Prayer’s Vital Component Is Sincerity

A friend of mine was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks ago. She is a woman I’ve visited with regularly over the years. We shared stories of child rearing and the struggles of balancing employment and domestic life and laughed together about the comic aspects of life in the suburbs.

She’s one of those “perfect” people--a woman you could easily be jealous of if she weren’t so down to earth and nice.

Like many “supermoms” in this area, she is highly educated and a dedicated mother who spends her days off at the children’s school, does good works in the community, and seems to balance effortlessly the roles of suburban professional and good parent.

She didn’t seem to need any more education--especially not the kind of lessons taught by such a serious illness.

Upon hearing of her breast cancer, my first reaction was that I had to do something. But what should be done? Of course there were many practical things to do, and her family and close friends swooped into action.

She dived into the task of finding the best doctor and researching all medical options. The doctor was found and surgery was scheduled. Friends and neighbors made sure meals would be cooked and that the kids would be shuttled to and from school.

Despite the stereotype of suburban alienation, many Orange County communities support small, friendly neighborhoods that pull together in times of need.

Finally, there was nothing left to do but pray. For some reason, however, this seemed complicated for me. Would it do any good to pray? Dare I tell God what to do? Was there a great cosmic plan behind this illness that I didn’t understand? Wasn’t the creator of the world at least as smart as I? Didn’t he, she, or it know that this shouldn’t have happened in the first place? Maybe God gave us medical science to deal with these things and didn’t want to be bothered anymore.

I was angry and confused. Somehow that intimate communication with God known as prayer became strained and difficult. When I was a child, my best friend was stricken with a difficult-to-control case of juvenile diabetes.

We were 10, and the complexity of the disease was beyond us. We both simply understood that she felt awful and couldn’t do the things we liked to do--like wandering the hills behind our homes and playing chase in our frontyards.

We both wondered what would happen next. Having been raised in a strongly Hispanic and Roman Catholic community, for me prayer was as much a part of life as eating and sleeping.

The innocence and guilelessness of youth made the prayer easy and simple: “Please God, make my friend be OK.”

I repeated it every night for years, effortlessly and confidently.

As an adult, I studied many philosophies and religions. I examined countless doctrines and dogmas, comparing and contrasting religious ideas, searching for the one that carried the seed of ultimate truth. Each tradition offered ideas and techniques regarding prayer. None seemed relevant to my present confusion.

Prayer goes beyond technique, doctrines or dogmas. As some of the more mystical religions have shown us, it even goes beyond words. Some religions say it’s OK to ask for things, even material wealth.

Some traditions that rely on the concepts of fate or providence emphasize acceptance. Some suggest that the faithful not offer opinions or request specific outcomes, but should humbly “lift up” the person or situation in prayer.

Many Christians routinely pray the Lord’s Prayer without realizing the radical submissiveness of spirit required to honestly say, “Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven.”

The varieties of prayer are as numerous and unique as the individuals praying. I sorted through my repertoire of methods.

I tried emptying my mind and sending out healing energy. I tried “lifting up” my friend and her loved ones. I asked God to send comfort and acceptance to all involved regardless of the outcome. I tried the radical “Thy will be done,” but a small voice in the back of my head kept saying “but only if You are going to make everything come out well!”

My efforts felt empty and stilted. I finally realized that sincerity was more important than virtuosity when it comes to prayer. I simply needed to do something.

It was time to set aside all intellectual egoism and offer the honest, humble prayer of my youth: “Please God, make my friend be OK.”

On Faith is a forum for Orange County clergy and others to offer their views on religious topics of general interest. Submissions, which will be published at the discretion of The Times and are subject to editing, should be delivered to Orange County religion page editor William Lobdell.