by Joe Pisani

Several years ago when I was rushing to work, weaving in and out of commuters leaving Grand Central, I raced across Lexington Avenue and almost plowed into a young woman with a cellphone pressed to her ear, who was stumbling in a daze around the corner.

Just as I was about to grumble, “Watch where you’re going,” I heard her sob, “I don’t know what I’m going to do! I don’t know what I’m going to do!” and saw tears streaming down her face.

She didn’t know what she was going to do, but I knew what I had to do and immediately said a silent prayer, asking Jesus to comfort her and guide her through whatever personal crisis had led to such despair. Throughout the day, I repeated that petition and remembered her at lunch when I went to the Church of St. Agnes for Mass and to light a candle for her.

Even though she didn’t know what she was going to do, her soul seemed to be pleading, “Pray for me!”

Seeing her reminded me of the hopelessness expressed so well in Psalm 107: “Some sat in darkness, in utter darkness, prisoners suffering in iron chains …They stumbled, and there was no one to help. Then, they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He brought them out of darkness, the utter darkness, and broke away their chains.”

The psalmist surely knew what it means to despair, and what it means to be so desperate that you don’t think you can go on…like that young woman.

When we reach that state, so many of us utter the plaintive cry to a friend or family member, “Pray for me.”

It may be over the death of a child, a betrayal by a spouse, a seemingly hopeless diagnosis, the loss of a job or the inability to pay our bills. The list is a long one.

Some people reject the idea of turning to prayer, and they respond like Job’s wife, who told him to curse God for his misery … even though God isn’t the cause, he’s the solution. Did that woman on 43rd Street realize that Christ was the only answer and that she needed to pray?

Have you ever asked for prayers? Has anyone ever asked you for prayers? Sometimes I’m so desperate about one thing or another, I’ll say, “Pray for me … PLEASE!”

Over the past week, several people asked me to pray for them. One woman’s father was dying. Another was going for breast cancer surgery. And another didn’t know what to do about a daughter suffering from a self-destructive drinking and drug problem. “Pray for me,” they said.

Always remember that Jesus isn’t sitting on his celestial throne far removed from our suffering and only concerned with the monumental events of the universe. He’s right beside each of us, listening to prayers and answering them, sharing our suffering. He’s there, waiting to console and comfort with his infinite love and mercy. And because it’s infinite, there’s enough for everyone.

“Pray for me. I have to go for tests.” “Pray for me, I lost my job.” “Pray for me, I’m so lonely and depressed.”

More than 150 years ago, the poet John Greenleaf Whittier wrote about a woman dressed in black with a veil over her face who rushed into a crowded church, hurried down the aisle, and placed a piece of paper on the altar. Then, she ran back out into the night. When the pastor opened the paper, all that was written on it were the words “Pray for me.”

The poem “The Prayer Seeker” begins:
Along the aisle where prayer was made,
A woman, all in black arrayed,
Close-veiled, between the kneeling host,
With gliding motion of a ghost,
Passed to the desk, and laid thereon
A scroll which bore these words alone,
“Pray for me!”

Back from the place of worshipping
She glided like a guilty thing
The rustle of her draperies, stirred
By hurrying feet, alone was heard;
While, full of awe, the preacher read,
As out into the dark she sped:
“Pray for me!”

Back to the night from whence she came,
To unimagined grief or shame!
Across the threshold of that door
None knew the burden that she bore;
Alone she left the written scroll,
The legend of a troubled soul,
“Pray for me!”
Always remember that all things are possible with prayer.