An Agnostic's Prayer

The voice that will not quit.

AN AGNOSTIC’S PRAYER

I only ask of God that I don’t become indifferent to the pain…

I only ask of God that I don’t become indifferent to the injustice…

I only ask of God that I don’t become indifferent to the war…

I only ask of God that I don’t become indifferent to the deceit…

I only ask of God that I don’t become indifferent to the future…

-              León Gieco, Solo le Pido a Dios

I get it. The religion thing. We crave guidance. Someone to tell us what’s right and wrong, to sort life’s vexatious gray areas into tidy stacks of black and white. Someone to forgive us when we screw up. Someone we can appeal to when we’re lost and in need of help. Someone who hears us when we cry please please please please please.

That’s what I did on so many nights leading up to this election. Even though I’m agnostic. I sat on my couch or lay in my bed and said please please please please please. Not knowing who I was speaking to, but speaking all the same. Please, I said, please. Let it not be him. Let this not be the face our nation shows the world. Let this vindictive, capricious, extremely dangerous individual not hold the fate of millions of lives—human and non-human—in the palm of his cadaverous hand.

But even as I said the words, as my heart opened into the sound of please please please please, a part of my brain was telling me that other people were praying for the opposite outcome.

How would that work, then? I wondered. Would someone up there tally the number of prayers on one side versus the other the way they tally votes down here? Or would they somehow weigh the relative sincerity or underlying motivations behind these prayers? And if sincerity were the key, how much would the prayers of an agnostic like me weigh?

I shook my head at my own ridiculous thoughts. What bullshit, said an inner voice. Yet even as my brain nattered on like an annoying talk show host, my heart kept right on intoning its rhythmic tattoo: please please please please please.

And even now, in the cold aftermath of our national decision, this heart that knows no logic continues its recitation, please please please please please.

What is it even asking for now?

Let me not become indifferent?

Let my children not become indifferent?

Let my children be okay?

Let all children be okay?

That’s it, I think. And yet I know all children are not okay. Children in Gaza are not okay. Children in Ukraine are not okay. So many children right here, in these so-called United States, are not okay.

So what are you asking for, heart, as you continue right on with your relentless incantation, please please please please please?

May all innocent beings be safe, healthy, cared for and loved.

And I realize something: This is the prayer, impossible as it is to achieve. In the face of all my thinking mind offers up, my heart just goes right on beating, please please please please please.

You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it, says The Talmud. I take that to mean we’re not supposed to give up. Even if I don’t believe an immortal being wrote those words, I can feel their eternal wisdom.

I therefore thank the God or Goddess I don’t believe in for making my heart so utterly useless at logic, because it’s this irrational heart with its please please please please please that keeps me getting up and moving forward, trying to build a better tomorrow for all beings, no matter what.

May yours do the same for you.

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Writing in community provides an opportunity to connect with your deepest self within a nurturing creative circle. In December, I’m offering three-week mini-sessions of Off-Leash Writing Workshops. These short sessions give new students and opportunity to check out the process and continuing participants a chance to stay connected to your creative soul during these sometimes overwhelming winter months. Learn more and register here.