For some reason I was thinking today about the way I used to pray as a little girl...
Raised in the Lutheran church, it's not like I had not been shown the proper way to pray. Address "the Lord," say what's on your mind, sign off with a firm "Amen." Towards the end of most regular services, the pastor opens up a prayer to the congregation during which people name out loud those they wish the church to remember in the prayer. I took this idea home and felt paranoid about listing every single person I knew and/or cared about when praying at bedtime. I remember feeling terribly guilty if I realized in the morning that I forgot someone or if I fell asleep while recalling my acquaintances, friends, and family (and their acquaintances, friends, and family). I'm not sure what worried me most... I think I was concerned that, if I did not name all these people, Gd might leave someone out when doling out blessings.
I always took on a peculiar responsibility when it came to spirituality. I have never blamed the church for my Jesus-complex. I got it in my head when I was young that I had some sort of job to do, a method to protect my loved ones. I didn't want to leave it to Gd... if things didn't go the way I felt were best, I didn't want to blame Gd. It was easier to take on these failures myself. I should have prayed more, I should have said something else, I should have done more, etc.
I haven't grown out of this idea completely... I just leave Gd out of it.
Also, people bow their heads in prayer. I never seemed to understand that. I heard that it was respectful, homage to the king... but for some reason, I figured, if Gd lived in the clouds or somewhere high above us, I should look up. My mother would get quite cross with me if I didn't look her in the eye when we were talking... so, if I was going to stand there and ask for a favor, I probably ought to look in Gd's direction.
I was also concerned about the word "Amen." Even in church, while everyone else felt comfortable with it, I would not say "Amen" at the end of a prayer. I think I felt as though, if I said the word, then Gd would stop listening. Gd would disappear and go elsewhere. I was not willing to think that Gd was omnipresent... I couldn't wrap my head around Gd being both here on the Virginia peninsula and in the middle east or Africa or Japan at the same time.
I guess I was selfish. I wanted Gd's full attention. I was like that boy in Lady Hawk... Matthew Broderick plays the part of this person who talks to Gd constantly, in between other conversations. If I did not say, "Amen," and end the transmission, maybe Gd could listen to me all the time.
I don't know what put this idea in my head. You'd think, since I knew that the word meant "So be it," that I would think of it as my "wish-granting" magic spell. Other people seemed to... I heard all sorts of jargon about "Ask and it shall be given." I was under the impression that most people believed that, if you believed hard enough when you prayed, that Gd answered your requests.
That was always a little too "I believe in fairies" for me. I thought of Gd as a person. Someone who deserved the same consideration and respect as anyone else. Surely Gd gets tired, Gd gets busy, Gd gets overwhelmed... one must be compassionate for such an insane schedule, for the demands on Gd's time and energy. I have no idea why I thought this way... I can't think of anything that might have influenced me.
As I became older, I confronted the idea of prayer being my responsibility to grant wishes for other people. After fighting back and forth with the idea that Gd exists at all, I still see prayer as a valuable exercise. Time to focus your thoughts... and often answer your questions yourself. There's probably no way to safeguard ourselves through this sort of meditation, or our loved ones. It would be nice to believe that, by thinking of one another, our good thoughts emit a good energy, putting us all in a better place to protect ourselves.
I hope to hear other stories of things people used to believe in their youth... Perhaps someone thought tithing went towards Gd's "school of angels" or that Gd looks like George Burns...?
2 comments:
God was always referred to as "he" so I only prayed to Mary and St. Joan of Arc because I thought they would rather listen to a little girl, since they were once little girls. I chose Joan because she is my patron saint and because I thought she was a stronger person than Mary would've been. I also made up my own explanations for things. Clouds were made from factory smoke stacks. Sunbeams through clouds were people going to heaven, lightning striking the ground was someone going to hell and fog meant an angel had lowered their cloud to visit someone.
How interesting... as a child, I think I believed Gd was a little girl like me... though "He" eventually became a father replacement. I used to think sunbeams breaking through the clouds were my deceased loved ones... letting their feet dangle into the atmosphere like we might dip our feet into a pond... just looking down and checking on me. I don't think I ever really believed in hell... I didn't think it made sense. Heaven doesn't either, but a Part II might seem like a better idea. Now, I think when I hear lightning strike, I'll believe that you are somewhere brainstorming something creative and ingenious... like you do. :)
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