(Song: Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?)

If you weren’t awake, I bet you are now!

“Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?”  I love this song and how, in the form of a prayer, mocks the pervasive materialism of our capitalistic society.  The requests are the idle, or not so idle, mental fantasies that drift across the landscape of the mind revealing how self-centered and empty one’s desires can be. At its best, prayer, like meditation, can be a spiritual discipline that enables us to be free from the tyranny of ego-grasping thoughts.  At its worst, prayer is a total reflection of our self-centered desires. 

Do you pray?   Do you believe in prayer?  Do you wish you believed in it? Or do you wonder what prayer is?

Prayer comes in many forms.  Unitarian Universalists often say, “Service is our prayer.”    Hearing our young people, and Mark, Abby and Doug speak about the transformation they experienced doing the service work in New Orleans is an example of service as prayer.  The transformation was the experience of one’s reality increasing to include so much more through the connections made by their acts of giving and of  being. When this happens, our hearts are filled with gratitude.

When I was a chaplain intern at the then Deaconness Hospital in Boston, Joe, whose name I changed and who was one of my fellow intern chaplains, asked my group of fellow interns whether we believed in prayer.   During one of our daily seminars, 

Joe explained he had just returned from being with a patient, who, 2 weeks previously, had received the diagnosis of advanced pancreatic cancer and was told he had no more than a month to live.  The patient was told to go home and put his affairs in order.  

Instead the patient, who I will call Steven, decided to fight the cancer.  He came to the Deaconness Hospital, where a team of doctors was conducting research using a new combination of chemotherapy.  The doctors told Steven this new drug protocol 

had a 2% chance of extending his life.  Steven accepted the poor odds, because he believed 2% was better was than none.  This was the story Joe heard from Steven when Steven asked Joe to say a prayer.  As Joe began to pray, Steven interrupted Joe and demanded that Joe pray for a miracle.  At this point Joe stopped telling us his story and asked,  “Do you believe in miracles?”   “Better yet, do you believe in prayer?”  

To the miracle question we all agreed miracles reminded us of the image of the Big Santa Claus in the sky, who also had a sadistic streak by not granting miracles to all. 

To the question about prayer, all but one of us were uncertain about whether we believed in the power of prayer.  As I look back, I am not sure we understood what prayer was.

Today when I think of Steven’s prayer request, I do not hear him necessarily asking for a “miracle,” but rather a crying out that he did not want to die.   I believe prayer  - at its best - is a speaking from the heart, calling out to the universe to bear witness to our fears, our pain, our suffering, our confusion; as well as our joy and gratitude.

On the evening news when we hear the shrill piercing cry of Palestinian women expressing their wrenching pain and sorrow when a loved one is killed, they are uvulating to pierce the heavens to let God or Allah know their pain; they also uvulate at the birth of their children.  Again it is to pierce the heavens, but this time to let Allah know their joy.  

In one of my Old Testament courses I learned to uvulate.  It is wonderful to do!   It empties your mind and body, and feels good. Theologian Ann Ulanov and Professor Barry Ulanov, who are authors of the book Prayer as Primary Speech, state, “Prayer is primary speech and the most direct line of communication we have to our interior reality.  Few experiences are so important in the development of the language of primary speech as those of admission.  We must own up, stop denying what we have done and not done, recognizing that being truthful with ourselves can be messy business.”  Professor Ulanov, whose field is psychology, explains,  “Much of human suffering is a result of mistaken identity.”  He explains our real self is buried underneath illusions we have created because we think the illusion will be more readily received than our true self. This state of affairs confirms the observation by the Roman writer Seneca, “We often want one thing and pray for another, not telling the truth even to the gods.”  

Most of us know prayer as primary speech, when we slam on the brakes and say “Oh, God or some expletive.”  The words are a spontaneous expression of fear, surprise, joy following unexpected turn of events.   Authentic prayer, meaning we are authentic as we speak our truth, takes courage.  When we truly enter into the spirit of prayer, in order to speak the deepest feelings in our heart, we need to recognize our fears  so we can let them go.  Prayer, like meditation, is about letting go of the ego  so we can we can be present to a larger Reality.

When I was a student at Andover Newton, I took a course titled Spiritual Resources for Healing the Mind and Nourishing the Soul.  One of the requirements was to attend a healing service.  When I heard this, my skin began to crawl.  Fortunately I learned the Ecumenical Task Force for AIDS and many Boston churches were offering healing services for families with loved ones with AIDS.  I decided to attend the service held at First Parish in Jamaica Plain.  Because I needed to write a paper about the service, I arrived with notepad in hand. I had the expectation that I would be an observer. 

John Buehrens, former UUA president and present minister of First Parish in Needham, delivered the opening words.  He stressed we are all in need of healing and need "to be channels of our own healing.... by coming together in hopeful humility sensing the experience but not knowing how it happens." To my surprise, I suddenly realized I was no longer just an observer but I was also there as a participant.  

When the opportunity for individual healing was offered to the congregation, four groups of healers, composed of clergy and laity, were arranged  in the 4 corners of the sanctuary to maintain privacy.  When I went forward, I explained I was fearful to express my inner voice and my inner power. My prayer was to find my voice and express it.

This may seem like a strange request now, but in 1994 I struggled with panic attacks when I spoke publicly. My voice elevated in pitch and  my respirations became shallow and quick. It made talking difficult to do.

