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Thursday, September 6, 2012

Thor's Day: Prayer

Last week, as I went out one morning to check the trap I'd set the night before, I felt an impulse to pray, to pray that the trap would be empty. For, though I'd agreed with my wife that we would try to remove the rabbits from our back yard, I still hated the thought of their being made to leave their Eden. I especially hated to think that the first one trapped would be taken to a nearby wood and released alone, away from its family.
    The impulse to pray?
    I suppose it could have been an impulse, from when I was an infant and utterly dependent on a parent, primarily my mother, as for all human infants. Godlike, our mothers knew when we needed holding, feeding, changing. We hardly ever needed to actually pray. And, when we did, it always seemed to work, eventually. Or, at least I hope it did for you, too.
    If a human infant's first experience of "God" is in the form of its mother, then why is it God the Father?
    God the Father came later, when my natural impulse to believe and to pray were corrected, not only by Sunday School lessons but also by my mother, who had of course been corrected later in her time too. Prayer was to God the Father. (Unless you were Catholic, in which case you were permitted to pray to Mother Mary.)
    At that point, through correction, prayer became more of an instructed, ritualized habit than an impulse.


So maybe my involuntary thought, the morning I went out to check the trap, was prompted by the old habit of calling on a "higher power" in a moment of need or hope. I hoped the trap would be empty. I needed it to be empty to spare me the emotion of removing from "our" property another creature who, it seemed to me, deserved as much as I to enjoy the place.
    Oh, let the trap be empty.
    I also, from time to time, in moments of emotion
, out of habit not yet expunged, say, "God! How can [fill in the blank]!" "God" there, of course, is not an address, but an interjection. I don't address God, I don't write letters anymore to something not there to hear, care, or respond.
     I don't pray, even though I occasionally suffer the impulse or the habit of starting to express a plea for assistance. In some way, I'm still—we're still—children.

In any case, the trap wasn't empty that morning.
    I gently lifted the wire cage out of the bushes alongside the fence and set it on a large towel. The frightened bunny moved about the cage, the sound of its scurrying tearing at my heart. I draped the towel over the cage, and the rabbit calmed and became quiet. And my heart slowed too.
    After carefully setting the draped cage in the trunk of our Honda and driving slowly to a wood half a mile away, I carried the cage, still draped, into the wood, set it down, and flipped the handle to open the door. The first sound the rabbit made since its initial frightened scurry was the hopeful scurry of its running out of the cage and quickly out of sight behind a tree and into some bushes.
    Good luck, little guy or gal. I hope to bring you a companion tomorrow.
    Next morning, another involuntary expression: Let there be another rabbit in the trap....
    Alas, no, the second hope in as many mornings unrealized.


Good luck, still, little guy or gal. Survive the loneliness, survive the hawk, the owl, the dog, the snake. If there really are any more rabbits in our back yard, I hope to bring them to you yet.
     ...If they haven't drowned or suffocated in their warren(s) in the back yard. Two-point-oh-one inches of rain four nights ago, one-point-ninety-five the next night.


In sum [added later], prayer doesn't do a thing in the way of enlisting aid, yet the impulse to pray is nevertheless widespread, even among people who are bent on actions that a good person can't condone.
    As I meant to suggest, I think that my own impulse that morning was nothing more than an expression of a wish to avoid an act that somehow went against the grain. If my wife and I were in any sense "playing god" by setting a trap (a humane trap, especially designed not to hurt the anmial), I was doing so reluctantly (because, as I said, I felt that the rabbits had as much right to enjoy our back yard as we do).
    I don't think it's particularly intriguing that jihadists and abortion-clinic bombers find a god to condone their acts, for they can't find any reason to condone them. When murderers and other destroyers' invoke some nonexistent god's approval, their act is utterly banal and contemptible.
    But equally banal (if not contemptible) is invoking a nonexistent god's approval to do good, especially a god such as that of the Old Testament, who was Himself ever ready to rape and murder. Good people need to learn to trust their own reason and conscience. Their continuing to invoke a nonexistent authority is counterproductive and only delays their maturity.
    Give me my own conscience every time, even if it sometimes, for a moment—out of some childish impulse or unextinguished habit—starts to express a hope in phrasing that used to signify a prayer.

20 comments:

  1. Moristotle, prayer worked as well for people trapped in planes about to slam into buildings in New York 11 years ago as it would for a rabbit trapped in a cage and about to be relocated, so why any living thing would have an impulse to pray is intriguing. Prayer is an act that rather obviously does not come with much of a warranty.

