"Human freedom is an
essential, aspect of God's creation and as such [J.R.] Lucas argues that there must be an
infinity of possible plans. He likens God's providence to the Persian rugmakers
who start at one end of a carpet while their children start at the other: the
skill of the father is able to accommodate the children's work to create a rug
of great beauty." (James Wood, "The Theology of Prayer and Intercession")
Since the
coming of Jesus, however, the language of petition has been the language of
love. Jesus taught us to call God Abba, Father: not obvious, when you think of
Him as the Creator of the entire universe now revealed by Hubble. He taught us
how to pray, how to ask, and suggested we do it as simply as a child asks its
father for a bun. He also told us that if and when we ask, and ask
insistently, we will receive (though he did not go into detail about what and
how we will receive). Moreover, he showed us how he himself prayed: and, as one
theologian pointed out, the most relevant of his prayers for this question is
in Gethsemane, when he prayed God to let the cup of the Cross pass from him –
“yet not as I will but as Thou wilt”.
Which, of
course, leads us to micro-management, and to Huck Finn’s fish-hooks. Does God
micro-manage the world? In one sense I don’t think so. Jesus tells us that He
sees the fall of every sparrow; but He doesn’t prevent it. Magic may stop the
arrow dead in its flight; but God does not. On the other hand, I don’t think
God stays aloof from the beautiful watch He has made and wound up. John
Polkinghorne, a physicist and theologian, has reminded us that the Deist (and
sometimes atheist) view of God is based on a mechanistic universe, and that in
a quantum universe, where uncertainty plays a major role, a far more dynamic
and subtle view of God is possible.
We do not,
usually, receive fish-hooks if we pray for them, though sometimes we do – which
should make us think seriously about the relation between petitionary prayer
and thanksgiving. But what interests me more today is prayer of intercession
for others. We pray for a sick acquaintance. What do we pray? The simplest
version is, “God, heal Anastasia (or Mrs X) and make her well again.” This may or may not
happen. If it does, we give thanks, usually without questioning what that
implies. If it doesn’t, there are several explanations: our faith wasn’t strong
enough; or her healing at this time was not part of God’s will for her. The former,
though in some places Jesus seems to sanction it, almost reduces prayer to magic. The latter is
very hard for us, with our love for the patient, to understand. Some theologians solve the problem by saying
that God’s sense of time is not ours; others, that God moves in mysterious
ways.
Yes, well,
did we think we would grasp God and His ways? Does the child understand all its
father’s circumstances and considerations? We are told that the great
theological virtues are Faith, Hope, and Love. So why not apply those to our
prayer of intercession? We pray that she may be healed. In that prayer, we do
not attempt to bind God’s Will. We do apply Faith – we trust in God’s love, we
trust Him to act out of the love He has for her. We do apply hope – the true
Hope, which is itself a form of faith, a faith that points to a future, to an
outcome. And we do apply Love, for the very fact of our praying for her is a
putting into motion of the energy of Love. And
that is enough. We cannot do more; we need not do more. As my mother, old
and deep into Alzheimer’s, said to me one night before going to sleep, when I
asked her what she thought about death and after: “I don’t think we’re meant to
know, or to think about that. That’s what faith is for. You go into the dark,
trusting.”
But we have
a restless and a questing mind, and some things I think we are allowed, indeed
encouraged, to think about. If intercessory prayer “works,” how does it work? If a hundred people
pray for Anastasia, what happens? And a
couple of things I read recently gave me an idea about that. First, a sermon I
heard said that God’s love for us is poured out constantly – not only at
certain times of His choosing or our asking. It pours down upon us like the
sun’s light. And if it does not efficaciously reach us, it is because we are
blocking it. So what we can and should pray for is help to stop blocking God’s
love. My second reading was the interview with Jean Vanier, and his insistence
that we regard those unregarded by everyone else or the world in general.
Those two
ideas produced, in my mind, a third: that apart from my blocking the flow of
God’s love for me, there may be more general and/or objective blocks that
prevent that love from reaching me – or you, or Anastasia. And that praying for
her, by one person but especially by more persons, may create a metaphysical
energy that helps dissipate those blocks. What sort of blocks might they be?
Well, as Vanier says, in a class, look at, regard, the kid everyone else makes
fun of. Or, he mentions a 40-year-old paraplegic who has always so far been
treated like something thrown out with the garbage. So one block might be the
world in general, a person’s environment. Or a person’s circumstances. Or,
indeed and startlingly often, a person’s own nature and its idiosyncrasies. I
know several elderly women living alone, of varying prosperity but none of them
poor. All of them have the physical problems that come with age. Three of them
live rich, satisfying lives; two are profoundly and enduringly miserable, in spite
of intelligence, education and talent.
Intercessory
prayer for such people may create or fuel and augment an energy, deeply
pleasing to a loving God, that helps to remove the screens blocking His love
from pouring into their hearts and souls. We can only ever pray that He may
lead them to the knowledge and love of Him, and that His will be done; but we
are asked to do that often and insistently and also, I believe, smilingly (on
His part) allowed to wonder, and ponder, how.
No comments:
Post a Comment