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Essays, Opinion, & Commentary |
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January 24, 2005
by Carol Hoenig
I haven't prayed in years, unless the occasional internal expression of thanks could be considered prayer. As a child being raised in the Roman Catholic Church, I repeated the formulaic prayers repetitively taught to me, the phrases nonsensical, the words, empty. While sitting in the cold and drafty house of worship of my youth, I rarely felt a sense of wonder in how everything came to be--it was more those times when I sat outside on the cement steps leading to our front porch and gazed up at the wide expanse of blue sky. In the mind of a child, I pictured God being able to fill up that sky and imagined His hand reaching down, touching me. I wasn't sure what would happen once the miracle would have occurred, but it was my way of yearning Him. Whether the search for a higher being is something that's innate in all of us or not, or whether it is simply a topic I'm driven to, I cannot say, but once I became a teenager the magnitude of God the Father was eclipsed by Jesus the son. Jesus Christ Superstar, Jesus is all right by me and Spirit in the Sky were my anthems at the time. Hey, Jesus was cool. With those crystal blue eyes and long brown hair, he was the epitome of being a free-spirited hippie. It was a time when I abandoned the autonomic words of the Hail Mary, Our Father and Act of Contrition and began to "wing it." My prayers included asking for anything from protection and good health, to good weather so that I could take that motorcycle ride promised by the cute guy who'd asked me. As I grew into a young woman, I began to think that perhaps my requests were somewhat selfish, but I continued on in my spiritual journey and began to attend a fundamentalist-believing church. I was hooked from the beginning when the pastor preached from the pulpit that God cared about everything going on in our lives. After all, if His eye is on the sparrow, then it certainly is on me. But time went by and while thousands of supplications passed from my lips to God's ears, I began to wonder if I could actually change God's mind by falling to my knees and asking whatever I needed to ask. My requests, though, were no longer silly desires, but more the need to make sense of it all. The most difficult of questions was asking God what He was doing during the centuries of horrific atrocities. It's great that the sparrow has His eye, that He knows the number of hairs on our heads and that He knows our heart, but what do we really know about Him? I'm not even sure we have any ability to redirect His course of action by supplicating Him. Of course, it depends on whether one believes in predestination or not. Some believe we are on a course that is directed by the one who created the heavens and the earth and trust that it is a course to be traveled and cannot be changed. It's all about it being His will. Then there are those who pray for a parking space at the mall. I've been in the cars of these people, heard the prayers. And when the space did not become available, there was the reasoning that the Lord must have been saving the space for someone who needed it more. A much more serious situation was when another friend was praying for the healing of a brother who'd been diagnosed with a brain tumor. The prayers were fervent, Bible promises relied upon and faith services filled with praise for anticipated answered prayer, but the brother still succumbed to the tumor. First, there came the reasoning that it had to have been God's will, which eventually turned to self-flagellation by the surviving brother, believing that somehow his niggling doubts in God being able to heal was what eventually led to the brother's death. There is often this thinking of God as being this great Santa Claus in the sky, a wish list in his mighty hand and the ability to deliver when approached, depending on the circumstances. Yet, some who are devout believers do not get the answers they are seeking while others who barely recognize any supreme being at all are able to overcome their tribulations. So, where do prayer and God fit in all of this? This brings to mind a talk show host and her callous comment after the tsunami wrecked the lives of thousands of people. She reminded both her co-hosts and viewers that had the tsunami occurred just a month earlier, she would have been in its path while in Thailand on her honeymoon. She then raised a hand heavenward and made the comment about God being good. So, even though hundreds of thousands were not spared, but she was, God is good? I see it more as arbitrary, that nature was doing what nature does and human life happened to be in its path, while she'd escaped it. Either way, if she had wanted to keep God in the equation, this talk show host should have said a silent prayer of thanks and leave it at that. Some may call me blasphemous and arrogant for questioning God. Those same critics may also try to remind me that there are no atheists in foxholes. In spite of this, I do not believe I can be slotted in any particular group, unless truth-seeker is one of the categories. I'm reluctant to ask for anything from any higher being; even though I have needs, I don't feel I have the right. Whether it's for the availability of a parking space, the longing for a clear sky, or hoping for the tumor to be benign, do I have the power to will God? And if the parking space is not available, the sky opens up with a downpour and the doctor calls with frightening news, what then? Do I attempt to give a voice, an explanation that is, on God's behalf? No. That's a precarious endeavor. Instead, I'll ride the wave known as life and appreciate what is and make the best of what isn't. If I feel a need to reach out, I'll simply whisper, "thank you."
Carol Hoenig is a contributor for Raw Story. Woman This Month, a publication based out of Bahrain, has recently acquired her essay, "Old Friends," and will be publishing it for its December '04 issue. Another essay will be published in the Feb. 05 issue of Generation X Journal. Besides writing essays, articles and commentaries, Carol is working on her third novel. You may reach her at Carolhoen@AOL.com. This essay is copyright (c) 2005 by Carol Hoenig. Published here by permission of the author. Enrich your life with a book about religion... Enrich your life with a religion magazine...
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