    Is the impulse to pray a person's hope that some god would somehow intervene and make the right thing happen, or just a way for a person taking an action to believe that if some greater force did not block their efforts, then what they did must be right? Is prayer basically the blank cartridge that everyone knows is chambered in one of the guns on a firing squad, so they can rationalize that maybe they didn't actually help kill the poor man, or woman, or child, standing helpless at the wrong end of the barrel?

    Supposedly devout Muslims prayed for the success of their 9/11 mission. Supposedly devout Christians prayed for the success of their military's efforts to kill Muslims. Did either side believe what they were doing was right, or did they just want to be able to believe that if they succeeded their god must have endorsed it, and they were therefore morally off the hook despite killing so many innocent people?

    When you had your impulse to pray that a rabbit not be in the trap, was it due to a lingering link to what you were taught as a child? Or was it based in the lifelong desire most people have, to believe what they do is right?

    People play god in ways great and small. Some kill people, others rescue them. Some kill animals, others save them - or at least relocate rather than execute them. On all sides the impulse to pray is often the same, as are the gods.

    It is intriguing that people can be so determined to play god that they can find a god to pray to that condones killing hundreds or thousands of innocent people. It is equally intriguing that someone can have the impulse to pray when playing god to relocate rabbits. It is especially interesting that god is seldom there to save the victim, human or rabbit, from relocation or obliteration, yet is always there to help people who play god feel they are doing a great job of it.

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    1. Thanks for reaffirming that prayer doesn't do a thing in the way of enlisting aid, yet that the impulse to pray is nevertheless widespread, even among people who are bent on actions that you and I can't condone.
          As I meant to suggest, I think that my own impulse that morning was nothing more than an expression of a wish to avoid an act that somehow went against the grain. If my wife and I were in any sense "playing god" by setting a trap (a humane trap, especially designed not to hurt the anmial), I was doing so reluctantly (because, as I said, I felt that the rabbits had as much right to enjoy our back yard as we do).
          I don't think it's particularly intriguing that murderers find a god to condone their acts, for they can't find any reason to condone them. Murderers and other destructive individuals' invoking some nonexistent god's approval is utterly banal and contemptible.
          But equally banal is invoking a nonexistent god's approval to do good, especially a god such as that of the Old Testament who was so intent on rape and murder Himself. Good people need to learn to trust their own reason and conscience. Their continuing to invoke a nonexistent authority is counterproductive and only delays their maturity.
          Give me my own conscience every time, even if it sometimes, for a moment—out of some childish impulse or unextinguished habit—starts to express a hope in phrasing that used to signify a prayer.

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  2. Moristotle, I have to ask: If you "felt that the rabbits have as much right to enjoy our back yard as we do," why did you set traps to remove them?

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    1. I'm surprised that you had to ask that or that I have to point out to a man more of a realist (I think) than I am: rights clash. Note that my wife and I set the trap, and that I was reluctant.
          I didn't mention another reluctance—my reluctance to upset marital harmony, but I appear to have miscalculated when I assumed that I didn't need to. I thought that any married person whose own marital harmony occasionally called for a compromise would understand.

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    2. Making small compromises that affect only the two people involved is something I understand. Compromise at a level that puts other creatures, or people, at risk, raises an intriguing moral question. Mercifully my own compromise falls in the realm of doing a bit more house keeping than I prefer, rather than disruptng the lives of innocent creatures.

      Your situation reminds me of one my aunt and uncle faced. They had a cabin in the Tug Hill area of Upstate New York, and for several winters a black bear hibernated beneath it. Both were avid hunters and both wanted to shoot a bear. My aunt maintained the bear was fair game since it showed up during bear hunting season. My uncle argued the bear could be shot only during fair chase in the wild, that it earned "safe" status after it crawled under the cabin and fell asleep.
      They "compromised" on my uncle's rules. but only after heated arguments and my uncle's declaration that if my aunt shot the bear under the cabin she would have to drag it out by herself. Since the bear appeared to weigh somewhere between 350 and 400 pounds, my aunt conceded the point.

      Fortunately for all concerned, the bear always managed to arrive under cover of darkness to settle into its long winter's rest, and didn't reappear on the hill behind the cabin - sometimes with cubs - until spring trout season was in and bear season was many months out.

      I would be curious about your wife's response if you presented her with the idea that any rabbits who managed to penetrate your maximum-security barrier had earned "safe' status and should be allowed to stay.

