I'm hearing a lot of talk about "thoughts and prayers". And then I see push back in a variety of ways -- heck, I'm among those pushing back.
I also think most of the criticism directed at "thoughts and prayers" isn't religious but political. And as political criticism, you can be sure I sympathize with the objections -- I've even posted a few. I hate American civil religion as much as my atheist and agnostic friends. Specifically, those, like me, objecting to the uselessness of "thoughts and prayers" are directing those criticisms toward political leaders who send statements of concern, condolences and solidarity out on social media and who are perceived as taking no material, political action to prevent such tragedies from happening in the future. For example, politicians send out "thoughts and prayers" to the families of Uvalde but take no meaningful action on gun control. Yeah -- they make my blood boil.
The problem here, though, isn't with prayer. The problem is the dislocation between prayer and moral action. This is not a new problem for Christians: "Faith without works is dead", James wrote. In my imaginary apostolic letter to the church in American, I'd write, "Prayer without works is dead."
And while we're on the subject, I also believe life demands hallowing. We feel this perhaps most acutely during times of shared suffering and trauma. And, like it or not, prayer is how we hallow. When we suffer, we turn to prayer. Always have, always will. With apologies to all my atheist friends, but Nietzsche's nihilism in the face of suffering just isn't a good look. And I think a lot of those same Nietzschean atheists feel stymied and frustrated by this, when they look their metaphysics in the face and recognize they have no non-religious response to suffering as profound, human and hallowing as prayer. This frustration manifests itself in a defensive lashing out at prayer. If you can't match prayer, you can disparage it.
It's irritating to be a Nietzschean atheist when everywhere you look -- on the news, on social media, and even among your friends -- there's a church service breaking out. And the reality settles in: You're never going to get rid of prayer. God just won't go away -- no matter how many times Nietzscheans try to kill him off. (Christians in the crowd are far less surprised by this. We know Jesus' penchant for not staying dead.)
Which brings me to another idea. For those who doubt the power and effectiveness of prayer, don't be an idiot. Don't let your skepticism make you look like a fool. Yes, I understand your metaphysical questions about if my prayer here, hundreds of miles removed from the shooting, for the families of Uvalde will make any material difference. I get it. I have some of the same metaphysical problems with the idea of petitionary prayer. But -- and hear me out here -- go to Uvalde, or any place of human suffering, and tell me that prayer doesn't make a difference. Prayer has and will always make a difference.
I also think most of the criticism directed at "thoughts and prayers" isn't religious but political. And as political criticism, you can be sure I sympathize with the objections -- I've even posted a few. I hate American civil religion as much as my atheist and agnostic friends. Specifically, those, like me, objecting to the uselessness of "thoughts and prayers" are directing those criticisms toward political leaders who send statements of concern, condolences and solidarity out on social media and who are perceived as taking no material, political action to prevent such tragedies from happening in the future. For example, politicians send out "thoughts and prayers" to the families of Uvalde but take no meaningful action on gun control. Yeah -- they make my blood boil.
The problem here, though, isn't with prayer. The problem is the dislocation between prayer and moral action. This is not a new problem for Christians: "Faith without works is dead", James wrote. In my imaginary apostolic letter to the church in American, I'd write, "Prayer without works is dead."
And while we're on the subject, I also believe life demands hallowing. We feel this perhaps most acutely during times of shared suffering and trauma. And, like it or not, prayer is how we hallow. When we suffer, we turn to prayer. Always have, always will. With apologies to all my atheist friends, but Nietzsche's nihilism in the face of suffering just isn't a good look. And I think a lot of those same Nietzschean atheists feel stymied and frustrated by this, when they look their metaphysics in the face and recognize they have no non-religious response to suffering as profound, human and hallowing as prayer. This frustration manifests itself in a defensive lashing out at prayer. If you can't match prayer, you can disparage it.
It's irritating to be a Nietzschean atheist when everywhere you look -- on the news, on social media, and even among your friends -- there's a church service breaking out. And the reality settles in: You're never going to get rid of prayer. God just won't go away -- no matter how many times Nietzscheans try to kill him off. (Christians in the crowd are far less surprised by this. We know Jesus' penchant for not staying dead.)
Which brings me to another idea. For those who doubt the power and effectiveness of prayer, don't be an idiot. Don't let your skepticism make you look like a fool. Yes, I understand your metaphysical questions about if my prayer here, hundreds of miles removed from the shooting, for the families of Uvalde will make any material difference. I get it. I have some of the same metaphysical problems with the idea of petitionary prayer. But -- and hear me out here -- go to Uvalde, or any place of human suffering, and tell me that prayer doesn't make a difference. Prayer has and will always make a difference.