Reason Breeds Insanity

I recommend, if you ever get the chance and you aren’t easily offended, that you go hear Sherman Alexie read. Last night I had the opportunity to hear him at Butler University, and I don’t think I have ever heard a better speaker or reader in my life. One minute I was laughing, the next I was wondering who he was going to rant about next. My favorite moment for the evening was when a woman in the audience asked him: “What one thing do you want White American to know about Native American culture?” He asked all the Euro-Americans in the audience to raise their hands: “Now if you speak one of your native European tribal languages, keep your hand up. If you don’t put it down.” About twenty people still had their hands in the air: “Now put them back up. All you Euro-Americans put them back up. If you practice a tribal custom every day, keep them up. If you don’t put them down.” Almost everyone put their hands down. Then he said, “That’s sad. You’re losing your languages, you’re losing your customs, you’re losing touch with your roots and ancestors. That’s sad. It’s sad that you can’t speak your ancestors tongues…” and he went on. Finally, he said, “That’s what I want White Americans to know.” We were left to infer. I am not sure that most people got it.

Today has been long. Longer than most days have been. I am not sure why. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I am tired. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I just want to write. I don’t want to read for class. I want to write my memories and other people’s memories in beautiful, articulate language. I want to have time to write what I want to write when I want to write it.

Right now I am buried under books I have little interest in with a stack of them that I do have interest in waiting like batters on deck for some opportunity to make the big play. When you want it too badly, you strike out. Humility and skill hit the home runs. I am buried under assignments that suck like little leeches my attention from my wanderlust of my pen to the deeds that must be done. I must read, I must write, I must grade. I must press on. I am a wandering Jew in a desert of must-get-this-done.

I went to watch the BSU football game today and I have to say that I was really proud of my students and former student. And, I want to take this opportunity to take back all the whining I did about student athletes when I was an undergrad. Even though my dad was a BSU wrestler, I used to think they got a free ride. My dad never talked about how hard he worked to keep up his grades, to maintain a healthy student life, to date my mom, and to practice on top of it. From watching my student athletes, I know now how hard they work. I know they bust their asses. I can also say that the student athletes I have had in class have been some of the most respectful and participatory students, too. I don’t say this to negate my other students, but just to renege on all my undergrad comments about how nice it must be for some students to have their school paid for, for playing a game. I was wrong. I admit it.

I also have to say that I appreciate any student who goes above and beyond the call of duty: the young man who sings so much his throat is constantly sore; the women (and men) who have children; the ones who run past my house singing cadence at 5AM; the techies who are up at all hours fixing sets, adjusting lighting, and testing sound; the future architects who spend hours on end in their cubicles in a building shaped like a drawing table; the art majors who come to class high (on life and art supplies, I am sure); the education majors who will teach our children; and, every student who works hard putting himself or herself through college no matter what major. I will never understand the others: if you are going to college on mommy and daddy’s buck, you owe them more than empty beer cans and sexual experiences you won’t remember tomorrow. Trust me. You owe them your best. I don’t mean that college isn’t a time for experimentation, partying, and getting to know who you are. It is. It wouldn’t be college if it wasn’t.

The book of James is one of my favorite books of the Bible. I never grow tired of reading it, and I never stop learning from it. I am amazed that I am challenged by it every time, and I mean challenged in the very core of my being. That said, I have been thinking a lot about prayer lately. Consciously, I don’t pray much. I don’t sit down and have a heart to heart with God. I usually try to pray/think. Because I spend so much time in contemplation, thinking about life and how to relate my world to something gracefilled, I find that I never simply sit and pray. Basically, the words of James remind me that I am a prayer slacker. I don’t pray when I should, and when I shoudl rejoice, I attribute my successes to my own good will. However, when I read James, I see that part of our Christian life is prayer, and not the way I do it:

Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise. Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.
Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.

I am well aware of the ways that this particular Scripture has been used to tell people they don’t have enough faith to be healed. One of my good friends had cancer. As she was fighting for her life, a pastor of a “healing” church told her she just didn’t have enough faith, she wasn’t righteous enough. If she was either faithful or righteous, she would be healed. They sighted the King James version of this Scripture. I actually think the King James is beautifully worded, but it doesn’t include women (I jsut need a tNIV Bible): “The effectual fervant prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” Effectual fervant prayer does avail much, but it doesn’t mean that if you don’t get the answer you want that you don’t have enough faith or righteousness. It might mean that God’s answer, [Their] will might be different from yours. In fact, I would wager my whole paycheck, which isn’t much, that the case is that we want what we want and sometimes all the prayer in the world will not sway God.

Which brings me to my weirdness about prayer. What is the point of it really? Surely, we cannot presume to think that our wishes sway God’s will. So is prayer really more for us, that through it we are slowly swayed into God’s will. That [Their] response has not changed, but that our response to [Them] has changed. For example, if as a child, I really want a bicycle, and I pray every day for a bicycle. I never get the bicycle. Initially, I get pissed and whiny, because I really want the bike. Eventually, I realize I am never going to get a bike, so I am resigned to that. Finally, I recognize that I was stubborn, and reconcile my desires to the will of God. I am not getting a bike for whatever reason, and all the petitioning is not going to secure a bike for me. I begin to realize there are more important things than my bike. My will has bent toward God’s will.

Do I disbelieve the power of prayer? Honestly, possibly. Probably? Not really. I think we can petition for God’s grace and love, but I think we are bound by Jesus’ own words in John:

You did not choose me, I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. These things I command you, so that you will love one another.

Mostly I am annoyed with the “In Jesus’ name, Amen” at the end of prayers, because it has become a little magical charm that we use to seal our prayers. How many times have you said it? How many times have you paused to really consider what it means? We pretend, I think, that because we say “in Jesus’ name” at the end that we have prayed in accordance with God’s will, and that God, the Father, is obligated to answer our prayers because we have asked in Jesus’ name. There is more to it than that: we are to be so closely knit with Jesus and his ideals that we can pray within God’s will. If you read these verses in context (novel concept, huh?), we are to be the branches on the vine. If you know anything about plants, nothing gets to the small branches without going through the main branch first. Our very essence comes from that main branch of that vine, which is Jesus. So, praying in Jesus’ name is much more than a magical addendum to a selfish prayer. Praying in Jesus’ name should be about praying what Jesus might pray. I never do that. I almost always—when I do pray—pray for things I want, pray for things to turn out the way I want them to, or pray for people to think or do what I think they should think or do. Jesus doesn’t pray for those things. How can I presume to pray in his name? Why do I go on pretending to even be like him? What Jesus prays is:

Let your kingdom come, let your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us, as we forgive. Don’t lead us into temptation, but deliver us.

Pretty different from:

My friend lost his job, can you get him a new one? Better than the last one, and possibly with a raise, a company car, and benefits.

I’m just saying. My prayers aren’t Jesus’ prayers. They aren’t even close. So, I’ve been thinking about it and I wonder why I still love the book of James?

I have been reading so much for class, I can’t remember what goes on in any of it. I keep getting Momaday mixed up with Lopez blended in with Bordo topped with some Trussoni. If I mix it all together, what do I have? A fat-bisexual-motorcycle-riding-Mexican-identity-confused-Indian-soldier-in-Vietnam-tunnel-rat. Interesting. Potentially more interesting than each one considered in its own right, but far more confusing as well. I think my brain may be telling me that nothing else will fit. Not one more thing can be squeezed in between the folds of my cerebral cortex. Not one more electrical impulse can ease across my synapses. I am done: stick a fork in me. If it goes in easily, remove me from the water. If it doesn’t leave me in a bit longer.

Watch this for laughs: