The intention of this book is not so much to teach people how to pray as to explore prayer from a theological and doctrinal perspective. As Cocksworth remarks in the introduction, ‘courses on prayer are more likely to be offered by churches than by universities’ (p. 1); but Cocksworth represents an increasing number of theologians whose commitment is to ‘kneeling theology’, which is the title of chapter 1 of the book, exploring the work of Evagrius of Pontus.
Evagrius brings into sharp focus the thesis that Cocksworth explores throughout the book: prayer is the place of genuine theological discovery, where human and divine converse, where the divine character discloses itself and, in doing so, shapes the thought and life of the praying human being. Evagrius takes it for granted that genuine theological insight comes as a result of God's self-disclosure in this place of conversation, which strips the human partner of illusions of control and possession, and so readies them for the task of theology in all its richness.
Briefly and schematically, Cocksworth outlines the gradual sundering of the bond between theology and prayer that Evagrius took for granted. But he also notes the returning swing of the pendulum, represented by scholars such as Sarah Coakley, Rowan Williams and Nicholas Lash, whose theology Cocksworth explores illuminatingly. Each takes for granted that prayer, practised and studied, is a theological resource, deepening rather than dissipating intellectual challenge. Cocksworth follows the thread of Coakley's argument, that prayer refuses easy foreclosure in systematic theology, requiring attention to texts and practices that have been sidelined as ‘unsystematic’. This takes a different but related form in Cocksworth's outline of Williams’ theology of ‘dispossession’, which resists easy and tidy systemisation of the divine in favour of a contemplative practice of waiting on God. Finally, Cocksworth looks at the theology of Lash, which he describes as ‘Amen’ theology, aware that it is always joining in an ongoing dialogue, not starting at the beginning, but addressing ourselves, with others, to the God who invites our address. Each theologian is outlined with tantalising brevity and considerable insight, allowing different but overlapping themes to emerge strongly.
Cocksworth then moves on to what is undoubtedly the meat of the book, which is an exposition of the trinitarian nature of prayer, and the role prayer played in shaping doctrinal statements. He argues that underlying doctrinal controversy, for example in the challenge of the Arian heresy, is the need to clarify and remain true to what it is we do when we pray. The divinity of Son and Spirit was already grounded in prayer before it was defended in creeds. From this helpful exploration, Cocksworth continues into a chapter on christology. Under the headings of Jesus as ‘pray-er’ and ‘prayer’, Cocksworth illuminates the Chalcedonian definition's description of Jesus as ‘fully human, fully divine’. Prayer as a practice enabling union between human and divine is located in the reality of this union of humanity and divinity in Christ.
The final two chapters are less well-integrated into the overall theme that Cocksworth has been pursuing of the indissolubility of prayer and theology, but they address important questions related to prayer; and they address them theologically, rather than purely practically. A chapter on ‘Petition and Providence’ looks at the vexed question of how human and divine freedom interact in prayer. A swift canter through Aquinas and Barth, refreshed by the addition of Kathryn Tanner and Jeremy Begbie leads to a summary of petitionary prayer and its relation to divine providence as essentially about the ‘profound intimacy of the divine-human relation’ (p. 172). As always, Cocksworth is a perceptive guide to the theologians he engages with, but this chapter feels a bit rushed as it moves into the final one, on ‘The Christian Life and the Politics of Prayer’. Prayer, Cocksworth argues, is endlessly subversive, and calls the pray-er to rise from their knees and stand ‘in solidarity with others’ (p. 200) in the ancient ‘orans’ posture, with arms uplifted as we turn to God.
This is a richly thought-provoking book, but each chapter could have been a book in itself. Cocskworth's insight into the plethora of theologians he engages with is so good that one longs for him to give more time and space to develop his thoughts and draw out his suggestions and conclusions. The swift pace and the attempt to cover so much, converse with so many different voices, make so many points in such compressed space, leaves questions unanswered and some points unclear. For example, in the final chapter Cocksworth seems to be suggesting that personal prayer is more ‘effective’ than liturgical prayer or eucharistic practice, because it can be done anywhere (p. 177). The point is not pursued, as the argument moves on, so it is not clear what Cocksworth is saying here about the relationship between ecclesial and personal prayer. Which have we then been discussing throughout the book? One or both?
It is surely a good thing that a book leaves you longing to take the author out for an extended lunch and press him for more detail on every point. His thesis, that prayer and theology cannot be separated, is at the heart of theological training and suggests that this book belongs on reading lists up and down the country.
