My readers must be forewarned that this post will be nothing approaching inspirational. I'm just laughing at myself a bit - perhaps to show solidarity with others who have similar conflicts (though they might be less prone to admit this.)
As my 'regulars' know, I have great admiration for those with trusting, childlike faith. I've often mentioned how my mother turned to the Infant of Prague (from whom she received the most amazing results), Saint Gerard (ditto), and Saint Anthony (despite that she scolded him regularly if he did not come through on time.) For Chip, the heavenly friends were a supportive extended family. Much as one would on earth, one would go to whomever was the best connected for needs in a particular area. (That the Infant of Prague was Jesus, therefore Logos, Second Person of the Trinity, and so forth wasn't always on her mind. For some reason, this aspect of Him was more accessible - perhaps because he was an adorable little child here, not a cheeky kid of twelve in the temple who let his parents worry, nor a radical preacher whose mother always had to fear his fate, nor a tortured Christus.)
I may as well admit this - intercessory prayer (or that of petition, since I'm so pedantic that I cannot refrain from noting the difference) rather frightens me. Part of it, of course, is the 'guilt trip' attitude that we leftover 1960s liberals cannot quite shake. (May I never 'shake' the ideals - but the 'here I am praying for this or that when someone is starving in Bangladesh' guilt, the more because I picture the radical Jesus smacking me, is one of which I'd gladly be rid.) The other part is that I am hopelessly superstitious, as I revealed a few years back in my post about the Evil Eye.
Considering how petitions are a constant part of the liturgy, and how many great saints devoted much time to intercessory prayer, I am at a loss to describe why asking for anything gives me the uneasy fear that I'm 'casting a spell' - and that it shall backfire. Though it has been years since I read this story, I remember enough of "The Monkey's Paw" to see that such dark thoughts as that tale expressed cloud my petitions. That story begins with a family in need asking for money - and getting it through their son's violent (accidental) death. It ends with their wishing on the magical paw that their son return to them... and his returning in quite a horrid condition, to say the least.
Some years ago, one of my cousins (whose name happens to be Theresa) sent me a novena to Saint Thérèse. It was of the 'say it for five hours on five days' variety - for those with darkness of thought such as mine (which oddly often is another side of those of us most prone to wit and laughter!), I suppose the 'five times five times five' seemed vaguely like a spell. (Why this never worried me when my mother said the novena to the Infant nine times, once each hour, remains unknown.) Well, there was a very important petition that I had at the time, and indeed I said that novena, just as it was published, and much as that goes against my usual grain. On the fifth day, I had something happen which was perhaps the most painful experience of my life up to that time. (I'm not alone - someone else I knew found that, on the fifth day, her child, for whom she had been praying, died. I don't mean the novena caused it, of course, but let's just say that I doubt either one of us would repeat the process.)
I'll admit that, just this morning, a dear friend of mine (easily the loveliest lady on earth) sent me a 'make a wish, say this prayer, then forward it to twelve others.' I'll equally admit, and this most painfully for someone who has studied so much logic, that I did so. But you can imagine my distress making that wish! Do I wish for some unexpected money, with cash so tight? (I remembered the monkey's paw and decided against that one... I have no family members left and no one's death will put money in my pocket, as in that gruesome story, but Lord only knows what horrors might arise...) I am utterly frustrated by the plateau in my weight loss, which is upsetting me to no end, but dare I wish for weight loss, when that could mean either a famine, greater poverty, or cancer? No, best not try that one. I finally wished to be free of a most distracting 'principal defect' of mine. I'm already fearful of what horrid thing might happen to make that come about... I hope I don't end up comatose or something...
I hope none of you are taking this too literally! But, for all that I remember a line from somewhere about how a Father doesn't give one a snake when one asks for a fish, how the goblins from childhood can haunt us! The email I received said to 'watch what happens on the fourth day' - oh, heavens, it is Friday... the 13th...
The oddest part is that the prayer I was sent is perfectly charming - so much so that I'll share it here.
May today bring you peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.
I'm not about to speculate about knowledge settling into my bones... the more because I'm not only superstitious but arthritic, and inclined to the poetic while thinking certain means of expression are a bit clumsy. Yet I definitely would adopt 'sing, dance, pray, and love' as a motto were I inclined to such things (and even though no one would ever care to see me dance... though they might not mind, even now, hearing me sing...)
Blast all those stories I heard in my childhood, supposed to be inspirational! Every gift one had was sacrificed - and then one thanked God, in most syrupy terms, for humility. Parents came to huge conversion, if not sanctity, when a child was murdered. "I got nothing that I asked for, yet everything I hoped for..." prayers were popular.
Where I got the bizarre idea that prayers were something like spells is beyond me! But the 'thy will be done' (much less 'not as I will' in Gethsemane - though here I'm referring to the obligatory 'but thy will be done' with which one had to end all prayers, not to the Paternoster) always had an undertone of 'don't be offended if I asked something out of accord with Your will... and, after all, when does anyone speak of God's will to mean anything good or happy?'
No one in my family feared God, as far as I know. But they never mentioned anything good (health, what little we could call wealth, good looks, whatever) without making the sign against the evil eye. It wasn't that God would snatch the good away - for peasants, it certainly isn't God who causes poverty, illness, or anything else with which one must deal (even if those indirectly responsible might have had church ties... they were not unknown to own the lands tenant farmers worked.) It was the envy of others one must fear.
Perhaps this pathetic post will reassure others that those of us who have a passion for theology are no less prone to spiritual paranoia than anyone else who grew in faith but has a part of himself which never grew up. That's most of us...
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