Don’t Just Pray, Do Something!

Last night, the sadly not-so-unthinkable happened in Paris. Of course, we grieve. Of course, we stand in solidarity with the people of France. All fine, all good. Stand and grieve, grieve and stand.

But it is not enough.

Almost immediately, social media was flooded with #prayforparis, photos and memes urging us to pray, and peace signs integrating the Eiffel Tower. A day later, on Facebook, the trend is to superimpose the French flag over your profile picture to show your empathy and sympathy for the people of France, along with all the prayers. I expect that churches, temples, synagogues, and mosques around the world will be filled with prayers for France. All fine, all good.  Prayers and flags, flags and prayers.

But it is not enough.

I am not one who holds to the theology that if only we pray hard enough or long enough or in just the right way believing just the right things that the Big Daddy in the Sky will give us what we want, whether that is a good parking spot, or a miraculous cure, or perhaps to smite those who harm us with pestilence and thunderbolts. Nope. It doesn’t work like that, folks. Don’t believe me?  Open your eyes. I dare you.

For every claim of a miracle cure, there are so many more whose prayers were not answered, whose loved one died of the cancer anyway. For every one whose house was miraculously spared from the tornado, there are so many more whose houses were destroyed, who prayed just as hard, whose faith was just as strong and who are left to pick up the pieces of shattered lives. For every one who hid in a corner, in a closet, in a basement, who were not found by the invading army, or the Nazis, or Boko Haram, or ISIS, there were a thousand who were found, who were taken, who were murdered. So no, do not speak to me of a capricious god who spares one and destroys another just because, just because…

Do not speak to me of a fickle god who gives a damn about parking places, or coffee cups, or whether one says Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas, and yet allows toddlers to wash up, dead, onto beaches. Such a petty and small deity is not worth my time.

At its best, prayer changes us, the ones doing the praying. At its best, it can open our hearts, grow our compassion, and transform bitterness into empathy. At its best, it connects us to something greater than our own tiny lives, that we may at times call Divine. So yes, pray for Paris.

Then do something.

Engage in a random act of kindness. Help an elderly neighbor with his groceries, or help him get his trash can to the curb. Hold the door open for the mom struggling with a toddler. Leave some coins in the laundromat washer, so someone gets a load done for free. Do something more, a little extra, that you wouldn’t have done otherwise. Do it for Paris.

Make a donation to a charity in memory of those who died in the streets, theaters, and cafes of Paris. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Donate what you can afford. Pick a charity with a good financial record, one that does good work rather than line the pockets of its CEO. Do a little research, then donate. Do it for Paris.

Speak up against radical fundamentalism of any kind. Challenge the theology of that petty, small, fussy god who blesses the televangelist but turns away the homeless, the addicted, and the refugee. Speak up against hate. Speak up for peace. Speak up for love. Do it for Paris.

Speak up, and keep on speaking up.  Do what you can, and keep doing it. Give what you can, and keep giving.

Pray if you wish, but then get busy. There is always work to be done.