Psalm 17 – Investigating Prayer

¹ Hear me, Lord, my plea is just;
    listen to my cry.
Hear my prayer—
    it does not rise from deceitful lips.
² Let my vindication come from you;
    may your eyes see what is right.
(Read the rest of the chapter, here.)

My personal attitude towards prayer

I mentioned in my last post that I’m not great at praying.  It’s part of my spiritual practice I would like to improve.  I imagine it’s a common enough predicament, especially in progressive Christian communities.  Some people are completely comfortable talking to God like an old friend, in their head or out loud.  Others are unembarrassed to publicly call on Jesus in praise or request. My favorite is how casually some people can attribute events to divine acts of intercession, in the middle of regular, secular conversation.

None of those things come naturally to me.  Quite frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever be someone who says something like “I was blessed to be born and American,” but mainly because these statements of “blessing” imply that God loves the bless-ee more than the non-bless-ees.  Does God love Americans more than the Syrians?  The Chinese?  I don’t think so.  Perhaps Xe did make certain individuals certain nationalities as part of Xyr divine plan, but I think saying we were lucky enough to be (fill in the blank here) is a more accurate statement, and by no means negates God’s divine will.  But I digress.  We were talking about prayer.

The documented benefits of prayer

For those that like solid facts, there are actually documented benefits of prayer.  And no, not anecdotal stories of “God answering my prayers” (though feel-good stories of that nature abound, too), but scientifically proven benefits.  Engaging in prayer reduces our heart rate and blood pressure, increases dopamine levels, and may even help to deactivate genes that trigger inflammation and prompt cell death.  (A wonderful overview of the effects of prayer are in this Huffpost article.)

The above-mentioned article says that the jury is still out on the efficacy of praying for other people; that only half the studies on the subject have documented a noticeable improvement in groups that are prayed for vs. those that are not.  But honestly, seeing positive differences in half the studies, is, I think, pretty encouraging.  In this scientific article on prayer and healing, co-authors Andrade and Radhakrisknan make some interesting points (both pro- and con-) regarding the limitations in scientifically studying the effects of remote prayer. For example, the overlap of first names (say, John) in both control and prayed-for groups.

So, if enough people are praying for the same thing, can it make a difference in the world?  A while ago, I would have said no, rather abashedly, because I feel as a Christian it’s something I should believe.  But there was another study, not specifically about prayer but about expectation, that changed my mind.  In this study, researchers were told some rats were incredibly smart while others were incredibly dumb (even though they were all, in fact, pretty average rats).  The expectations of the researchers impacted the performance of the rats: the ones expected to be smarter performed better, and the ones expected to be dumb performed worse.  This was explained through subtle shifts in the way the researchers handled the rats based on their perception of them.  So no, neither prayer or expectation opens the door to some sort of magical telekinesis or mind control, but it does change us.  Perhaps if we pray for healing, we will find more opportunities to heal.  Perhaps if we pray for peace, we will be more peaceful ourselves.  Perhaps if we pray for miracles, our eyes will be opened to the daily miracles happening around us.  And just perhaps, if enough people are united in prayer throughout the world, we will be agents of God’s divine plan of universal reconciliation.

In short, I think prayer should be our first – and last – resort.  Let me explain:  I think prayer should lead our actions, and then when all actions are exhausted, we can return to prayer.  I actually agree with a lot of critics of prayer when they say prayer can lead to inaction and dismissal.  “Thoughts and prayers” has become an empty phrase people mock (and rightfully so) after every new tragedy.  If praying is truly all you can do, then yes, please, pray away!  But if you are praying in a truly open, reflecting, and receptive way, I think that more often than not, you will be moved to seek more ways to participate in whatever challenge that’s gotten you to praying in the first place.

