devotion, Francis de Sales advises[28]. The body is not the enemy of prayer; rightly disposed, it is its first servant.
Lectio divina and the "spiritual bouquet"
A scattered mind needs food to chew, not a void to contemplate. Lectio divina — prayerful reading of Scripture — offers this point of support: the monastic tradition, summarized in the twelfth century by Guigo II the Carthusian in his Ladder of Monks, describes its four steps: lectio (reading), meditatio (meditation), oratio (prayer), contemplatio (contemplation)[29]. One reads a verse slowly, ruminates on it, and prayer is born from that rumination — the mind has less leisure to flee when it is holding a text. Francis de Sales advises, when leaving meditation, to gather a "spiritual bouquet":
"Those who have walked in a beautiful garden do not willingly leave it without taking in their hand four or five flowers to smell during the day: likewise, our mind having meditated on some mystery, we should choose one or two or three points [...] to remember during the rest of the day and to breathe spiritually." — Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, II, 7[30]
This "bouquet" prolongs prayer during the day and, in return, gives the next day's prayer an anchor against dispersion.
When distraction becomes dryness or acedia
Finally, one must distinguish simple distraction from two heavier states that the Catechism names precisely. Dryness is the absence of all sensible taste in prayer: "the heart is separated from God, with no taste for thoughts, memories and feelings, even spiritual ones"[31]. It is not a distraction but a purifying trial — "the moment of sheer faith", says the Catechism. Acedia, more serious, is "a form of depression due to lax ascetical practice, decreasing vigilance, carelessness of heart"[32]: a spiritual disgust that pushes one to abandon everything. Faced with these states, the remedy is no longer concentration but bare fidelity. Francis de Sales offers here his most consoling image, that of the courtier:
"However great your dryness may be, do not be troubled, but continue to remain in a devout posture before your God. How many courtiers go a hundred times a year into the prince's chamber with no hope of speaking to him, but only to be seen by him and to render their duty!" — Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, II, 9[33]
Pope Francis, in the same catechesis of 19 May 2021 on distraction, aridity and acedia, says the same thing in contemporary language:
"Distractions are not culpable, but they must be fought. [...] The true progress of the spiritual life does not consist in multiplying ecstasies, but in being able to persevere in difficult times: keep walking, keep walking, keep walking..." — Pope Francis, general audience, 19 May 2021[34]
Distraction, dryness, acedia: knowing the difference
Confusing these three realities leads to false panics and false remedies. The following table summarizes the doctrine of the Catechism (2729-2733) and of the tradition.
| Reality | What it is | How I am responsible | Main remedy |
|---|---|---|---|
| Distraction | The mind wanders despite me during prayer | Not culpable if suffered; culpable only if deliberately entertained | Return gently, without chasing thoughts (CCC 2729) |
| Dryness | Absence of sensible taste; the heart is "weaned" | Not culpable: a purifying trial, "the moment of sheer faith" | Bare fidelity, perseverance, vocal prayer (CCC 2731) |
| Acedia | Spiritual disgust, temptation to abandon everything | Partly culpable: born of laxity and negligence | Renew vigilance and ascetic effort; humility (CCC 2733) |
Reading the table: the further down one goes, the greater the share of the will. Suffered distraction scarcely engages responsibility; acedia, by contrast, supposes a relaxation that must be corrected. But in all three cases, the fundamental answer is the same: stay, do not leave the battlefield.
Distraction as a school of humility and pure love
The most beautiful point remains. When lived well, distraction is not only an obstacle to endure: it becomes a spiritual teacher. It teaches what easy prayer would never teach.
Praying "out of duty" when taste is lacking
First, it teaches one to love gratuitously. As long as prayer is sweet, one does not know whether one seeks God or the consolation he gives. Distracted, dry, boring prayer purifies love: one remains for him, not for what one feels. This is the whole meaning of Francis de Sales's image of the courtier who comes "only to be seen" by the prince[35]. Perseverance in prayer without taste is worth more before God than the most beautiful ecstasies sought for themselves.
Offering even one's distraction
Then it teaches total offering. Since distraction "reveals to us what we are attached to"[36], the person who prays can make every intrusive thought into material for offering: Lord, here is what occupies me; I give it to You. Thus prayer is no longer interrupted by distraction — it integrates it. The combat itself becomes prayer. This is why Evagrius placed patient prayer among the weapons of combat: "the wandering intellect is held fast by reading, vigil and prayer"[37].
The attention of the heart rather than of the head
Finally, distraction leads us to understand where prayer truly takes place: not in the head, but in the heart. God does not expect a performance of concentration; he expects an orientation of love. Christ's reproach never targets the mind that wanders despite itself, but the voluntarily absent heart: "This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me" (cf. Is 29:13; Mt 15:8). Conversely, a heart turned toward God beneath a thousand distractions truly honors him. This is the third attention of Saint Thomas — attention to God — which can inhabit prayer that is entirely distracted on the surface. Far from ruining prayer, distraction reveals its truth: it is not a matter of mental mastery, but of offered poverty. "Prayer is the laying aside of thoughts", Evagrius said[38] — not by force, but because a heart finally given wholly to God no longer needs so many words.
Further reading
Notes and References
Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2729: "The habitual difficulty in prayer is distraction. It can affect words and their meaning in vocal prayer; it can concern, more profoundly, him to whom we are praying."
1 3Pope Francis, ibid.: "The true progress of the spiritual life does not consist in multiplying ecstasies, but in being able to persevere in difficult times: walk, walk, walk..."
2Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2725: "Prayer is both a gift of grace and a determined response on our part. It always presupposes effort. The great figures of prayer of the Old Covenant before Christ, as well as the Mother of God, the saints, and he himself, all teach us this: prayer is a battle. Against whom? Against ourselves and against the wiles of the tempter who does all he can to turn man away from prayer."
4John Cassian, Conferences, X, 13: description of the unstable mind "like a drunken person," wandering from psalm to psalm without retaining anything.
5Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, 45 [44] (text in the Philokalia of the Neptic Fathers, vol. A1). The double numbering corresponds to the Philokalia edition and to the Patrologia Graeca (PG 79).
6Saint Teresa of Avila, The Way of Perfection, ch. XXVI (on ways of gathering one's thoughts): "I spent several years in this trial of not being able to hold my mind still during prayer, and I confess that it is a very great one."
7Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, 71 [70] (Philokalia, vol. A1): "prayer is the laying aside of thoughts" ("ἀπόθεσις νοημάτων").
8 38John Cassian, Conferences, X, 14: "There are three things that prevent [the heart] from wandering: vigil, meditation and prayer [...]; yet one cannot attain this without manual work."
9 27Evagrius Ponticus, Chapters on Prayer, 46 [45] (Philokalia, vol. A1).
10Saint Teresa of Avila, Interior Castle (The Mansions), Fourth Mansions, ch. 1, on the difference between the understanding and the imagination (French translation after the old Villefore edition; standard Mansion and chapter numbering).
11Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2729: "To set about hunting down distractions would be to fall into their trap, when all that is necessary is to turn back to our heart: for a distraction reveals to us what we are attached to, and this humble awareness before the Lord should awaken our preferential love for him and lead us resolutely to offer him our heart to be purified."
12 21 36Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, IIa-IIae, q. 83, a. 13, titled "Utrum oratio debeat esse attenta" ("Whether prayer ought to be attentive"). French translation in the Cerf edition.
13Saint Thomas Aquinas, ibid., corpus: three kinds of attention are possible in prayer — to the words, to their meaning, and to God as the end; "this last attention is most necessary, and even the unlearned can have it" ("quam etiam idiotae habere possunt").
14Saint Thomas Aquinas, ibid., corpus: "Mens quae in oratione de industria evagatur, hoc est peccatum, et impedit orationis fructum. [...] Sed hoc quod mens evagetur in oratione praeter propositum, non tollit orationis fructum." ("For the mind to wander deliberately during prayer is a sin and prevents prayer from having its fruit; but for the mind to wander in prayer against one's purpose does not take away the fruit of prayer.")
15Saint Thomas Aquinas, ibid., corpus: "Vis primae intentionis qua quis ad orandum accedit, reddit totam orationem meritoriam" — the force of the first intention renders the whole prayer meritorious, even if attention later weakens through human frailty.
16Saint Teresa of Avila, Interior Castle, Fourth Mansions, ch. 1 (section on distractions): such things must not make us "abandon prayer, which is what the demon would desire."
17Saint Teresa of Avila, The Life, ch. XI (numbering of the old French edition; slightly different from modern critical editions): "one must neither be anxious nor afflicted by these drynesses [...] and these distractions of our mind."
18Saint Therese of Lisieux, Autobiographical Manuscripts, Manuscript A, fol. 75v. The final quotation echoes Psalm 102 (103):14: "he knows of what we are made; he remembers that we are dust."
19Pope Francis, general audience of 19 May 2021, catechesis on prayer no. 34 ("Distraction, aridity, acedia"): "Distractions are not culpable, but they must be fought."
20 34Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, Part IV, ch. XI ("On anxiety"): "seek it and bring it back quite gently into the presence of God." The counsel concerns the wandering heart and grounds the Salesian "method of gentleness" applied to prayer.
22John Cassian, Conferences, X (Second Conference with Abba Isaac, on prayer), ch. 10. The formula is Psalm 69 (70):2: "Deus in adiutorium meum intende; Domine, ad adiuvandum me festina." The Church placed it at the beginning of every hour of the Divine Office.
23Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, Part II, ch. IX ("For drynesses that occur in meditation"): "open the door to vocal prayers [...], take a book in hand, and read it with attention until your mind is awakened."
24 28Saint Teresa of Avila, The Life, ch. IV: a book as a "shield" against distraction during prayer.
25Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2702: "The need to involve the senses in interior prayer corresponds to a requirement of our human nature. We are body and spirit, and we experience the need to translate our feelings externally."
26Guigo II the Carthusian (d. c. 1188), Scala claustralium (The Ladder of Monks, or Letter on the Contemplative Life): the four steps of lectio divina — lectio, meditatio, oratio, contemplatio.
29Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, Part II, ch. VII ("Of the conclusion and spiritual bouquet").
30Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2731, on dryness: "Dryness belongs to contemplative prayer when the heart is separated from God, with no taste for thoughts, memories, and feelings, even spiritual ones. This is the moment of sheer faith clinging faithfully to Jesus."
31Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2733, on acedia: "Another temptation, to which presumption opens the gate, is acedia. The spiritual writers understand by this a form of depression due to lax ascetical practice, decreasing vigilance, carelessness of heart."
32Saint Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, Part II, ch. IX: the image of the courtier who goes "a hundred times a year into the prince's chamber [...] only to be seen by him and to render his duty."
33 35Evagrius Ponticus, Neptic Chapters, 5 [15] (Philokalia, vol. A1): "The wandering intellect is held fast by reading, vigil and prayer."
37