WAR PRAYER
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THE WAR PRAYER
(Story by Mark Twain)
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IT WAS a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country and invoked the God of Battles, beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpouring of fervid eloquence which moved every listener.
It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half-dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety’s sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.
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Sunday morning came—next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams —visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender!—then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation—
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"God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest, Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!”
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Then came the “long” prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour
of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory.
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An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way;
without pausing, he ascended to the preacher’s side and stood there, waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, “Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!”
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The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside—which the startled minister did—and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spell-bound audience with solemn eyes in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:
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“I come from the Throne — bearing a message from Almighty God!” The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. “He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import—that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the
prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of—except he pause and think.
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“God’s servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two—one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this—keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain noon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor’s crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.
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You have heard your servant’s prayer — the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it—that part which the pastor, and also you in your hearts, fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: ‘Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!’ That is sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory—must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God the Father fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!
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“O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle—be Thou near them! With them, in spirit, we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the
spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are. sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
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(After a pause) “Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits.”
It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.
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This short story is by Mark Twain, copied from The Portable Mark Twain edited by Bernard De Voto "(New York: Viking Press, 1974), pp. 579-583.
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WHY
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Believing and Belonging
I finally heard myself say the very words I have always dreaded. These words were said in answer to the once-too-ofien-asked
question, "WHY?" My response was, “Because I'm the mommy, that’s why!”
Out of frustration and out of patience, I resort to unilateral parental authority and the conversation ends. I have spoken. It
works — but only for a short while.
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There seems always to exist a segment of society that believes the authoritative word is all that is needed. Someone needs to be in charge. Someone needs to establish the place for everything and everyone.
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An example of this in the church is when we confront the issue of children and youth in worship. I frequently hear that if children would just sit in church they eventually will want to be there.
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But this question “Why?” keeps occurring. Recently, it seems more frequent and more complicated. Those of us designated
as the experts, paid to respond to the questions, get worn down from being asked so often. But the question demands and deserves an answer.
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This question and the answer are one of faith and survival for the whole Christian community. It touches the core of our existence: it has to do with our human relationships, our belonging together. It has to do with our beliefs in what God intends for the human community.
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Whether as ministers, parents or adult members of a local congregation, we all arc responsible for the children to whom we made promises at baptism.
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There is no special trick to communicating with youth. It only takes time and sincere caring. It isn’t just scheduling youth group from 7-9 p.m. on Sunday night and hiring someone else to be there. It doesn’t mean operating youth ministry as an entertainment industry filled with roller skating, skiing, and volleyball. It is church members who talk with youth, know their
names, care about their plans, their ideas and their fears.
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It means recognizing that teenagers ache as much as adults for some substantive discussions that encourage believing. It doesn’t mean making a spectacle out of them, setting aside one Sunday a year, letting them do whatever they want. It does mean knowing that teen-agers also ache for a sense of belonging and need to be included all year in the whole range of
church life.
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Superficially, a group can look great. It can be a big group having loads of fun — for a while. Then comes commissioning day or graduation day. Unwittingly, we program our youth to believe that that day signifies the end of church life.
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Where did we allow them to grow in their ability and desire to believe and belong? Where did they get a glimmer that believing and belonging was not a numbers game? When were they able to grow in grace and hold fast to that which is good?
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Believing and belonging include allowing for, encouraging and answering the question “Why?” The question “Why?” is
the spark of interest a teen-ager shows. Questioning is the gift children and youth bring to the faith community. It is the
“teachable moment” when adults are invited to talk about what they believe and how they belong.
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During the last Holy Week, our congregation held a seder service on Maundy Thursday. I was struck by the way the liturgy had incorporated the question “Why?”
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“Why is this night different?
Why do we eat this...?
Why do we do that...”
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The response to each “Why?” is not, “Because we’ve always done it that way,” but the powerful re-telling of God’s having acts.
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The faith story is retold. The faith community is reminded of its beginnings, its grounding in God’s faithful love. We are to be about the task of responding to the “Why?” of faith. And in responding, we will be encouraging believing and belonging.
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The expectation is that this will happen in the church. If not there, where else? Every person, even a teen-ager, comes to a church searching for a deeper spiritual grounding in their lives. They depend on that church to be their community, to support their spiritual growth, to speak about their spiritual needs and maybe even to give them a push.
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As for resorting to responses like “Because I’m the mommy, that’s why!,” it is important to keep in mind that it only works for a while. It can never form the basis of believing or belonging — to a family or to a church. Taking the time to retell the story of
believing and belonging — this is what is lasting.
ROSEMARY C. MITCHELL, 121N. Fitzhugh St Rochester, N.Y. 14614 Guest Editorial in The Presbyterian Outlook, 3/14/1988
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WILL OF GOD
"Johnny,” called his father, as he went off to work that day, "If you feel like it, will you cut the lawn this morning." Then, over his shoulder he added, "You'd better feel like it."
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... There are times, of course, when we don't feel like doing what we ought to do.
Jesus understood our feelings when He told the story of the Two Sons. The father said to the first, "Son, go and work in the vineyard today." Stubborn and resentful, the first son replied, "I will not." But afterward he repented and went. The second son, also told to go and work in the vineyard, replied, "I go, sir." But he did not go.
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Obviously, neither son felt like working in the hot sun. But the son who repented and went into the vineyard "did the will of his father," as Jesus noted. (Matthew 21:28-32)
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Jesus, when he told the story, had two groups in mind. There were, on the one hand, folks who "professed" to want to do the will of God, yet didn't feel like doing it, and so did not. They worshipped God with their lips, but their hearts were far from Him. There was little in their lives which gave evidence of integrity and faithfulness.
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On the other hand, there were those who appeared to be unmoved by God's call to service - digging in their heels saying, "No!" But then, confronted with human need or some challenge to serve in Jesus’ name, they responded and even went beyond the call of duty - putting faith into "practice." And, Jesus said, they go into the Kingdom.
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If it's a choice between the first group and the second, there’s no doubt which is to be preferred. But what God really wants is folks in whom "profession" and "practice" meet and match.
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Dear God, help us, that what we say with our lips,
we may believe in our hearts,
and practice in our lives. Amen.
Your Pastor,
Bob
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by Robert W. Battles, Pastor of First Presbyterian Church Mt. Clemens, MI, in The Herald church newsletter, September 1988
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