Does Prayer Really Matter?
 

            You keep goin’ your way,
             I’ll keep goin’ my way.
                River, stay ‘way from my door.
             I just got a cabin,
             You don’t need my cabin.
                 River, stay ‘way from my door.
             Don’t come up any higher,
                  I’m so all alone.
              Leave my bed and my fire,
                  That’s all I own.
              I ain’t breakin’ your heart.
              Don’t start breakin’ my heart.
                  River, stay ‘way from my door.                         —by Mort Dixon

This is the month of the Holy Rosary. In 1571, 60,000 men and more than 200 ships: galleys, galleons and galleasses, commanded by Don Juan of Austria, fought the Turks at Lepanto, as a holy league assembled by Pope Pius V to halt the enemy advance into the Mediterranean Sea. Meanwhile, the faithful in Rome were praying the Rosary that the Christian forces might triumph. Among the warriors were Jesuits, Dominicans, Franciscans and Capuchins, under a banner sent by the Pope; the forces of Islam were under pennants with texts from the Koran. The engagement was the largest ever in Christendom. And the last of its kind—ships under oars.

The tactic was to use the men at the oars to manoeuver the ship and bring it abreast of the enemy vessel, board it and fight hand-to-hand with swords. They had cannons and muskets and used them, but man-on-man was the style of choice.

In the battle, 30,000 Turks perished, 7,500 Christians, and 12,000 Christian slaves were set free—chained rowers for the enemy.

The attribution of victory went to the Virgin Mary and it was made a feast day, October 7, Our Lady of Victory, changed by the next pope to Our Lady of the Holy Rosary. (Local lore has it that the statue in the front wall of our monastery depicts Our Lady of Victory.)

Not long after, 17 years actually, the Spanish, weary of English pirates plundering their coastal cities, assembled a fleet, the Spanish Armada, with the intention of taking over England and restoring the Faith there, leaving Spanish trading in peace.

They came with 130 ships and a force of nearly 30,000, including hundreds of religious, monks, and priests to aid the cause. In addition, 30,000 troops in the Spanish Netherlands were to follow through in the conquest.

What the Spanish had not been aware of, or certainly did not reckon with, was a new mode of conflict the English developed. Their ships were not built so high, with forecastle and poop deck, and thus were less vulnerable to guns, were faster and more easy to manage. In the conflict, the English never let the Spanish get near them, instead used their cannons—more powerful, with greater range—and so pummeled the Spanish. In 8 days of action, with every Spanish vessel crippled and with thousands of casualties, they had had enough and fled by way of the North Sea and past Scotland and Ireland, only to meet stormy seas and a hostile people, Catholics notwithstanding. Only 54 ships made it home, taking with them some 1000 wounded or sick. It was the end of Spain’s control of the seas and the beginning of England’s. If Lepanto was a Catholic triumph, the Armada was a Catholic tragedy.

One assumes, of course, that so valid a Catholic cause that the Spanish were set upon would be supported by prayer. Indeed, men of God were aboard.

Hence the question: What are we to make of prayer, prayer answered and prayer unanswered—the prayer of supplication. Does prayer really matter in the doings of men and nations?

On D-Day, when delay was no longer possible, the stormy seas calmed down and General Eisenhower said: “God is with us.”

Was He?  Is it simplistic, even superstitious, to think that the Rosary saved Lepanto? Where were the angels on 9/11? And where in the Gulf tragedy? Surely these questions rose in you heart?  I wonder how you answered them...

The same way I did, no doubt.

We know that all prayer is heard. No question. God is not deaf. How God answers prayer is a mystery of His Will, His Providence. The God of Islam did not answer them, help their cause at Lepanto. The God of Protestant England supported their cause. Or better, both Protestants and Catholics fought off the Spanish invader.

The mysterious Providence of God, as we call It, is providential, after all. There is not one of you who at one time or other has not had to cope with this in one situation or another. Life is not nice. Things happen.  And we don’t know why.

On the one side we hold firm our faith in a benign God. And on the other we refuse to succumb to bitterness, anger, resentment, loss of faith. Both are possible in the grace of God.

Christ is here our model and example. Not all His prayers were answered. “Let this cup pass...”  It didn’t pass. He prayed for the twelve. His prayers were not wholly answered.

You too, I presume.

We enter into another weltanschaung, a way of looking at things, as Christians.

We may say, “God was with us.” “All went well. It was a good trip.” “We won.” And yet realize in our heart that God is with us even when we don’t win, when all does not go well. And this is the fruit of prayer. And why we pray:

That God be with us. Whatever. The better and the deeper we pray,
the better, the deeper our sense of having God on our side.

For God was at Lepanto and with the Armada. At 9/11 and in the Gulf.

Come down to our own scene: Whether we flourish or not, God is with us. Success and failure are no valid norms for reading the mind of God.  Amen.
 

1. This is a talk Fr. Matthew gave to his community of Gethsemani in their Chapter room, Sunday, October 9, 2005, at the request of the Abbot who was absent at the General Chapter of the Order, and thus not available to give his own usual Sunday Chapter talk to the monks.