An Atheist Prays

Nov 16 2017

Can an atheist pray?

Perhaps the secret to his prayers

is the certainty

they have no effect.

So the non-believer

has no hope of intercession.

Is not asking for the grace

to do the right thing

or have His will revealed.

Is not bargaining for love

justice

strength.

No, an atheist's prayer

is an intentional act

of gratitude

and wonder

and praise.

For the accident of birth.

For improbable life

on this unlikely planet.

For the sweetness of fruit

plucked from its stem

on a hot summer day,

warm juice

sticking to his fingers

dribbling down his chin.

An expression

not intended

for omniscient eyes and ears,

but simply to be said

for its own sake.

To intensify the wonder.

To clarify

those moments of transcendence

he feels his boundaries soften

attachments fray.

I cannot reconcile

the virtue of humility

with the personal God

who accompanies the faithful.

Because I am insignificant,

unworthy of such attention.

And also because

I do not believe in justice

when evil so often prevails,

cannot abide myths

of mercy and love

when the good too often suffer.

I do not kneel, clasp hands, close my eyes.

Do not repeat

the prescribed incantations

or speak from the heart

or cry-out in extremis.

But I still do right,

if only because

I choose to be the kind of man who does.

Still give thanks,

if only because

the countless contingencies, and accidents

and blind intersections of fate

that led to this

are so much more marvellous

than any man-made god

who simply waved it into being.

The consolation of prayer is seductive

and I, too, feel its allure.

And I also know that faith is hard

and how the faithful struggle.

How its constant companion is doubt,

and how the space between the two

is filled by prayer.

So many voices

rising up, all at once

in a symphony of longing,

new ones chiming in

as weary ones decay.

Who ask for nothing.

Who sing their praise.

Who give thanks

for the sweetness of days,

the warm touch

of night's embrace.