Illustration by ED OYAMA Â Adam Epstein
Epstein is a fourth-year communications studies student with a bad
sandals tan. Ask him about it at eppyad@hotmail.com.
Question: Have you recently lost any faith in humanity, the
goodness of others, the brotherhood of man, the Global Village,
your sense of security, confidence, well-being, machismo, your
nature as an eternally invincible youth or the assumption that
there is a clear answer to any problem or conflict that could ever
arise? Have your convictions been shaken? They have?
Well honeychil’, we all know what that means ““
it’s prayin’ time! Put the kids to sleep, or wake
’em up and drag ’em outside if that’s your style;
cover your head, fall to your knees and bust out your best rosary,
prayer shawl or Mecca-facing rug. There’s some serious
healing to be done.
The Uncertainty Monster has been roused from a decades-old
sleep, and he has risen with a vengeance, leaving in his wake a
mass of confused, restless and good-old-fashioned scared
individuals.
Can we forge on in the midst of such calamity, maintaining a
strong front and a stiff upper lip while still being able to tell
Timmy Jr. that yes, Mommy and Daddy are both scared stiffer than a
petrified redwood 2×4 on Viagra? Can we have our vengeful cake and
eat it in a pious manner? Can we pray our way to a better tomorrow,
riding a sanctified wave to a specific secular destination?
Sure we can! It’s the ’90s! (Sorry, I still catch
myself saying that. It’s actually the aughts. Not as cool a
name). Today’s more popular brands of prayer are souped up,
Americanized versions of the archaically humble and penitent
standards. Prayer in America is entering an era of commercial
appeal, plastic fantastic, drive-thru speeds and enough glitz and
merchandising punch to make George Lucas turn to guys with names
like Mordecai and Multnomah for marketing advice. Theology has gone
Pop.
In light of the recent and tragic events (how many times have
you heard that sentence?), heartfelt prayer and self-introspection
is at a premium, deservedly so. In such a situation, pop-prayer
looks juvenile and trite to the point of ridiculousness. Bumpers
adorned with silver “Jesus fish” or “God is my
co-pilot” stickers now, more than ever, come off as a cheap
attempt at real substance. Capitalism and catechism, common if not
frowned upon partners, have never danced more awkwardly
together.
A recent trend in pop-prayer is not only an embodiment of the
Wal-Mart-ization of American faith, but illustrates just how silly
such prayers seem in the aftermath of piercing tragedy. Called the
Prayer of Jabez (pronounced Jay-bez), it falls under the
always-entertaining category of, “People actually believe
this tripe?” It is an outlandish illustration of how prayer
has gone from an intensely personal and modest undertaking to one
where rapid and selfish results are not only desired but also
expected.
In the prayer (coming from a three-sentence passage in First
Chronicles for all you Bible thumpers), a man named Jabez calls
upon God to bless him and “increase his territory.” God
then “grant(s) him what he requested.”
I hear Windows XP is going to be God-proof.
Recent best-selling novels have taken this apparently
insignificant passage in one of the Bible’s most boring parts
and transformed it into a “guaranteed method” of
getting whatever you want by simply adhering to the 30-day prayer
plan championed in these books.
“The Prayer of Jabez,” by Bruce Wilkinson, is the
most popular of the current fodder. Say the prayer on a regular
basis, says the book, and “soon you too will feel an
adrenaline rush that you can call the Holy Spirit and use it to
justify any fool thing that you want to say.”
Well, it’s about time! The millions of prophets, priests,
shaman, rabbis, witch doctors and televangelists populating the
world over the last 5,000 years obviously never heard of this Jabez
guy. How fortunate we are to be living in this new, enlightened
age!
According to the Los Angeles Times, which profiled Wilkinson,
testimonials to the power of the prayer abound, including those on
the prayer’s Web site (since when did prayers have their own
Web sites?), www.prayerofjabez.com.
Some “miracles” occurring to those practicing the
prayer to fruition: “God protects driver who falls asleep at
the wheel,” “College tuition paid by wealthy
benefactor,” and my personal favorite, “God coordinates
Internet failure when man intends to visit pornographic Web
sites.” So that’s why my computer freezes so much.
Thanks for nothing God! Bill Gates wants a word with You (I hear
Windows XP is going to be God-proof. Thank God, or “¦
whoever).
There are now Jabez coffee mugs, neckties, and myriad other
knickknacks serving two purposes: 1) making money, and 2) making
self-respecting, truly faithful individuals want to throw up their
sacramental wine in the nearest pew. The truly pathetic kicker is
that “The Prayer of Jabez” has sold close to 8 million
copies worldwide. That’s 8 million functioning members of
society who feel a 92-page book sold for $10 a pop answers the
ancient cosmic question, “How can I get God to gimme
mine?”
Why discuss this seemingly inconsequential book and why read
this submission, written by one who is admittedly not that
religious? It is because in light of the recent and tragic events
(there’s that lovely phrase) questions such as “Why do
people do such things?” and “What does the future have
in store for me?” are on the tips of most people’s
anxious tongues. Demanding answers to our most precious questions
and comfort from enemies and ideas that penetrate and disrupt the
very core of who we are, we want assurance that, “Yes. God
loves you, everything is going to be OK, and all the answers to all
the problems you will ever have are readily available (for three
easy payments of $9.95).”
Well, news flash: It isn’t that easy, and it never will
be. If the recent and tragic events have taught us anything,
it’s that no matter how slick and shiny the packaging on
either our religiously based or corporately created beliefs, they
are little more than a spiritual teddy bear that we squeeze a
little tighter when the bad guys come knocking. There is no quick
fix.
This is not to say I find prayer to be a fruitless and egregious
institution. On the contrary, I believe those who pray and seek
comfort in something greater than themselves engage in a noble,
acutely necessary undertaking. However, when people expect faith to
provide instant rewards and solutions, there is a deep problem.
The miraculous cleaning product seen on TV at three in the
morning is not going to get that stain off your carpet. “The
Prayer of Jabez” is not going to be the answer to your
prayers.
Sometimes the only answer is that there are no answers.