Prayer is a declaration of weakness. We pray to a higher power, entrusting our troubles to it. We admit an inability to accomplish that which is our ambition. Pride manyatime prohibits prayer, evolving into ego. “What need have I of a higher power?” Or perhaps, and this may be more egregious, one disbelieves the existence of such higher powers as can be prayed to, there existing only powers to prey upon. “Who do I, myself god of my life, pray to? Who, but I, has power to help me?”
Prayer is not an answer to that question. It assumes its own answers. For the first, it says, “You need higher powers, for you cannot alone survive.” To quote the poet John Donne,
No man is an island,
Entire of itself;
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
As for the second question, an answer is not needed, as long as it exists. It does not, so much, matter who or what one prays to, so long as one does pray, and admit to that power beyond, that helplessness has become of me, and in thy infinite wisdom, assist me, that I may glorify thee.
I said earlier that in prayer, we entrust troubles. That is wrong, or at least, not wholly correct. In true prayer, one must also entrust victory. To not do so, is to be unjust and selfish. It is on these lines that the poet Iqbal wrote
maiñ jo sara bāsajdā huā kabhī, to zamīñ se āne lagī sadā
terā dila to hai sanama āṣanā, tujhe kyā milegā namāz meñ
If I am to dare to translate to Iqbal’s words, this roughly translates to the following,
when I bent my head in prayer, the voice of the earth spoke,
your heart is married to material desire, what can you ever find in prayer
Dear reader, I must confess here that very often has this verse haunted me. Despite all claims, I do desire, and greatly. I have desired many things, and continue to do so. It could be argued that desire has been a driving force in my life. I have desired to possess, to produce, and even to destroy. By the logic of Iqbal, this would make me unfit for prayer.
In fact, outside the confines of this temple, I seldom pray. Perhaps I pray to the night, because it has been party to these desires. They were birthed in the darkness, and formed by them. This is how I learned, say, to photograph, or even, to think. If I have learnt in a temple, am I not qualified to pray in it? Alas, who but the mystical night can say.
Signed by the Second Priest, on this night of April 2024, at 0354.