God as Santa?
An Atheist's Guide to Prayer
An old friend was dying of cancer when I suggested that praying might ease some of her pain if not bring about some divine insight to her disease. I've always known my friend to be stubborn and that her 12 years of parochial school had turned her off to organized religion and to that God that Josiah Bartlett calls a "feckless thug." Indeed, she had become an agnostic, perhaps an atheist, most certainly a lapsed Catholic. I wrote the following with tongue partially in cheek to try and assuage her concerns that I might evangelically try and reconnect her with her estranged deity. My primary goal was to use some reverse psychology to get my friend to pray, if only to bring her some inner peace. Some eight months later, as death draws nearer each day, she seems to be doing just that.
Tom Lederer February 2003
My first day of class at the Seminary, Father Thomas Catania sauntered into the classroom and then with increased passion, asked:
“Is there anyone in this room who believes that the Bible is God’s verbatim word to man, all true, chronicled events, God-said-it/I believe-it? If so, please raise your hand.” We were a bit too shocked to respond so there were no raised hands.
“Good. Anyone who thinks that way doesn’t belong in graduate school.”
And so began my formal journey into the world of theology. I had dabbled in the realm of religion both in some independent study classes prior to my work at the Seminary as well as while covering some God-related stories for the Times. In fact a story for the Times was how I first stumbled upon the Seminary of the Immaculate Conception.
My theological view of the world does not coincide with any one formal religious doctrine and, if I had to point to any one religious mentor it would probably be Dennis Miller or George Carlin. I love Carlin’s line (similar to something Andy Rooney once said) that we may not know the answers to life’s mysteries, but why do we have to make up stories and fairy tales so we can sleep at night? The energy should instead be expended toward uncovering the truth, the absolutes, the science of what we see or believe. But, despite George’s wisdom, we still have the Bible, the Church, and people killing other people in the name of God.
The Old Testament consists of page after page of Jewish suffering—weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth—worse than anything you hear around Fortunoff’s as Jericho housewives desperately fight for a parking space. Because they made the mistake of believing in one God instead of multiple gods or one king, the Jews were exiled, enslaved, demeaned, and persecuted. So much so, the prophet Jeremiah predicted that things would take a turn for the better for the Jews (because things couldn’t get much worse,) that a messiah who would lead the Jews to the Promised Land would replace the covenant of Moses and the suffering would end. Some of the less patient Jews decided that this interesting looking guy (somewhere between Jeffery Hunter and Willem Dafoe,) who hung around with some interesting women, spoke in riddles, got himself into some trouble with the Feds, was executed, was indeed the Messiah.
Someone probably moved the rock, stole the body, he supposedly reappeared to a chosen few (all of whom had eaten some special mushrooms imported from Mexico the night before) and the world had its savior. The curse of the Garden of Eden had been lifted, the Jews would no longer be punished and be forced to build pyramids, and death had been replaced by eternal life. Those who believed that Christ was the savior became Christians and those who said this guy couldn't possibly be the Son of God remained Jewish and moved to Jericho to shop at Fortunoff’s.
The new Christians didn’t always act very Christ-like, like when they decided that any Jew who did not convert to Christianity was to be labeled forever as a Christ-killer. Despite what anyone says to the contrary, that is still today the firmly held belief of most every Christian who has ever fundamentally read the Gospel of St. John in the New Testament. The Church of Rome was founded via succession down from one of the original apostles, Peter, who by all historical evidence was not the sharpest tool in the shed.
During the third century, Christianity and Constantine the Great became very, very strange bedfellows. The bittersweet result was the survival of the Christian religion with an inextricable link with regal rites and pagan tradition. At Nicea, Constantine, ever the consummate politician, made certain that Jesus was perceived as nothing less than the divine son of the Almighty. Misogyny also became a very important sacrament in Catholicism.
Luther split with the Church in the 1500’s probably not because the priests were abusing children (the priests back then were less sexually confused and must less celibate,) but because Rome was and remains the last bastion of a centralized church that Christ never, ever would have approved of because it was too similar to the Pharisaic hierarchy that he is said to have fought during his lifetime.
