“Oh, God-”
This is what I pray most often. It is a spontaneous prayer that leaps up from my gut multiple times in any given day. As a complete sentence it sounds something like, “Oh God, what have I done now?” or “Oh God, how am I ever going to get through this?” or “Oh God, I can’t believe he just said that.” Usually, though, it never makes it that far. Usually its just, “Oh, God.” Which could easily be, “Oh, crap,” but its not, because its more than an exclamation, its an address. An address that more often than not stops short of its request, a slightly defeated, silent plea, “please, help me.”
“Oh my God, if I’m going to make it through this day without being a total ass to everyone I come across, I’m going to need some supernatural aid and assistance.”
Anne Lamott -whom I loved reading before going to seminary and love even more now that I’m out of it- calls “help” one of the three main prayers. I’ve often thought of four (“Thank you, I love you, I’m sorry, please help.”) Folks who differentiate between petition (“please help me be less of an ass”) and intercession (“please help my friend Joe be less of an ass”) claim five. The multiplication could go on. The important thing is that whether you’re singing the tenor line in an Elizabethan anthem of praise or asking for a parking space you’re still talking to God. Or maybe “God” is too specific for you, with too much anthropomorphic baggage. Maybe you ask the Universe for help. In either case one seeks to name the authority and power which is above and beyond all other powers and authorities and then strike up a conversation. You take the arrow-prayer “help” and aim it at the place you hope will matter most.
“Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
How’s that for specific? This is the Jesus Prayer, or a more elaborate Eastern Orthodox way of saying, “please, help me.” This is what I pray next-most-often, or what I pray when I remember that I’m praying. I’ve gotten so used to praying it over the “Oh, God” impulse that sometimes I just say “Lord” instead. Most of the time, by itself, it comes out sounding like a question, like “Lord?” Like, “are you there? Lord, are you with me? Am I on this one alone?” Other times it’s just a heavy period, the only spoken word of an otherwise unspoken sentence that would probably go something like, “Lord, I am so tired,” or “Lord, I am so confused.” Question or not, each time the word springs up in me it pings like a sonar- “Lord,” -starting somewhere deep down in the still center, spreading out into the much more deep beyond, groping in the dark for the object which it hopes to name.
“Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
If you have triggers around the anthropomorphic specificities of “God,” this prayer may be something of a minefield. If you care to cross it with me, start simple.
- “Lord” is a title, a means of ascribing and addressing one particular power over many other powers that might try to claim our attention and time, such as “Lord Security,” “Lord Wealth,” “Lord Not Enough,” or “Lord Fear of Death.”
- “Jesus” is a middle-eastern man who died 2,000 years ago. Have you ever felt communion with a dead person? The first time I was aware of this being remotely possible came to me while reading Walt Whitman when I was 15 (“Whoever you are, holding me now in hand,” and the stunning recognition that I was now holding a piece of what remained of this great man in the world, his words.) Jesus has a similar knack for leaping off the page and into the present moment, but it’s more than just his words. It is the spirit of how he lived and died and loved that we who call him “Lord” above all other powers continually hope to discern amidst the world we are left with.
- “Christ” means anointed, the Hebrew word is from something that sounds like “Masach” which means “smear” the way you would smear a cut of meat with oil for the grill, or smear a new king or priest with oil, or smear the mouths of your sheep with oil to keep the bugs out; this word is connected to “Messiah”. It’s basically covered in oil,
I hope for this essay to be an evolving work in progress in the weeks to come. Not necessarily prescriptive for your own prayer life, but hopefully honestly descriptive of my own. I could inform that work with your contributions if you post them as comments below.
