Watch almost any television news bulletin and you’ll hear someone praying for
something to happen, or not happen. The background to their prayers is normally a
real or potential tragedy of some sort.
Individuals pray for themselves or those close to them to be cured of life-threatening
illnesses. The relatives of people who have gone missing pray for them to be found
and returned home safely. Families pray that the names of loved ones will not appear
on the lists of those killed in plane crashes. Churchgoers pray for the victims of
natural disasters. World leaders pray for peace.
Prayers are often at odds with one another. A nation prays for victory in war. Its
enemies do the same. Drought-stricken farmers pray for rain. Holiday makers pray
for good weather. Sports fans from opposing teams pray that their team will win.
There is no correlation between prayer and goodness. Saints pray. Suicide bombers
pray. Both expect their reward in heaven.
Our parliamentarians pray, beseeching Almighty God ‘to grant that we may conduct
the affairs this House and of our country to the glory of Thy holy name, the
maintenance of true religion and justice, the honour of the Queen, and the public
welfare, peace and tranquility of New Zealand, through Jesus Christ our Lord.’
No-one who watches parliament could conclude that this prayer has ever been or is
ever likely to be answered.
But then, in Christian theology, prayers can never be answered, since the doctrine of
free will means that God cannot interfere in human affairs. That, at least, is the
justification given by Christian theologians for God’s failure to prevent human
suffering. He cannot interfere. In reality then, Christian prayers are only ever
answered in the sense that something wished for actually happens. What really
determines whether a prayer is answered is luck, fate, karma, being in the right or
wrong place at the right or wrong time – whatever you want to call it. This is the only
way you can explain the randomness of ‘answered’ prayer.
Two hundred more or less equally innocent people are on a plane which disappears
off the radar over the Tasman Sea. A search begins. Across New Zealand and
Australia, relatives of the passengers pray that their husband, wife, son, daughter,
mother, father, sister, brother will be saved. Only ten have their prayer answered.
They and the media describe the survival of the ten people as ‘a miracle’ . The word
has religious connotations, leading people to say, ‘Thank God!’.
This immediately begs the question as to what the attitude should be of the relatives
and friends of the 190 people who perished in the accident. Perhaps they should
curse God? After all, the very concept of answered and unanswered prayer
presupposes a selection process, based on some unknown divine criteria. God
chose to answer the prayers of the relatives of ten of the passengers and not the
prayers of the relatives of the other 190. Why?
Keeping God out of the equation altogether seems to be a more rational approach.
The survival of the ten passengers was a ‘miracle’ only in the sense that it was, like
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all miracles, an outcome hugely against the odds. Crash investigation and the
testimony of the ten survivors is considerably more likely to produce reasons for the
crash and its aftermath in terms of human life than attempting to fathom the mind of
some supernatural being.
I’m an atheist myself, but even if I accepted the existence of an
omnipotent, omnipresent god, I would still be mind-boggled by the
Him/Her responding to ten trillion voice-mails a day asking for ten more
or a win on the Lotto. If I were God, I’d probably regret ever having
sniveling, wheedling, importuning little creatures in the first place.
omniscient,
concept of
years of life
created the
I’d have a point. It’s hard to decide whether talking to God reflects the most
extraordinary hubris or the most abject lack of dignity. As a non-believer I find it a
depressing and demeaning picture – centuries of human beings on their knees,
genuflecting, abasing themselves, trading worship for favours and forgiveness. And
all for nothing.
Of course the trouble with being an atheist is that if you’re wrong you’re going to take
a lot of stick in the afterlife, but if you’re right, you won’t know it, let alone be able to
crow about it. It’s a risk, but on the whole, I think the argument against there being a
god or an afterlife is pretty conclusive. If I’m right, then all that praying and praising
has just been white noise, lost in the ether. Return to sender, address unknown, no
such number, no such zone.
Sad, eh?