Have you seen the movie One Hour Photo with Robin Williams? I haven’t, well, not all of it anyway, but from the short piece that I did see I was struck by a conversation. One of the characters, speaking to a child who is concerned that Sy (Robin Williams) is sad suggests:
“but maybe, if we send him good thoughts that will make him feel better. So why don’t we close our eyes and send Sy some good thoughts?”
When the child agrees, what kind of assurance is he given?
“There, I bet next time we see Sy, he won’t seem so sad.”
I’m not so sure he will.
OK, I realise this is just a movie and we don’t want to draw too much out of it. But what kind of advice is this? Do people give this type of advice to their kids? What if he still seems so sad? I can understand why she says this to the child, but they are still very empty words, because they are rooted in no guarantee, only blind hope, that he will get better.
This reminded me of a comment I heard on the news the other day, by a world leader, responding to a disaster (unfortunately this detail has escaped me!). He said:
“My thoughts and deepest sympathies are with the victims and their families”.
This is a nice sentiment, but it is lacking in power. The difference between:
“My thoughts and deepest sympathies are with you”, and
“My thoughts, deepest sympathies and prayers are with you”
is significant. When God is listening, desires our good and has the power to act, this provides great comfort. I realise not all can say the latter, but for those who can, there is great hope in difficult times. These words become filled not only with sentiment, but with power.
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To a non-Christian; you’ve got to understand that the difference between: “My thoughts and deepest sympathies are with you”; and “My thoughts, deepest sympathies and prayers are with you” is that, in the second case, they’re tacking on “and I’ll think about you briefly later”. It’s a little more then that – because the person praying believes God will help; so it becomes “My thoughts and deepest sympathies are with you; and I’m going to think about you a little later and maybe that will magically fix everything!” – imagine saying that to someone who just lost a leg, or a family member.
It gets worse — “we’re praying for you” is often heard as a threat to the non-religious — as an example, I once ended up in a bit of a fight with a pastor over a website that called him mean names; he had hundreds of people email me, pretty much all of which ended with “we’re praying for you”.
And it goes on – people who have family members constantly trying to get them to go to church, who are under some pressure to sign up and give their life to God; and in a predominantly Christian society, there are quite a few — to these people “I’ll pray for you” is often exactly the wrong thing to say, at exactly the wrong time, because it sounds like “Oh, just so you know, I think you’re going to hell” at a time when they’re at their most vulnerable.
Now I’m not seriously saying you shouldn’t pray for people, if that’s what you want to do, but give a thought to the person you’re talking to. By all means, pray, but understand that offering your prayers doesn’t always some across as genuine concern, as a genuine offer for help, but sometimes as empty words, a way of actively doing nothing, and sometimes worse; twisting the knife, just a little, just enough that your genuine sentiment loses any ability to comfort people in need.
Hi Bob, thanks for the reply and for this perspective. I can see what you’re saying – “we’re praying for you” can sometimes be used as a weapon (if I can put it like that). Perhaps there’s a difference between those who say “we’re praying for you” – and mean it, and those who say it as a way of ending the conversation, or who are in a backhanded way basically saying “I don’t agree with you”. You’ve made me think more about how I tell people I’ll pray for them – thanks.
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