Blessings I’ve been thinking about rote prayer. I don’t do it myself, any more. I had lunch with a friend who always prays before meals, even in public. He discreetly rubs his forehead or casually covers his eyes, in order to spare...his dinner companions? fellow diners? himself?..... It’s a civilized, courteous, Caucasian gesture, although I believe the prayer of my friend from South Carolina is Buddhist in expression, with strong waves of Hindu and Southern Baptist. Ecumenical, he practices Kriya Yoga and T’ai Chi and has a teacher named Dr. Wong. He goes into his closet to pray, and rubbing his forehead is his way of closing the door. When my grandmother “returned thanks”, she always leaned her elbow on the table and laid her forehead on her hand (she wears a blue dress in my memory of that pose); she really leaned on the Lord in a physical gesture. When I was little at my grandmother’s table, I said the children’s prayer, the one that all children said in the very same way: GodisgreatGodisgoodGodwethankyouforthisfood. Amen. Fast. A means to an end. The men, except for Daddy, always said the same one, too. Some fast, some slow, but the same prayer. Lord, we ask your blessing on this food which we are about to receive. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and our bodies to thy service. Guide, guard and direct us, in Jesus name, Amen. So they said thanks and then threw in something extra about the purpose of the food and the purpose of the man. It takes nourishment to serve God and work and have a family. The women were always slow. They always got a lot more grateful for the food, like they’d seen times when there wasn’t much to pray over. They always blessed the hands that provided and prepared it, too. They got in a word or two about loved ones with problems or just far away from home and they usually ended with a plea for help. It wasn’t ever anything like help the coal last out the winter. It was about leading a good life or knowing what to do. They finished up real nice and acted like it did them some good. Blessings, they called them. Some people said “say the blessing”, some people said “ask the blessing” and “give thanks” and “return thanks”. My daddy appeared not to believe in God (I had the impression that it was related to World War II). He often would say, “Say the prayer, if you’re going to.” Sometimes Mama would give the extra long prayer when he said that too much. I always hoped that my little brother didn’t spill his milk when that happened. It hated it when Daddy would push his little face down into the milk. We had to sit real still and act like it was OK. And then nobody would want to eat but we had to sit there till we finished everything on our plates. So anyway, about prayer before a meal. I don’t do it any more.
Posted on: Mon, 16 Sep 2013 19:37:02 +0000
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