The Power of Prayer

Those of you who have followed my blogs over a number of years will have no doubt that I believe in prayer; by which I mean, that prayer is efficacious and effective and, in short, works! Quite apart from anything else, my time in hospital with my life-threatening illness and the power of prayer then, some of my earlier blogs have depicted. But it is not only when we pray that things happen; other people pray and the Earth moves in some way.

A seemingly trivial yet startling event occurred to me last Monday, my wife’s birthday, when I took her to London for the day. We visited the Royal Academy – for a wonderful exhibition of contemporary art – and then moved on to The Royal Portrait Gallery and spent a long time in the Tudor and Jacobean section: wow! How good was that? My wife loved it and so did I. Finally, we ended up at the Azzurro Restaurant just under the arches beside Waterloo Station. There we met two old friends and celebrated, and all this was massively convenient as Waterloo, so close by, was where we’d take the evening train back home.

So, after a deeply satisfying day – being together, sharing great art and meeting friends we hadn’t seen in a while – we said goodbye to our friends and wandered across to the station as we’ve done dozens of times before. And as before the same old same old greets you: the taxis zooming across  your path, the too many people under your feet, the free newspaper stands distributing the Evening Standard blocking your passage, and the beggars by the steps as you start the ascent into the station. What was new?

There she was: the beggar, seated in a quasi-lotus posture, her hands in a prayerful position pointing upwards just in front of her nose, and her eyes closed – closed in supplication as if to the God and not to the passerby and their wallets. In front of her was the open purse inviting contributions to her vigil. She was an Asian – probably of Indian origin – and seemed to be a Hindu. How different all this seemed to the usual begging scenario.

I’ll be frank: I don’t usually contribute to this kind of begging and find it incredible when I see beggars with dogs, ciggies, alcohol, mobiles and other assorted bits and pieces whilst apparently claiming abject poverty. Perhaps a better me might be prepared to give benefit of the doubt, but the me-that-is thinks that contributing simply fuels the behaviour, so it is better to contribute to charities where structured support is given to people with difficulties.

Naturally, then, with that view I simply walked past with my wife. She, I think, hadn’t even seen the woman: it was dark now, she was small and to one side, and was making no noise or moving gesture. How could my wife see her? But we were half way up the stairs towards the station and I stopped. I said to my wife,

"I have to go back".

"Why?" she said, perplexed. I looked at her.

"I believe in prayer," I said. Then exasperated – with myself – "I can’t ignore this woman: she’s praying".

"What woman?" my wife said. I turned and strode back. I put some money in her open purse. She didn’t open her eyes, but she heard it and a gentle smile crossed her face.

I forgot one thing: to say, ‘Pray for me’, but then I knew she knew that anyway.

Self-fulfilling prophecy? Placebo effect? Yes, maybe – but also a connection with the source underlying all these things – and the Will that makes all things work together for good.