In West Virginia, 12 families were tragically misinformed that their loved ones, miners trapped far underground by an explosion, had survived. Their immediate reaction was to sing hymns of praise to God for sparing them, for answering their prayers, for granting this miracle.
Three hours later came the truth--12 of the 13 trapped miners were dead. The prayers, it seems, had gone unanswered after all; the miracle had not occurred. My thoughts and condolences go out to the bereaved, but I send no prayers. I don’t believe in them.
This is my question: If an omnipotent god was truly interested in the well-being of these miners, why had this god allowed the explosion to occur in the first place? What were the prayers supposed to accomplish…to get him to change his mind? If the families first thought their loved ones had been saved by God, shouldn’t they then be blaming God for their deaths?
I’ve heard the answers to these questions—bromides and platitudes. “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” we are told, or “God needed a new angel in heaven.” Spare me. I wonder if the clergy and faithful who spout this blather really believe it themselves. I would much prefer someone telling me, “It’s not fair. They didn’t deserve to die. Be bitter, be angry.”
The truth is that twelve men suffocated in an unsafe mine, a mine that had been cited over and over for safety violations. Their families are now husbandless, fatherless, brotherless, childless. Yet the bereaved continue to gather in a Baptist Church, singing hymns, praising their god. I sincerely wish for them any consolation these actions can bring. I just don’t understand.
New York Mining Disaster, 1941—Barry and Robin Gibb
In the event of something happening to me,
there is something I would like you all to see.
It's just a photograph of someone that I knew.
Have you seen my wife, Mr. Jones?
Do you know what it's like on the outside?
Don't go talking too loud, you'll cause a landslide, Mr. Jones.
I keep straining my ears to hear a sound.
Maybe someone is digging underground,
or have they given up and all gone home to bed,
thinking those who once existed must be dead.
Have you seen my wife, Mr. Jones?
Do you know what it's like on the outside?
Don't go talking too loud, you'll cause a landslide, Mr. Jones.
14 comments:
I don't believe in those kinds of prayers either. And as you know, I DO believe in prayer. Hmmm. . . something to write about some day.
A couple of years ago a lady at my church decided to tell me the story of how her daughter-in-law almost died -- apparently did die, in fact, for a matter of moments -- while giving birth to her first child. The mother-in law went on to tell me how she and her husband had been in the waiting room praying and how God had answered their prayers -- her dil was fine and their grandson is now a wonderful young man in his 20s.
I decided not to mention that she was telling me this story on the anniversary of the death of my very young mother and baby brother.
For every prayer "answered" and every recovery or lifesaving event, there is someone next to you for whom the result has been the opposite.
I don't pretend to understand the mystery of intercessory or petitionary prayer, but it's definitely not about God the Magician.
As usual, you've said it so much better than most...and I remember that song, and I got chills reading the lyrics here...very apropos.
Judi
I smear OSHA. What a shame, almost criminal!
Hard to put a price on a daddy, brother or uncle...
Ticks me off when I hear of such things...good entry though.
Whoopsie! Not SMEAR I meant to type Smell.
Simmer...slowly and i may just type something corectly. LOL
TJ
Thank you for examining this angle. All the religiously induced hysteria and mass effects of "miracle-ism" are what led to the tragic bungling of the story in the first place.
Those churchgoers were so programmed for "miracles" that their critical faculties and common sense deserted them just when they needed them the most. They took an ambiguously-worded message and turned it into some sort of Praise-the-Lawd revival circus.
As I was watching the "12-Alive" story catch fire Tuesday night, I heard an on-site reporter saying that the churchgoers were preparing food becuse the miners were being transported directly from the disaster site to the church. I thought: "What the hell? Since when does a rescue team ever transport disaster survivors to a freakin' church instead of a hospital?" Clearly, these people were not operating with a clear head.
I don't understand it either. I ask myself this question all the time.
If one believes in this omnipotent diety, then this diety has allowed this disaster/atrocity/act of mayhem/what-have-you to occurr; if an outcome is positive, he is praised for mercy and for sparing the believers; if negative, it's all part of a divine plan? Really?
The ability to think critically, once deemed a virtue in this country, has been replaced with a fervent embrace of the supernatural. As you say, spare me.
I'd forgotten about that song. It is all just too sad. This is such a tragedy.
I did not follow the story so I only knew of the report that 12 of them survived the cave-in. What a tragedy and it could have been prevented.
I lived exactly that kind of miracle/curse roller coaster when my sister was struggling through her final illness ten years ago. It is painful beyond words. At the end of her ordeal, I had lost more than my sister...I had lost my faith as well. I am now a card-carrying agnostic.
Why does God "allow" anything to happen. Right here in Ft. Wayne a 10 year old girl was plucked off the street on the way to school right before Christams and found right after Christmas dead and more than likely sexually abused. Why? I think the circumstances were miscommunicated to the authorities who then miscommunicated them some more to the families. My heart breaks for them, pain then hope, then joy, then disbelief. There is no way to make sense of it. At least believing in a God gives an anchor to this crazy screwed up world.
So you are questioning intellligent design? I better be careful what I say here, because it's Sunday.
Paul,
That BeeGee song has been playing over and over through my head this past week, like a broken record that just won't stop playing. I could even visualize in my mind's eye the miners themselves perhaps singing it together as they realized they were going to die. I used to like that song. I hate it now.
You're right. We don't understand. We can only ask questions and this entry of yours has provoked far too many thoughts and ideas and responses inside my brain to recapitulate here.
Your entry and the thoughts you have raised, may actually force me to rise out of my lethargic indifference of late and actually do my own entry regarding this tragedy.
But then again, does anyone really care to know what I am thinking?
No matter. I'll write it for myself.
Thank-you.
My heart breaks for what those people have lived through...and what they are facing in the days to come.
Prayer is something that has always kind of baffled me. I don't believe that God is micromanaging each and every life here on earth. I've had to learn that bad things just happen. Nothing or anything could change an event at any given time. People pray because there are times when they feel it's the only thing they can do. They want some control and I guess they feel their relationship with God will give them that. I don't know how they reconcile when prayers aren't answered. I do feel the "explanations" for unanswered prayer are completely lame.
I began reading Maryanne's blog entry about this (she linked your site), and I needed to see what you had said.
What you wrote is interesting. Many people have (and some battle) the very thoughts you expressed.
Now, I will read the rest of her post.
I would much prefer someone telling me, “It’s not fair. They didn’t deserve to die. Be bitter, be angry.”
ah but bitterness kills the soul...
God or no god.
Anger is good but bitterness is a seed of destruction, I think.
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