Is Prayer That Great?

Prayer is not always a good idea. Somebody has to say it.
Many of my objections are in the phrase, Prayer is talking to God, and Meditation is Listening. We love to talk, and don’t have time to listen. Talking is yang, active, power. Listening is ying, receptive, passive, and indicates respect for the person you are paying attention to.
No one ever says I am going to meditate for you. Although maybe you should.
Prayer is used as an aggressive weapon. “I am going to pray for you” is the condescending conclusion of many religious arguments. I have had it shouted at me like a curse.
There is also the matter of prayer as entertainment. While this may be cool to those who are on the program, it can be repulsive to others. Once I volunteered to lead the prayer before a dinner. The story is repeated below.
Now, prayer is not a completely bad thing. One of the cherished memories of my father is the brief, commonsense blessings he would give before meals. In the context of a church service, prayer plays a useful function. Some famous prayers are beautiful poetry. In Islam, the daily prayers are an important part of the observance. Who am I to say it is wrong? (A note to the Muslim haters, and other opportunists …We are all God’s children.)
When someone is in a bad way, people want to think they can help. While it does not hurt to pray for someone, but it is nothing to boast about.
The problem is when people are proud of their prayers. There are few as prideful as a “humble servant.” While it may mean something to you, not everyone is impressed. And in a religion devoted to converting others, you should care what people think.

So much for world affairs. It is time to tell a story, with no moral and no redeeming social value. In 1980, I was staying at a place called the Sea Haven Hostel, affectionately known as Sleaze Haven. This was in Seattle WA, as far as you can get from Atlanta, and still be in the lower 48. I was working through Manpower, and staying in a semi-private room for $68 a month.
There was a Christian group that met in the basement on Sunday Night. Now, as some of you may know, I am a recovering baptist, who hasn’t been to church since 1971. However, the lure of a free meal was hard to resist, so I went to a few meetings.
One night, after sampling the neighborhood beer supply, I cheerfully joined in the discussion. This was the night when I realized that the Bible is not “the Word of God.” This concept has been very handy in dealing with the ravings of our Jesus-mad culture.
They seemed to like me, though, and welcomed me back. Maybe it was the southern accent.
One Sunday, after the dinner was finished , it was time to have a prayer to begin the meeting. I raised my hand. Now, believers enjoy prayer as entertainment. When they bow their heads, you see them stretching, in anticipation of a good, long, message for God.
My prayer was a bit of a disappointment. Instead of a long winded lecture about Jesus and the magic book, I said what was on my mind. “Lord, thank you for letting us be here today.” What else do you need to say? This double repost has pictures from The Library of Congress.