So there it is, a prelude to 5000 years of religious history that I did NOT learn in the Seminary What do I believe? Pretty much what I did as I entered the Seminary in 1992: the Bible is historical anecdotes organized to present some religious themes that may or may not be supported by context or fact. The New Testament is from first to last a book of persuasion, “rhetoric” as we were taught in class, written by first-century theologians hell-bent on selling Christianity and extinguishing Judaism. I believe that some of what is written can provide a smattering of relief to some who are troubled by life as much as they are by the prospects of their death.
As a theologian, the biggest problem that I’ve observed over the years has been the confusion between the concepts of God and Santa Claus. I’m sure that you learned growing up that God was watching all, knew when you were doing something wrong, had a list, was checking it twice, and was going to find out who was naughty or nice. This same God/Santa Claus could be “petitioned” (yes, Jim, “petition the Lord with prayer”) and asked that we be forgiven our sins and our hairy palms, and that He intercede and help the Mets win another world series, that I pass the test I never studied for, and that I win the lottery. I don’t see God as Santa, although most people who believe in God do envision him that way, an old guy with a white beard, sitting on a cloud with a clipboard and a medium point Bick. And to those to say that God will answer all prayers, let them be aware that some of His answers may include: "No, not now, or figure it out yourself."
I recently heard of a survey that indicated that nuns who used the word “joy” and “happiness” were shown to live ten years longer than those who did not. Although I am not a nun and the word “joy” is not in my vocabulary, I decided to change the ring on my cell phone to “Ode to Joy.” My point (yes, I do have a point) is that apart from all the superstition and mindless ritual associated with religion, there may be some benefits to certain aspects of spirituality and prayer. Some of the benefits may be due to the power of suggestion, the undoing of psychosomatic trauma, or some ion transfer or shifts in magnetic fields that we may not yet fully comprehend.
I took a course in Church doctrine taught by the rector of the Seminary who was about to leave his post and go back to running a parish. He was a brilliant scholar, having studied in Rome about the time of Vatican II and it was his last class before he left; so his interaction with the class was a bit looser than it might normally have been. I asked him about intercessionary prayer and he said that it primarily benefits those who are doing the praying, giving them some form of inner strength, some sense of purpose when things are looking on the glum side. This acquired inner strength can by itself work miracles, but he agreed with my non-Santa theory.
I see ancient religion as more than occasionally trying to find some primitive almost childlike explanations for life forces and phenomena that people didn’t understand then nor may not fully understand as of yet. Modern religion seems to be perpetually trying to catch up with modern science and culture and, by all measurements seems to be losing that race. Speaking of magnetic fields, going into the Seminary, I harbored a theory that if humans had a soul it very likely was in the form of a magnetic field. And my final course in Christology seemed to espouse a theory from noted Catholic theologian Karl Rahner who basically stated something along the same lines. Hence, the concept of an enduring soul may be wishful thinking or science fiction. Or maybe this theory or others like it just haven’t been figured out yet.
The benefits of prayer may very well take on more characteristics of science that we just don’t yet understand, e.g., more so sonic or electronic wave transfer than anything having to do with intercession from a heavenly source. Similarly, the healing miracles attributed to Christ in the Bible may very well have just been mere foreshadowing of the medical miracles we read about today, where science helps the blind to see, helps the lame to walk, or a patient with cancer to miraculously heal with the help of medicine or inner strength or forces unknown.
When I pray, I try and forget any preconceived notions that I have brought along with me to adulthood from childhood. No Santa, no clipboard, no magic wand, no clicking of my heels, no man behind the curtain. I appeal to the inner workings of me, the nebulous life force that somehow started and keeps ticking in ways and for reasons that aren’t truly clear to me. I also am sometimes hopeful that through prayer that some positive vibes or some mini ion-storm might somehow affect someone I care about in some productive ways.
I don’t know whether changing the ring on my cell phone will make me more joyous and consequently live longer. I don’t know if a focused, inward, prayerful appeal on your part or by those around you will have any affect on what you’re going through. But it probably can’t hurt.
Postscript: My friend passed away on March 31, 2003.