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    3. Motomynd, excellent point about compromises that put others at risk. That's another important consideration for persons who strive to be scrupulous in their dealings.
          Ironically, since we haven't seen a rabbit since the one was removed and the very heavy rain, it's possible that we actually saved its life (if two things are true: 1. the remaining rabbits actually did drown or suffocate in their back-yard warrens, and 2. the removed rabbit didn't drown or suffocate in the woods where I let it go).
          I'm glad your uncle won the discussion, but what if your aunt had said she'd get someone else to help her drag the carcass out from under the cabin?
          Ah! I think I may know why she didn't do that: she'd have been too embarrassed for a third party to know how low she'd stoop? (Maybe she had had the grace to realize, during the discussion, just how low she would have been stooping? But kept "at" your uncle anyway as a ruse so he wouldn't know it?)
          Please, never ask intrusive questions about my wife. I will not answer them.

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  3. Moristotle, yes, I suspect my aunt would not enlist someone to assist because that would foil any plans she may have had to brag about the frantic chase that led to the epic kill. Plus, she came to enjoy the bear as a conversation piece when people visited the camp for cross-country skiing and snowmobiling: "Say, would you like to crawl under the cabin and see the hibernating bear?" Surprisingly, just about all of the people she asked took her up on the offer.

    Regarding your rabbits: Since they may not have a god to pray to and therefore have to be responsible for their own actions, they most likely left soggy cover for higher ground and survived just fine. Praying, instead of taking action, seems to be a trait exclusive to humans.

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    1. I'm glad that your aunt was a good sport about the bear.
          That would be lovely if the rabbits simply left for higher ground. Thanks for suggesting that that was more likely what happened.

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  4. I'd like to see "Thor's Day" go after a nefarious partner of prayer: hope. Hope always gets a pass. Politicians, evangelists, and everyday well-wishers continually offer it as a consolation. Here's a quote from Nietzsche that pretty much puts it into focus: "Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man."

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    1. Ken, I hope to rise to this challenge! No, seriously, that's self-parody, for your comment instantly made me realize how "hopeful" I myself can be, and how in need of correction I seem to be here. Besides, I'm glad to have an opportunity to bring Nietzsche into the discussion. Can you tell me in which of his writings I could find the sentence you quote? Thanks.

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    2. Haven't been able to find the title of the book it comes from. I'll keep looking.

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    3. Ken, Could this be it?
          "In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs man's torments." ~Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, 1878
          Found by a quick google.

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    4. Hope may be the worst of evils, yet when you consider the financial success of the Mormons, the Dalai Lama, the Catholic Church, the church church, etc, marketing hope may be even more lucrative than trafficking drugs or teenage prostitutes.

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    5. Motomynd, your comment is as fine an example of pith as I've seen in a good long while!

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  5. Ken, your comment on hope reignited my desire to comment on an earlier post about the Dalai Lama. He is apparently a champion of "hope" but other than being "hopeful" it is difficult to figure out exactly what else he does - other than enjoy a jet-set lifestyle.

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    1. Yes, motomynd, apt question. For the convenience of any who would like to check out that post, it can be found here.
          Related questions might be: Why do people depend so much on someone who is capable of inspiring them to hope? What value lies in being so inspired? What dangers? (I'm thinking of the let-down that many feel now who were inspired by Barack Obama to be hopeful in 2008....)

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  6. Moristotle, there is an expression that goes something like "seldom have so many sacrificed so much for the benefit of so few." I have no idea who the "few" may have been in that original reference, but today it could apply to anyone from the leaders of North Korea to the Dalai Lama to politicians, actors and athletes. If one is going to be in the "hope" business, it is obviously much more lucrative to be the one paid to inspire, rather than among those paying to be inspired.

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    1. Good reversal. The well-paid few who inspire hope are the ones who depend...on the many to pay them. Or to follow them, when it comes to politics. And the value lies not in being inspired, but in inspiring...sufficiently to be paid (in money or votes).
          I think we're on to (Nietzsche was on to) something very important here. As more ideas come to you, please contribute them to me for a future (perhaps the next) "Thor's Day" installment. Thanks!

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    2. Motomynd (and Ken),I just had the pleasant shock to realize that when I wrote my "Good reversal" reply, I was under the impression I was replying to Ken rather than to Motomynd, as my reference to Nietzsche seems to indicate (since Ken had introduced a quote from Nietzsche about hope's prolonging the torments of men).
          So, Motomynd, thank you for your "good reversal"!
          And, of course, my request for more ideas for a future installments (of anything) applies to both of you fine gentlemen.

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  7. If people put less time and energy into looking for heroes to inspire and lead them, and instead put more effort into striving to live heroically and find their own way, what a different place the world might be.

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