Prayer Jacking & Fowl Quacking

You know, originally, I thought that I'd be addressing a long-denied issue I faced a few months back. Then I read a note by a friend on Facebook that kind of threw me for a loop. It took a minute, but I actually think that the concepts are connected so bear with me as I try to make this dollar out of fifteen cents.

A few months ago, I was prayer jacked. If it's ever happened to you, you are probably nodding knowingly. If not, let me fill you in on the gritty details. There I was, engaged in a (seemingly) normal conversation with a (seemingly) normal person when all of a sudden, I was blindsided by a random and very passionate prayer. There was cadence to rival Jesse Jackson. There was the quoting of biblical scripture. Then it happened.

The prayer jacker told God -- the big guy himself -- that I agreed with what was being said and was asking for this as well.

Okay, I don't know about you, but I think appealing to God is pretty serious business. You don't go doing this willy nilly let me tell you.

Further, I don't even know half of what was said, let alone desire to be enlisted in the appeal. I can tell you this, anything that random and frantic can't be rational and I would like to be aware and sincere when I am offered up, Isaac-style, in a prayer thank you very much.

This kind of spiritual disrespect felt so icky and, truth be told, way too familiar.

It reminded me of all the creepy, uncomfortable memories that I have accumulated when it comes to organized religion. The weird, totally uncool events that smack of human ugliness and self-service and don't even scratch the surface of what I believe to be divine influence in our lives.

These events are all collectively the reason that I carry a tiny little 2 ton chip on my shoulder when it comes to anyone telling me what is moral or religious or right. And in that instance, it all came flooding back to me.

How dare anyone be bold enough to speak for me to God. I have to tell you, of all the insane, inherently offensive acts a person could bestow within the religious realm -- and I was raised Missionary Baptist in the South -- I really felt like this was just about all I was capable of standing for.

I'll be honest here, I wanted to ask what the h - e - double hockey sticks they thought they were doing. But I'm from the South, and I did the southern thing. I stayed quiet, got mad, got madder, got a headache, had a lemonade and then got the hell over it.

It's okay, I'm fine now. But for a while there I was suffering all the stages of mock victimization. There was the shock. The outrage. The why me-isms.

That leads me to the ideas my friend shared in her note on Facebook. She was waxing poetic (very Thoreau-esque although she swears not) about what she saw in nature. A goose or duck or some sort of fowl was alone in the air and a group of others heard the song of the first and moved toward it.

It seemed so odd, that the single song could spark the movement of the masses, but it did. That image stayed with me and is with me still as I ponder the whole religion thing, which is, by the way, the same as the whole woman thing, the whole black thing, the whole mother thing, etc.

Am I who I am because I choose to sing the song that is mine, or because I follow the song that is someone else's? Who am I, truly? The bird who sings or am I in the group that hears the song? Is there just as much strength, just as much authenticity, in both identities?

I think there is. I think that there is a time to sing and a time to hear and follow the song of others. It is my choice that makes me authentic. It is my voice that honors the divine.

I think this is why impositions and presumptions piss me off so thoroughly; because they rob me of my authenticity, and of all that I value and call divine within. I don't want someone else's version of what is to be placed upon me like a yoke. With all due respect, screw that.

So I say, to the prayer jackers of the world -- who I suppose are also identity jackers, value jackers, humanity jackers -- that it is not their place to lasso anyone else into their idea of what is right. Instead, try singing a song that is yours and waiting to see if I follow.

Of course, I wouldn't advise holding your breath.