How to start praying

So great, I’ve sold you on the benefits of praying, but where to start?  As mentioned above, I’m no expert, so I’m hoping my advice makes up in authenticity what it lacks in experience.  There are two techniques for easy entry into praying:

1. Gratitude prayers.  This can be as easy as saying thank you for….anything.  Or nothing at all, just a “thank you” in your head or out loud.  You don’t even have to start with “Dear God,” if you don’t want to.  I often quietly thank God when I’m outside on the daily walks I take with the girls or when I’m working in the garden, because that is when I am most likely to be struck by the beauty or abundance of creation.  I’ve thanked God for mild breezes, warm sunshine, pea shoots, rich compost, and a full rain barrel, among other things.  Also, if you’re in a dark place, gratitude praying can sometimes help you climb out of that hole because it forces you to find something to be grateful for.  A few weeks ago I stormed out of the house, mad as hell.  After walking a while I forced myself to say some thank you’s.  I was first thankful for the bracing cold air coming off the river.  Then I was thankful for an outside space to which I could run, then for the freedom to be able to move about that space….and soon enough there was more to be thankful for than mad about.
2. Rote prayers.  I don’t know many rote prayers.  Honestly only the last verse of Psalm Four, and the Lord’s Prayer.  Oh, and I guess the Catholic, Anglican, and broader Protestant dinner blessings that all children of said faiths can rattle off by the time they are five.  I turn to the Lord’s Prayer and Psalm Four when I need to recenter, when I’m too distracted or anxious to come up with something original.  But if all you know is “God is great, God is good…” start with that.  It is a blessing, after all, and repeating a blessing over and over again to help calm yourself down can’t be bad, even if it is a bit out of context.

Today is Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week.  It commemorates Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, and the beginning of his last days.  It was a time in which we see Jesus pray often – with his disciples at the Last Supper, privately the night he was arrested, and even when on the cross.  Jesus makes prayer look natural….but then again, he is Jesus.  Wherever, or however you start praying, just start. You’re not going to sound like Jesus, especially not at first.  But as with any other habits, practice makes perfect.  The important thing to remember is this: that praying (yes, your praying, however imperfect it may be) is making a difference in the world, even if that difference is “only” in yourself.

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Job 16 – Do Not Cover My Blood

“Earth, do not cover my blood;
    may my cry never be laid to rest!
¹⁹ Even now my witness is in heaven;
    my advocate is on high.
(Read the rest of the chapter, here.)

Just like Job’s friends, collectively we have made miserable comforters.  Job says “God has turned me over to evil men and thrown me to the clutches of the wicked.”  He points out the visceral signs of his unjust punishment: “my face is red with weeping, deep shadows ring my eyes, yet my hands have been free of violence, and my prayer pure.”  Even so, his friends stand idly by, offering false piety and thinly veiled scorn instead of truly loving help.  Couldn’t Job’s words be used to condemn us, in the broadest sense of the word, in our apathy towards our fellow man?

I’ve been paying more attention to the news as the corona virus continues to spread, and as I learn to use Twitter better (it’s not my favorite social media but I feel it necessary for the blog…Instagram is my natural habitat).  This renewed awareness reminded me of all the unanswered cries that are still being called out, and I’m ashamed of how little I’ve cared to know.

The rapid spread of the corona virus is a big deal, I’m not trying to make light of it.  But please, do not panic, and do not put your compassion on hold.  A few stats from Johns Hopkins to put things in perspective: As of February 26, 2020, there have been 81,322 cases reported world-wide, with 2,770 deaths (none of which have yet occurred in the US).  The flu, on the other hand, a virus mutation we see pop up every year that hasn’t caused global panic since World War I, has an estimated one billion cases worldwide per year, with up to 646,000 deaths annually, worldwide.  They are sobering statistics, and I truly debated sharing them because it may do more to fan the flames of fear than to calm them.  My hope is that it will remind you, my reader, that we function in a world full of contractible, deadly viruses already.  It is a fact of life that demands more compassion from us, not less-just make sure to wash your hands.