In the healing circle, two ministers took my hands, while two lay healers formed a semi-circle around me.  I felt I was surrounded by love and acceptance:  not only the acceptance of my fears but also acceptance of my spiritual journey.  I wish I could remember verbatim what each person said. I do remember one of the lay healers reminding me to take deep breaths and to laugh when a panic attacked arrived.  

I knew he was right and I wondered if he gained this knowledge from personal experience.  What mattered most was how I felt when I left: I was filled with the feeling of gratitude, joy, equanimity, which, to my surprise remained with me for 6 weeks.

After the healing service the panic attacks did not end immediately.  It took a lot of meditation, determination, practice and several years.  But the peace I experienced during the service continued to be a source of spiritual sustenance for years to come – even during difficult times.  The Rev. Basil Pennington, who has written many books on centering prayer, which is the Christian version of meditation, says, "Whenever I find my soul agitated or troubled with cares and concern, I know if I look more deeply I will find the agitation flows from a lack of trust.”  (Pennington 1986, 38)  I needed to learn to trust this new path called ministry.

Often people go into prayer to gain clarity, even hoping for an answer.   In the story of “Mountain Birthday,” which is in Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamont, Anne recounts a dilemma she faced when her son Sam turned 7 years old.  They were in Idaho. 

Early one morning they were walking in a beautiful valley with magnificent jagged mountains rising above them.  Suddenly Sam noticed a hang-glider floating down off the mountainside.  As they watched they realized the glider was going to land near them.  

Sam ran over to the man with Anne following behind him.  Sam immediately announced to the man it was his birthday in two days.  The glider offered to take Sam up for a ride on his birthday, explaining he took his own son up at age five. Sam was very excited but Anne said she needed to think about it.

Anne was torn between her need for her son to be safe and her desire for him to be happy.  So she asked friends whom she respected what she should do.  Half thought it would be fine, the other half thought she was crazy to even consider it, and some friends who believed in God, suggested that she pray.

Anne prayed, but received no obvious answer.  Then she remembered another time, when she had to make the most important decision of her life.  At that time Anne was two months pregnant and scheduled to have an abortion because she was alone and broke.  But she was having second thoughts.  When she talked with her minister, he advised she should have the abortion since there was no safety net.  Anne was surprised and asked “What about God?”   So the minister suggested she try something: “Get quiet for a moment and think about having an abortion; if you feel a deep and secret sense of relief, pay attention to it.  But if you feel deeply grieved at the thought of it, listen to that.”  Seven months later she gave birth to Sam.

So Anne decided to try the same technique for this present situation.  She became quiet and thought about how she would feel if she let Sam go hang-gliding: her heart leapt into her throat, as if to escape rising water.  Then she thought about how she would feel if she called the hang-glider and canceled.  Anne felt euphoric …

Well Sam did not go gliding on his birthday, but he did have a party and presents. At the end of the day, Anne tells the reader she and Sam stood together in the moonlight. 

Anne explains she did not know what any of this meant, only that she had asked for help and received it.  So she mentally thanked God for the wisdom she received.  To her son she said, “Happy birthday.”  He tucked his head in against my shoulder, closed his eyes, and smiled and said  “Thank you.”

Sometimes we need to be like Anne Lamott: we  need to sit with our fears, and we need to listen to what our bodies are telling us.  I believe Anne considers this approach a form of intuitive prayer. In fact her whole process was prayer: her thinking, her praying and receiving no answers, her talking with friends and feeling frustrated she had no clear answer to finally remembering the advice of her minister.  As she went through the process she became more and more mindful so ultimately, as the Ulanovs would say, she experienced direct line of communication  to her interior reality.

Because Anne concludes the story of Sam’s birthday celebration with Sam smiling at his mother and saying thank you, I am left feeling uncomfortable – I worry the happy ending can lead to magical thinking, which sounds like this: if I pray right, everything will turn out fine.  So I wish the story ended differently.  I don’t wish Anne Lamont ill-will, but when Anne said, “Happy Birthday”  to Sam,I wish Sam looked angrily at his mother and said, “You know Mom, what I REALLY WANTED MOST OF ALL was to go hang-gliding. I am SO mad at you,” and then he stomps off.   

This negative response would require Anne to sit with her sadness and to go deep to keep her heart open even in the face of rejection by her beloved son.  Keeping one’s heart open in face of anger and rejection is what Prayer is about – it is about being in the mess and the mystery and being truthful with oneself and having compassion for oneself.      

Brother David Steindl-Rast explains we need to keep our heart open to the meaning of life.  The attitude of gratefulness enables us to keep our hearts open –especially in the mess.  Therefore Steindl-Rast concludes,  gratefulness is prayerfulness.  So the next time you hear the song,“Lord won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?” or see a Mercedes Benz, ask your self “What am I grateful for today?”

Steindl-Rast  asks,  “Unless we wake up to the countless opportunities to enjoy life, how can we expect to be awake when the opportunity comes to serve life?”  An attitude of gratefulness enables us to drink deeply from the source of meaning and enables us to awake when opportunity comes. This too is prayer.

Song by Janis Joplin and Michael McClure

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?
My friends all drive porches, I must make amends.
I’ve worked hard all my lifetime, with no help from my friends.
So, Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a color TV?
Dialing for dollars is trying to find me
I wait for delivery each day until 3, so
Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a color TV?

Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a night on the town?
I’m counting on you Lord, so please don’t let me down.
Prove that you love me and buy the next round, so
Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a night on the town?