I Do Not View Prayer as a Weapon
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According to various credible online sources, if you add up the total estimated number of lives lost during all the world’s major military conflicts from World War I through the war in Afghanistan, that number totals just under 78 million. As of the writing of this article, the estimated total number of lives lost in the war on Ukraine is 500,000, including military personnel and civilians. Thus far in 2023, an estimated 25,000 citizens in the United States have died by handgun violence. There were 51 school shootings across our country in 2022 and 30 so far in 2023. An estimated 12 million people per year in the U.S. are victims of partner violence, commonly also referred to as domestic violence. That’s 1 every 20 minutes. Child protective services throughout our country substantiates or finds evidence of a claim of child sexual abuse every 9 minutes. And the number of deaths thus far in 2023 in the United States by natural disaster in all its forms is 466.
To be sure, violence is everywhere. It raises its ugly head all around the globe. This reality includes, not only those forms mentioned in the previous paragraph, but also online harassment, bullying, racism, sexism, and the verbal violence that takes place in conversations pretty much everywhere, even in our homes. Lines are drawn over politics, gender identity issues, immigration, and religion, including within our Catholic faith. I could go on, but you probably get the point. There is enough violence already and enough mention of war, weapons, and weaponry. I recall the statement made by Bradley Whitford in his role as Josh Lyman in the NBC series, The West Wing, to President Bartlet, played by Martin Sheen, “Mr. President, we talk about enemies more than we use to.” So, whenever I hear someone refer to prayer as a weapon, yes, it does disturb me.
What has led to me writing this article? I’ll bottom-line it for you. There is an expression that is being used and referenced more and more lately in conversations about faith, morals, and so on. It’s the term, “weaponizing.” Let me explain. It has been said in some circles that some Catholics “weaponize the eucharist.” The same term has been applied to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, or Confession. What does it mean to “weaponize” these? The best way to explain is to offer a couple of real examples. A 15-year-old young man told me that his teacher once said in class that, “If you look at pretty girl, you should refuse yourself communion until you’ve gone to confession.” Another mom told me that her priest told them, “The only appropriate way to receive communion is on the tongue.” And, in some places, some have taken the liberty of adapting, adjusting, and, in some cases, rewriting certain traditional Catholic prayers in order to encourage their use as weapons against all the evil in the world. Do I understand how and why this might happen sometimes? Sure. It’s just not my style, and, in fact, I don’t feel it to be a healthy approach to prayer either. The first time I ever recall encountering this approach directly was during a talk given by a guest speaker at a Catholic men’s gathering. He posed the following question to a packed house. “In our Catholic faith, we have the most powerful weapon on earth to fight the forces of evil.” He paused. “Do you know what that is?” He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright yellow, plastic rosary he had purchased in an airport gift shop on his way to Louisiana and said, “This is it right here!” If I had not been seated at a table in the exact center of the banquet hall, I would have immediately got up and walked out. Seriously? A traditional form of prayer that has brought so much peace and comfort to so many throughout history, now referred to as a weapon? No, not for me. Sorry.
I think there is enough talk of war. I get the sad fact that, on one hand, weapons are unfortunately used at times for destruction, and, at the same time, often necessarily used for protection. What makes me uncomfortable, however, is connecting the reality of warfare to God, to Mary, or any of the Saints, for that matter. I think, in the end, it all comes down to your personal motif, if you will, your personal image that you use to describe life. Some describe the life of a Christian as a battle. Some focus on life as a struggle. Me? I image it as a journey. We are on a journey from The One who created us, back to that same Eternal Goodness. Along the way, we will find ourselves at times in valleys, and at other moments on the mountain-top. Indeed, through it all, God is our constant companion and source of all compassion. Should, not only our behavior and words, but our styles and traditions also model this? How do you think it makes our children feel, for example, if they hear us referring constantly to the devil, to evil, and spiritual warfare? It will frighten them, that’s what it will do. It will also scare young people away or run them away from the Church. Our words, especially when we pray, must, they absolutely must convey compassion and hope, not fear and dread.
When it comes to prayer, Padre Pio, born in 1887, wrote, “Prayer is the best weapon we have; it is the key to God's heart. You must speak to Jesus not only with your lips, but with your heart. In fact on certain occasions you should only speak to Him with your heart.” (Padre Pio. In My Own Words.) Pope Francis once said, “Prayer is nothing more than lifting our hearts or minds to God. God, the Eternal Present, is at all times beckoning us towards deeper union with him.”
As a pastor, I am responsible for enabling a healthy environment for prayer here in our parish and school. When someone attends Mass here, for example, whether during the week or on the weekend, my hope is that they will leave here feeling both loved and challenged, not beaten down, scolded, or unworthy. And, while I am not a parent, it would seem to me that, whenever we gather for prayer in our homes, faith-sharing groups, or anywhere, for that matter, I believe that should be our goal in those settings as well.
War and violence have been and will always be constant realities. So have compassion, welcome, and consolation. These are what Jesus preached. This is what he lived and died for. This is who he was.
And lest we forget, he already fought and won the battle.