Don’t let the corona virus blind you to the ongoing injustices in the world. A quick run-down of the stories I’ve been following.  And again, there are a lot more that we could get into, but this is what I’ve been able to read about in between the hustle and bustle of daily life with two kids and a farm:

1. The latest humanitarian crisis in Syria – there is a lot of biased information out there.  Just a simple search on the subject returns not only articles from the BBC, which I generally trust, but also front-page hits from Russian outfits like Sputnik and RT, which I don’t trust as much.  Given our own president’s lukewarm (at best) interest in Syria, it’s not a topic that gets the attention appropriate to the magnitude of the crisis.  As best as I can gather, almost one million people have been recently displaced by fighting in the northern province of Idlib.  It is winter, and people are having to spend nights in below-freezing temperatures without food or shelter.  Children are dying from cold, others are so traumatized they’ve stopped speaking.  Pregnant mothers are under enough stress to cause premature births and miscarriages.
2. The ongoing border crisis, especially as it pertains to children – Technically, the Trump administration ended its policy of separating families at the border in June 2018.  But over 1,000 families have still been separated since that time, including the heartbreaking case of the parents who were deported, after being promised as part of their deportation deal to be reunited with their four-month-old son, without him.
3. Wet’suwet’en blockades in Canada – In short, the Wet’suwet’en have been protesting Canada and oil companies seizing unceded lands for pipeline projects.  Part of this protest has taken the form of rail blockades, which are seriously impacting the economic realities of Canada.  It is hard to get truly impartial news on this issue, as well.  It’s receiving very little main-stream media coverage from outside Canada and most Canadian news sources are skewed to favor the Canadian government and Canadian business interests.  I support the Wet’suwet’en people’s right to defend their territory because it is the sovereign right of any country or people to do so when threatened with invasion.  I further support it because they are doing important ecological work in protecting fragile ecosystems from the damages that come with pipelines, including leaks and spills, groundwater contamination, and habitat disturbance.  The IG account of @smogelgem provides a real-time account of what is actually happening, with opportunities to support the protesters whether you live near or far.

We all get compassion fatigue.  We all need to take care of ourselves – you can’t pour from an empty cup, etc etc.  But we can also all try better.  Do a little more.  Especially at a time when the world is facing a global pandemic.  You see, I’m worried that this corona outbreak is going to make people become insular, less willing to reach out and help those in need and more likely to protect their own interests.  This is not the time to be callous.

I try very hard not to ask you to do more than I do, so let me list for you the mini-activisms I did while writing this blogpost.  Actually, before I do, I want to remind you that I do not list this stuff to brag.  I just want to show that you really can do it, too, even if I have to guilt you into it.  I currently have a cold, as does my oldest.  I’m trying to stay on top of laundry and make dinner every night and get insurance for our new commercial kitchen and deal with the leak in my freezer trailer, but I still made time to make a little effort.  If I can do this, then so can you:

I made a small donation to the White Helmets, a boots-on-the-ground organization in Syria dedicated to helping innocent civilians.  I also called my representatives, saying that I think more needs to be done to support Syrian civilians and the work of the White Helmets.  I did my research, and read the stories coming not only out of Syria but from the border, and from Canada. More than anything, I’m talking about it.  Again, I say this not to brag, but to show you what a hassled mom with limited bandwidth can manage.  I may not be able to be out there marching in protests, pulling people from bombed rubble, or providing pro-bono legal council, but I can support those who are.  So now I ask you, can you make a small donation to the White Helmets (the IRC is another good one)? Can you share a #wetsuwetenstrong post on Instagram? Can you call your representatives and tell them that children being held in detention centers at the border is unacceptable?  Together, we can do our part to make sure the cries of the downtrodden are never laid to rest, but answered.

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Job 15 – The Highly Literary Job

⁷ “Are you the first man ever born?
    Were you brought forth before the hills?
⁸ Do you listen in on God’s council?
    Do you have a monopoly on wisdom?
⁹ What do you know that we do not know?
    What insights do you have that we do not have? (Read the rest of the chapter, here.)

