[MD] The Prayer of Atheists

[kgt83dr at yahoo.com]

How do people respond to Quality, "the source of all things?"  It seems to me
that we're either defending static patterns of value or we're intimately involved
with Dynamic Quality.
  
I doubt the following applies to all atheists.  I post it here in case it applies to
some.
   
  
Kevin Perez
  
>From "Prelude to Prayer: The Prayer of Atheists" by Ichiro Okumura, OCD.
<http://www.carmelite.com/saints/other/j_3.htm>
  
     [...] in the case of atheists far removed from God, we cannot claim purely
     and simply that they have rejected God. Even those who think they have
     definitely rejected God are never rejected by God, or they would disappear
     like a shooting star! A being capable of denying God would have to be
     another God or superior to God; yet the existence of another God (given
     that God is infinite) would be in radical contradiction to the divine nature.
     The rejection of God is nothing other than the fruit of a despair springing
     from the impossibility of "ridding oneself" of God once and for all. This
     eternal attack on God whom we cannot deny, and the anguish of the soul
     torn by this failure, would, on the contrary, constitute the paradoxical proof
     of God's existence. In his novel Nausea Sartre writes: 
  
          If anyone had asked me what existence was, I would have
          answered, in good faith, that it was nothing; simply an empty
          form which was added to external things without changing
          anything in their nature.' We were a heap of living creatures,
          irritated, embarrassed at ourselves, we hadn't the slightest
          reason to be there, none of us, each one, confused, vaguely
          alarmed, felt in the way in relation to the others. In the way: it
          was the only relationship I could establish between these
          trees, these gates, these stones.' In the way, the chestnut
          tree there, opposite me, a little to the left.' And I soft, weak,
          obscene, digesting, juggling with dismal thoughts I, too, was
          In the way. Fortunately, I didn't feel it, although I realized it,
          but I was uncomfortable because I was afraid of feeling it.' I
          dreamed vaguely of killing myself to wipe out at least one of
          these superfluous lives. But even my death would have been
          In the way. In the way, my corpse, my blood on these
          stones, between these plants, at the back of this smiling
          garden. And the decomposed flesh would have been In the
          way in the earth which would receive my bones, at last,
          cleaned, stripped, peeled, proper and clean as teeth, it would
          have been In the way; I was In the way for eternity.(1)
  
     Sartre's text expresses too clearly, alas, the despair of this existentialist
     in his relentless effort to deny God. It is the obdurate disillusionment of
     one who dreams of a world free in the nothingness of a godless existence.
     Once God is rejected, anxiety, trouble, and anguish stealthily well up in
     the soul. It has been said that after his conversion Pascal sewed, in the
     lining of his coat, the words: "Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy."(2) Sartre's
     sarcastic parody of these words "Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy; God does not
     exist, alleluia" expresses the cruel nihilism that tormented him. Did Sartre
     succeed in denying God all the way? Or is his rather the anguished call of
     a man whose angry hand reached in vain to remove the mask of a
     man-made caricature of God, while he cried out to the true God whose
     name he did not know? I do not presume to judge, yet I believe that this
     cry of Sartre betrays the deep torment he could not free himself from.
     
       In reading this excerpt from Sartre's Nausea, I immediately thought of St.
     Thomas's reflection on the contingency of creatures, in which he proposes
     a radically different solution by positing the existence of the Necessary
     Being.(3) Is not Sartre's anguish, his denial of God, a most eloquent
     testimony of God's very existence? Indeed, in the face of this centrifugal
     movement that tends to distance humanity from God, another power
     manifests itself, an equally intense centripetal power that brings humanity
     closer to God. This invisible power exercised by God reveals itself through
     anguish. If prayer consists in seeking God, then the anguish of one who
     denies God reveals precisely an inarticulate desire to sound the depths of
     prayer. And to go a step further, this very anguish can be called the
     "reverse side of prayer," or "anti-prayer."
  
