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Conversation and Conversion: Some thoughts on prayer

I had intended to do a kind of close study on the words ‘conversion’ and ‘conversation’ in order to tease out how they are related. In scholarly terms, then, I had set out to perform an exegesis of sorts, expounding on the root word that this two share, and then showing from there how one is necessary for the other. As I began writing, however, it occurred to me that such an approach would probably not appeal to people other than theologians and philosophers. More importantly, such a formal exegesis was in fact not necessary to show the close relationship between ‘conversation’ and ‘conversion’, although it would no doubt add depth to our understanding.

In any case, the point was to tie it all back to prayer, because as I mention in the discussion, the decision to write this essay was inspired by musing on the nature of prayer in the first place.

To be sure, I aim here to draw out some insights about prayer by exploring not the etymological but what shall we call it? Ontological, the everyday experiential relationship between the concepts of conversion and conversation.

Let me now get to it.

Conversation

Conversation involves talking, and communication. And communication is not just the sending and reception of a message; rather it involves a two-way exchange of both sent and received messages. There’s something about deep, intimate communication that dwells not only on encoding and decoding stuff, but also and especially on what the very act of talking and listening means at that particular point, and its tone, etc. For example, when two lovers share a phone call, what is being said- especially the mundane stuff- is hardly what matters; the focus (although neither of them says it) is on how it is being said. If there was a fight the previous night, he will try to gauge from the tone of her voice the extent to which he has been forgiven or not; she will try to pick up, from the little tell-tale inflections in his voice, whether the insults she hurled are still lodged in his psyche. All this is going on not just beneath, but over and above the ‘have the dogs been fed today’ and ‘should I get the groceries? This– the ‘have the dogs been fed’ together with the background exchange of micro-clues and subtle statements, is what in my mind constitutes conversation. [This begins to account for why face-to-face interaction seems to have such a different feel to ‘chats’ on Whatsapp, even if the exact same words are used. Also, it accounts for the popularity of ‘emoticons’].

So that covers conversation.

But you will notice a curious thing in the above example: the couple in question does not only try to ‘feel each other out’ through the conversation, but they also- assuming they both want it resolved as soon as possible- become aware that the very act of conversation is part of the recovery from the fight. He and she begin to recognise- in fact, they probably recognise this before talking- that part of getting over the fight last night is simply talking. The topic, as I’ve said, is secondary; the fact and tone of the talking are more important than the ‘what’ of the talking. There is a shared but unspoken awareness that the longer they talk, the more likely his attitude will soften toward her, and the more likely her affections will be reignited for him.

Conversion

It begins to be clear, then, how conversation interacts intimately with what I am calling here ‘conversion’. Let me spend a bit of time on the latter. Of course, there are degrees and contexts for the different types of conversion: I think it’s fair to say that, at its simplest, conversion implies a change of some sort, a turning from one state to another. But we cannot leave it there. At one extreme end of the spectrum, conversion may be said to be a radical altering of identity (in religious terms, the goal of proselytizing). Less dramatic but just as significant, conversion may be the more subtle altering as seen in the example: the softening of defence mechanisms between lovers; the mellowing out of an indignant mother when her infant runs to embrace her after having innocently spilt the jam. In both extreme and subtle instances of conversion, there is a turning of the heart from state a to state b. And so it is that, in this very simplified approach (and I would wager in life generally), conversation and conversion are intimately connected.

The whole point of this essay- and I think this largely accounts for the difficulty I’ve initially expressed in penning these thoughts clearly- the whole point is to show that while a) these two notions are inextricably linked, nonetheless b) they are distinguishable from each other. There is, in a manner of speaking, a conceptual marriage between the two of them, so that while indeed they are in a sense ‘one’ they are by no means the same (as is the case with Christian matrimony). I say they are ‘one’ because you cannot have a conversation without some sort of conversion (negative or positive is another matter); if thus far I have written of them as though conversation necessarily precedes conversion, it has only been for the sake of clarity. In the same breath, you cannot have conversion without conversation: if indeed our couple began the road to reconciliation by a softening of their hearts through the call, imagine how much more blissful their exchange (conversation) will be when he gets home. Conversion- any kind really- almost demands that we share it with someone else: when we fall in love we want to tell it to the world, and if not to the world, then someone. When energy is converted- say from kinetic to sound energy- you hear the tires screech, the engine roar. When the preacher makes the alter call and one feels moved to give his life to Christ, the conversion needs to be verbalized. The alter call isn’t the conversion itself; the response to the alter call, I think, is facilitated, to begin with by a conversion already happening.

That’s all a convoluted way of saying: conversation begets conversion begets conversation begets conversion. And so on.

So what? Why should I be led to expend so much energy and space on showing these two notions to be two distinguishable yet intertwined phenomena? The answer is prayer.

The whole conversation-conversion dynamic occurred to me as I was thinking on this idea of prayer- this at times mystical, at others seemingly foolish and fruitless, but altogether necessary thing that we do; this word that permeates thoughtless dialogue and reverent liturgy alike. I think the conversion-conversation nexus is critical in understanding prayer, insofar as my human mind can grasp heavenly mysteries. In other words, this interplay between conversation and conversion is at the centre of the significance and power of prayer. One cannot pray (conversation) without in the long run being changed (conversion); dialectically, as one sees the fruit of disciplined prayer he is then more convinced of its power (conversion) and thus resolves to pray all the more (conversation).

We may ultimately say that prayer changes a man and, in equal measure, it is the changed man that prays most. To converse with God is to convert our hearts; to change them from self-centredness to godliness. And in the same way, we can never hope to change our own condition (i.e. convert ourselves) without tapping into the power of that holy conversation we call prayer.

The act of saying ‘x’ to God is in itself powerful, notwithstanding what ‘x’ actually is. [This is because even if ‘x’ is not in line with scripture or God’s will, He is afforded the opportunity of correcting us while in the attitude of prayer, or even much later]. To use the vocabulary we are exploring, to converse converts us. And then as we are converted by God we become all the more inclined to converse with Him.

Zama Moyo
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Zama Moyo lives in Johannesburg. He completed his honours in international relations at Wits University. While busy with his honours, Zama was selected as an intern at the South African Institute of International Affairs (SAIIA). He completed his MA in ideology and discourse analysis at the University of Essex in the United Kingdom. Zama has always loved words and penned a number of reflective essays on his personal blog Thought Box. He has also written on a broad range of issues related to current affairs. In 2013 he was selected as a finalist in the Global Human Rights Essay Contest which focused on ‘Human Rights Cities’. He is currently working on his doctoral thesis – On the intersection of ethics and public policy – at the University of Pretoria.

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