“OLE GOLLY, OLE GOLLY, OLE GOLLY”: So I was re-reading Harriet the Spy, the way one does, and I came to the scene where Harriet awakens from a nightmare screaming the name of her nurse over and over. And yeah, I cried–sue me. (I overidentify with self-centered, half-observant, slightly crazy budding writeresses.) But what I actually want to talk about is not this fantastic children’s novel, but traditional prayer.

I’ve run across Protestants who get it fixed in their heads that prayers like the Hail Mary (but not, I hope, the Our Father!) are the “vain repetitions” condemned in Scripture. I’ve never understood that view, since really, there is nothing less repetitive for me than repeating a traditional prayer.

Sure, I talk to God in all kinds of other ways, bringing up what I’m struggling with or thankful for, the usual mix of praise and thanksgiving and petition. (I’m weirdly blank about contemplative prayer and don’t rightly understand it.) But there are three ways in which repeating a traditional prayer sustains me:

First, traditions always surprise. Traditions remind us of the things we wouldn’t say of our own accord. Most times, when I pray the Hail Mary or the Angelus or what have you, I find that the words of the prayer act like prisms refracting my own concerns and shedding unexpected light. (The rosary is especially good for this, since it’s keyed to a series of different events and experiences that might seem remote from our own lives but that always, always have relevance. How does the Nativity respond to what I’m praying about? What about the Assumption?) Part of the point of traditions is that they break us out of our obvious concerns, the worries and beliefs we know we carry, by offering a different and initially alien perspective.

Another part of the point of traditions is that they tell us what to do when we’re shaky and unsure. Traditional condolences help us express our compassion for the grieving without being self-centered or being misunderstood. (I talked a lot about this stuff in my JWR piece on Miss Manners.) And traditional prayers help us praise God and give thanks and ask for help without worrying about whether we’re saying the right thing, or sounding stupid, or forgetting something.

Finally, and relatedly, I fall back on traditional prayers when I really don’t have the strength or self-confidence to shape my own sentences–when I just feel desperate, composed entirely of need. There have been a lot of times when the Hail Mary is my personal equivalent of “Ole Golly, Ole Golly, Ole Golly!”