Welcome to Lent 2020.  If you’re new to the blog, I started reading Job last Lent, and will continue for this year and the next.  It’s one of the few readings that has been pre-planned on this blog (but, in a lack of time and foresight, not written more than 24-48 hours ahead of time).  I picked Job because it is a book about suffering and patience, a book where Job spends much of his time away from God, being tested by Satan, which seems a good topic for the time of year remembering Jesus’ 40 days in the desert.

I strongly encourage you to go back and read through the first 14 chapters of Job and the corresponding blog posts.  I just did, to refresh myself on what is happening in Job and some of the things I discussed.  I forgot that some of my favorite revelations from last year actually came through Job, such as finding another way to think about Satan, and discovering the term pluralistic ignorance while finding ways to speak out against injustice without having to actually speak.  I was also reminded that Job was a highly stylized book, and just wanted to point some of these literary elements out to you.

First, the overall structure of the book is very symmetrical.  This is easy to lose track of when you’re doing a deep reading of a book, chapter by chapter, but a brief read-through reminded me of that fact.  It starts with a prologue in the divine court, in which Job loses all he has, then there are three speech cycles between Job and his friends, all of which go Eliphaz-Job-Bildad-Job-Zophar-Job, with Zophar’s last speech being replaced by Elihu’s, and then the closing scene brings God back in, restoring Job’s fortune and mirroring the divine court from the beginning.  It also seems very much like a legal trial: God delivers the charge, then stands back and listens impartially to the arguments from both sides (Job and his friends’), allowing for Job and Elihu to make closing statements. God then delivers his verdict.

Second, we can view Job’s friends as literary agents that remind us of what exactly is going on here (Job’s faith is being tested by Satan while God observes) and to goad Job to more and more impassioned speeches. In their false comfort they allude to several things that we know as readers, but that Job does not. This chapter is a perfect example.  “Do you listen in on God’s council?” Eliphaz asks, reminding us that yes, actually, the readers did get to listen in on God’s council.  “What do you know that we do not know?” He asks a line later.  He is, of course, talking to Job, but if we could answer that question, the answer would be a lot. Earlier, Zophar says “Oh, how I wish that God would speak, that he would open his lips against you and disclose to you the secrets of wisdom.”  Well, we know that God is going to do that.  The friends also make several overt court references, reminding the reader that we are essentially witnessing a court case in action.  The word “court” is used by Zophar in 11:10 and Eliphaz in 5:4, and other court-like words (“charge,” “guilt,” “prison”) appear throughout the text.  Every time Job’s friends break that fourth wall, to borrow a term from theater, they draw our attention to the broader drama of the story.

Finally, it is important to remember that the story of Job may date back to as long ago as 2000 BC.  As it was told and re-told, and traveled between different groups, different traditions may have sprung up in its telling.  When it was codified into writing, it is possible that the compilers may have tried to stitch some of those traditions together.  I wonder about this when Elihu suddenly pops up, almost without introduction, to start speaking in chapter 32.  Was he always a fourth companion, and if so, why wasn’t he introduced at the beginning?  Was he sometimes the third companion, replacing Zophar in some of the tellings?  We’ll talk more about Elihu when we get to him, but I just point him out here to remind you of the long and complex history Job has had in its construct.

Which, I suppose inevitably, leads us to the question we all seem driven to ask about the Bible – is it true?  Did Job really exist, and did God really test him? I don’t see why he couldn’t have existed, but I think we miss the larger point.  Job, if he was a real person long, long ago, has grown into a myth larger than himself, like Johnny Appleseed or Paul Bunyan.  Job has become an allegory for our own trials in life, a way to explain the endurance of faith, the justice of God, and the evils that befall innocent people.  I’m looking forward to starting it back up again, much more so than I was when beginning it last year.  I hope you’ll join me in reading it this Lent, and discover the literary prowess, beauty, and greater truths that Job has to reveal to us.