In August, I recounted how the struggles of a wood louse and a spider so occupied my attention, as to take my mind completely off an Episcopal sermon. This month I recall how at a recent chapel service, I remembered some words but totally failed to get the message.
During the service, church members individually stood to express their personal concerns by praying aloud. They did not use the language of the Prayer Book but, like many Christians, used everyday language. However, the words were from the heart and so my mind was kindly disposed to listen.
My calm however was rocked when one gentleman stood, and in a voice reminiscent of the Kop at Anfield pronounced, “Hi God!” He then continued in similar matey terms, as though the Almighty had, both a parochial vocabulary and, a hearing problem. However, there was no doubting the man’s sincerity or that during his prayer he had a picture of God in his mind.
Unfortunately, I was incapable of sharing his picture. This was not because I did not want to, it was simply that my mind had stopped listening to the words and instead, started to analyse their style. Why, I wondered was the man, whom I knew to have a good grasp of English, not exploring its depth, breadth and nuances during his chat with God?
Subsequently I mused about the language of prayer, and remembered that the Japanese have a special vocabulary solely for use during moments of gravitas and deepest significance. However, this vocabulary is also used by Japanese poets. Similarly, the poet in me loves the formality, cadences and rhythms of the Book of Common Prayer, especially at key moments in life. However, a style of prayer is a personal choice and each to his own.
But, whatever our style of prayer I am sure that we must be clear as to its purpose, and at the same time, we must take care not to presume what God’s response to our prayer will be. The dangers of trying to do God’s thinking for him can be seen in the story of the Mother who tried to second-guess the mind of her daughter.
The little girl had a lively pet Jack Russell named Rupert and one day whilst the girl was at school, the dog unexpectedly died. The mother agonised on how best to tell the gentle spirited child. With these concerns weighing heavily on her mind and confident that the girl would be heartbroken, she determined to break the news slowly.
When the girl skipped in from school the mother sat her down and carefully said, “I have some very sad news for you and you must try hard not to cry: Rupert has died, but you’re not to worry because he’s gone to Jesus.”
The girl froze, went silent and Mum feared the worst until, after a long silence and with a puzzled expression on her face, the girl replied, “What on earth would Jesus want with a dead dog?”
View from the Pew 