A Prayer for the Friend Behind Me Who Uses His iPhone During Worship
O Lord, in Your mysterious providence, You have seen fit to seat me each First Day directly in front of Your faithful servant, the elderly Friend whose devotion to silent worship is expressed through vigorous interaction with his iPhone.
Grant me the grace to accept the ceaseless clicking of his keyboard, whose irregular rhythm recalls for me the fleeting nature of all earthly things. As no man knows the hour of his death, neither can I predict whether the next tap shall come in one second or ten. Thus am I reminded of the uncertainty of life and the vanity of worldly expectations.
Each notification chime, sounding forth like a tiny electronic church bell, calls my attention to the vast web of human relationships. A Facebook message arrives; somewhere, another soul reaches out. A game notification appears; somewhere, another treasure has been harvested. Truly, Lord, all creation is interconnected in ways beyond my understanding.
Yet I confess, O Merciful Father, that when these sounds draw my attention away from You, irritation arises within me. The heat that kindles in my breast reveals not the shortcomings of my neighbor but my own spiritual poverty. For while he merely checks his phone, I inwardly compose speeches, draft complaints, and imagine corrective interventions. Thus do I break Your commandment to love my neighbor while simultaneously judging him for breaking my concentration.
Give me strength, O Lord, to endure another meeting without leaning over afterward and saying, "You know, you can turn that sound off." Preserve me from the temptation to send charitable but highly specific messages containing screenshots of the iOS keyboard settings menu. Deliver me from the evil one, who whispers that a carefully timed AirDrop of a PDF entitled How to Silence Keyboard Clicks in Three Easy Steps would constitute fraternal correction.
Instead, teach me to love these interruptions. Let every click become a prayer bell. Let every notification ding become a summons to humility. Let every surge of annoyance become an occasion for repentance. And if it be Your will, Lord, either remove the clicking from his phone or remove my ability to hear frequencies above 2,000 hertz.
May my patience bear witness to Your power. May my restraint glorify Your name. And may his battery finally reach 1% sometime before the closing handshake.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.