I do not know how to pray.

I do not know what to say.

I do not have much time.

So?

This candle I light is:

something of what I have

something of my time

something of myself

that I leave before the Lord.

This light that shines

stands for my prayer

that I continue to offer

even as I leave this place.

Who chooses to light a candle in a church? Men as well as women. Young as well as old. Those at society’s edge as well as those who belong easily. Those on the fringes of faith as well as those already deeply committed. Whether it’s relationship breakdown or the troubling diagnosis of a friend; whether it’s a grief that will not lift or scenes on our screens too distressing to bear, the longing for light in darkness unites us.

Lighting a candle is a creative act of defiance, a sign of hope. And it is invaluable when words fail us - as this prayer expresses so clearly.  “Je ne sais pas comment prier,” it begins in French - “I do not know how to pray.” Maybe such a reflection does not technically count as a prayer and yet the simple honesty of the first three lines reveals an open heart and a longing for connection with God which is deeply prayerful in itself.

Those who read these words beside lit candles in churches across France are bound to be encouraged by them and feel connected to those who’ve already read them that day and from whose candle their own candle will be kindled. A human chain of prayer comes into being, linking those who share a deep and often wordless instinct to hold their darkness in the light of Christ.

Listen below to a chant from Taizé about that light.