     To be capable of hatred is also to be capable of the greatest possible love.
     Among the many persecutors of God, some, like St. Paul, came to be
     chosen vessels of his love. However, though the majority of people, for
     better or worse, do not rebel against God, they do not actively desire
     God's love in any way. Many virtuous and cultured people plan to live
     "uprightly" without God or religion. Many among them can justly be called
     "the wise of the world." They say with Confucius: "At fifteen I set my heart
     on learning; at thirty I took my stand; at forty I came to be free from
     doubts; at fifty I understood the Decree of Heaven; at sixty my ear was
     attuned; at seventy I followed my heart's desire without overstepping the
     line." (4) These persons do not deny God or despise those who pray.
     Nevertheless and leaving aside pride it is obvious that they experience
     nothing but intense emptiness when they kneel before an altar. To say, for
     example, that God is present in a special way on an altar or in the temple
     sounds childish to them. As Kant says, the moral law written in the
     human heart is the most beautiful foundation of their faith; such tranquility
     of spirit, such confidence in one's judgment merits, without any irony, the
     greatest respect.
  
     However and this may be an illusion on my part I sometimes sense a
     subtle and apparently inexplicable shadow on the faces of persons who
     have a great opinion of their own importance. They certainly understand
     how to live, but they fail to face the most fundamental questions, such as
     "What is existence?" or "Who am I?" Such individuals are not
     unconscious of such problems; in fact they are perfectly aware of the
     danger that lies in confronting them. Is it the fear of being drawn into this
     bottomless quagmire, or do they fear a compromise with their own
     mediocrity? One senses in them a deep sadness and a last secret
     weakness against which they feel powerless. And hidden pain often
     becomes unbearable when they least expect it. Perhaps it hits them on a
     night when they are hurrying home, alone, shivering under a downpour of
     rain or in a train as they stare thoughtlessly at the gray and overcast sky;
     suddenly the ordinary passage of time, imperceptible externally, strikes
     against a black submerged reef. And when this happens the confidence
     that had seemed to direct everything so peacefully suddenly collapses.
     Not even a "my God" comes to the lips. This "holy sadness" must not be
     defiled by human words. And yet this muted sigh rising from a wounded
     soul appears to me to be the most beautiful yearning for the Eternal.
  
          Oh, the beauty of those who know how to cry 
          in everything! 
          A deep serenity is their heritage. 
          Oh, the beauty of those tears 
          shed profusely.... 
          They beautify the dreams of mere creatures. 
          How I bless these endearing showers of tears. 
          I love their ephemeral existence, and the 
          wonder that falls with them.
  
               Saisei Muro (1889 1962) 
  
     These sincere people, apparently atheists, seek God hesitantly while, at
     the same time, experiencing an overwhelming sadness at not being able
     to reach God. One can discern in this searching, how-ever, a kind of
     pre-prayer.
  
     Indeed, the silhouette of the Eternal is, as it were, stamped by a red hot
     iron at the very root of our existence. "Though this outer human nature of
     ours may be falling into decay, at the same time our inner human nature
     is renewed day by day" (2 Cor 4:16), and a secret awakening awaits us.
     What kind of shock will awaken these souls? Unexpected happiness or
     misfortune? Or the word of God fervently uttered by the lips of a saint? Or
     perhaps exercises suitable for well-known ascetics but beyond the reach
     of ordinary people? The answer is clear: it is none of these things. Our
     souls are waiting for God. Only God can reveal God. Besides, the God
     who lives in the heavens and who governs humanity as absolute master is
     not the God they are seeking. If it were so, Christ's incarnation would be
     in vain. The eternal and infinite God assumed all of human existence out
     of love for each human person. Assuredly, this transcends all
     comprehension, and yet it is this God who, at this very moment,
     continues to pursue and to challenge each one of us interiorly by
     knocking on the door of our minds. To listen to this call is itself pre-
     pray-er. And so, leaving this dull abode, the soul awakens and allows its
     prayer to vibrate in song as it wings its way to heaven: "Listen! I am
     standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I
     will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me" (Rev 3:20).
  
     (1) Jean Paul Sartre, Nausea, trans. Lloyd Alexander (Norfolk, CT: New
     Directions Paperbook, 1964), pp. 127 129. 
 
       (2) Cf. Pascal's Memorial,in Blaise Pascal, Pensées, ed. with an
     introduction and notes by Louis Lafuma, trans. John Warrington (New
     York, NY: Dutton, Everyman's Library, 1960), p. 203. 
 
       (3) Third proof of the existence of God, "From contingent being to the
     necessary Being," Summa Theologiae I, q. 2, art. 3C. 
 
       (4) Confucius, The Analects, trans. D. C. Lau (New York, NY: Penguin
     Books, 1979), p. 63.
  
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