Valson Thampu

It is customary with us to pray for peace when and where peace prevails. As congregations, we pray for world peace, without a thought as to what peace means, especially in a world that cares neither for God nor for peace, nor for prayer. Even when the world makes a margin for prayer, it is as an appendix to power. The world, as St. Augustine wrote in the City of God, preaches peace and prepares for war at the same time.
I haven’t prayed more fervently for anything in the last quarter century than for the cessation of war in Ukraine. This war has affected me a great deal more than the other wars and regional conflicts in my lifetime for a particular reason. It is a war eventuating from nuclear non-proliferation. Had Ukraine not dismantled its formidable nuclear stockpile of 1900 warheads in 2004, trusting the assurances given by the US, the UK and Russia under the Budapest Memorandum, it would not have been in the present terrible plight. Ironically, it is the investment that Ukraine made in nuclear non-proliferation then that enables Putin to blackmail that country, and the rest of the word with nuclear holocaust today.
My praying for the people of Ukraine has borne no tangible result so far in the theatre of war. But it has generated an unanticipated outcome, domestic in nature. During this while, two of my granddaughters, the children of my daughters, have been with me. They are aged 7 and 6 respectively. The other day at evening prayer the elder of the two said the opening prayer. ‘Lord Jesus,’ she began. ‘Help the people of Ukraine. They are suffering a lot. Especially in Mariupol. They have no water, no food, no electricity, Jesus. The children are crying, Jesus. The Russians are killing them. They are cruel. Please change their mind…’
At this point my second granddaughter broke into the prayer of her cousin. She added, ‘Jesus, we pray for Russia also. We don’t want Russia to be angry with us. We get oil and gas from Russia. Amen.’
As my readers would readily recognize, my second granddaughter is in sync with the foreign affairs pundits of India. She wants to be neutral, so to speak. But, unlike our strategic think-tanks, she is disingenuous. Her neutrality is born of fear and ulterior considerations.
So, was my intercession for Ukraine misplaced? Should I have prayed, not for the cessation of the bloodbath in that country, but for an uninterrupted flow of oil and gas into India? But what would be my motive for praying for the latter, when I know that the prices I have to pay for both are unrelated to international crude prices? Even when crude oil sold dirt cheap in the international market, the price of petrol and diesel remained high, and climbing, in India, the mystery of which was explained brilliantly and logically by V. Muraleedharan, MoS, Ministry of External Affairs: the specifics of which I refrain from citing out of respect for my readers.
Let us now focus on the specific question. Does prayer work in macro situations? How universal is God’s jurisdiction? Assuming that the divine writ runs globally, how are we to invoke it? Is there a protocol for it? If there is, what could that be?
This question is relevant for the reason that our familiar miracle workers and faith-healers retreat in the face of pandemics and mega calamities. None of them was in business when, for two years, the pandemic raged. Those who mouth the routine ‘prayer for world peace’ are quite unlikely to believe that there is any point in praying for peace in Ukraine, risking Putin’s anger. What do they want us to believe about the scope and reach of prayer?
I seek the indulgence of my readers to cite two instances of some relevance to this issue. An Indian Airlines flight was hijacked to Khandahar airport in December 1999. Days of ordeal followed for the hostages. Mamta Banerjee, who was a member of Prime Minister Vajpayee’s cabinet, decided to organize an all-religions prayer meeting at Raj Ghat for thespeedy end of the crisis. She contacted me to ‘to say a Christian prayer’ on the occasion. I excused myself. Of course, I didn’t tell her that I was unsure about the propriety of dragging God into a situation, in the creation of which God was neither consulted nor remembered. All along I have been of the opinion that it is an insult to the majesty of God’s omniscience and sovereignty to present him with human faits accomplis. Was I insensitive to the plight of the hostages? Not necessarily. Admittedly, I was more sensitive to the sense and sensibility of praying in spirit and in truth.
Now consider the second instance. When the first batch of Raphales, the French fighter planes, reached India, a ceremony was held in the Ambala airbase to bless the state of the art instruments of death and devastation. Priestly representatives of diverse religions, Christianity included, were invited to sanctify what was touted as a military game-changer in the Asian context. I felt queasy watching the televised ceremony in progress. I remembered, and secretly apologized to, Jesus of Nazareth who said, ’Put down the sword’. We are in no position to find out if the multiple prayers offered on the occasion enhanced the death-dealing efficacy of the fighter planes. I had difficulty connecting Jesus to the Frech technology.
So, in their essence, the ethical substance of India’s neutrality in relation to the tragedy of the people of Ukraine and the prayer for peace –or for oil and gas, as my granddaughter understands it- is the same in the end. We retrofit our supplications to a pre-fixed purpose, determined entirely by our convenience. As to the ethical demands and godly ideals at risk, we are largely indifferent. To us, God is a cosmic convenience.
So, do I still pray for Ukraine? Yes; but the drift of my prayer has changed. I no longer pray for the hostilities to end. I leave that to those who have far greater influence with God than I dare to claim. I only pray that God may disinfect my soul from its secret affinity to the perversions of power. I pray for a ray of light –the light of love- to be kindled in my soul. What’s the use in praying for world peace, if I can’t live in peace with my neighbours? And, worse, not even at peace with myself?