The Five Second Prayer

I've been giving a lot of thought to this article, that Ducks pointed me towards earlier (thanks!). The summary:

An MIT class has estimated the carbon emissions of Americans in a wide variety of lifestyles -- from the homeless to multimillionaires, from Buddhist monks to soccer moms -- and compared them to those of other nations. The somewhat disquieting bottom line is that in the United States, even the people with the lowest usage of energy are still producing, on average, more than double the global per-capita average.

This is because they are assuming that even the homeless are responsible for the CO2 produced by their share of streetlights, police services, transportation infrastructure, and other "public goods." That's not a bad way to calculate things. I do believe if we want to make a serious effort to curb our impact on the environment, then we have to make that decision as a society for it to have any real results. This study just confirms that, in my mind -- our society is wasteful on a truly grand scale.

Now, this begs the question, of course: Sam, aren't you just another damn eco-zombie, so concerned with your stupid worms and recycling and taking the CTA when all those things don't make any difference? Why not just eat, drink and be merry until the government taxes the hell out of gas, hamburgers, and the American way? Or until we destroy our planet (or at least our place in it) because we can't reach a consensus about how to curb ourselves?

But there is something to all this that goes beyond quantitative measures of CO2 (although yes, I care about that too). For me, this is not just about footprints and carbon sinks. When I sort paper or dig through dark, rich compost mulch or try to find ways to use a little less plastic, I feel connected to something larger than myself. Something big and eternal and maybe a little scary. Something one can't truly escape and can't fully confront.

This is prayer.

Prayer, for many, is quiet and powerful. They can sit silently, quietly thinking, communing with higher powers. For them, prayer is done with hands clasped, hands raised, quietly or singing, standing or sitting, alone or in church.

I have occasionally felt something in those contexts, but my daily prayers are very different. Often less than five seconds, these are silent -- not just unvoiced, but unarticulated. Certainly they would go unrecognized for what they are. This is not about words, but about action. Ritual action, perhaps (Victor Turner, anyone?).

I describe myself as a deist (no, I don't agree with everything or everyone associated with that philosophy, but isn't that normal for any religious community?). I believe seriously in the mystery of Creation as something ever-changing, ever evolving. Considering the diversity on this planet -- how many beetles? what is living on the bottom of the ocean? -- let alone other planets in the universe, I cannot believe God is confined by gender, language, culture -- or humanity. Or that It cares more about humans than about mosquitoes, or bacteria, or octopuses. One day Creation will not include me, or you, or humans at all. I don't buy that we are the end-product of Creation, the masterpiece of the universe, God's only children.

I also don't believe that God (or whatever you want to call it) explains Itself primarily in books or words. I don't have a problem with other religions, mind you (not even the one I left). We don't all have the same hobbies, the same passions; I can't see any evidence that God wants us all to join the same religion. But God did create a "text," if you will. It is all around us -- not confined the page -- even if our experience of it is akin to the blind men and the elephant.

If God doesn't speak to us in words alone, then why do we think that our prayers need to be limited to that genre? My prayers are actions. Like turning off the lights. Like turning off my computer power cord. Like composting. Like planting native plants that feed butterflies. Little actions premised on the idea that little things matter, and maybe, eventually, can lead to bigger things.

Flip the switch. Amen.