September 22nd, 2008


remember: you are not alone

I have been spending too much time reading (mostly) political blogs, but in the process I stumbled across this:
I have been, and remain, a staunchly anti-elitist individual. I find the idea of belonging to a special group the most dangerous philosophical ground you can stand on. But what is remarkable about this Remnant* is that the people that compose it seem to be drawn completely at random. It is not a philosophy. It is a frequency. You are on it or you are not. And this is not a million-dollar lottery win, either: it is a call to face unpleasant facts and impending hardship. It is a quiet summons to duty. It often makes one uncomfortable, and, most often, this unfocused, vague desire – this need – to do something useful most often makes one feel very much alone.

What’s remarkable about the Remnant -- to me, anyway – is the sheer unpredictability of its composition. Perhaps that homeless drug addict, panhandling under the overpass . . . perhaps he will be the one to run into a burning building while other decent and good people stand idle, waiting for something to happen.

Waiting for someone to happen.

The rest of it is well worth reading--perhaps particularly because it was written before the whole current kerfluffle had really started.

*As in the remnant of Israel that Isaiah was speaking to.


I find I pray differently depending on whether I'm alone or with others, and whether my prayer is silent or spoken aloud. When I'm with others, the prayer almost turns into a performance, as I try to sound devout and well-spoken and thorough. I go into great detail, repeat myself, and generally make the thing last as long as is polite. The words become more important than they probably should be.

Alone, and in the privacy of my head, my prayers tend to be more along the lines of "These things, Lord, these people," as though I were physically holding up something in my hands, and "You know the details better than I." These prayers are short, but more sincere, I'm afraid. I don't forget, halfway through, who I'm addressing. And I don't presume that I know how things ought to end up.

If you have prayer requests, please let me know. I'll add them to my list.