Invocation

As a Jew, I’ve sat through my share of interminable sermons.  I’ve endured excruciatingly long bar mitzvah services and naming ceremonies.  Having a Catholic husband has also exposed me to long masses and wordy pre-meal prayers.  Now, I’m not really the praying type.  However, I’m very happy to respect the prayer rituals of those around me and bow my head to contemplate what is being said.  After all – I figure, “There’s gotta be something in here I can agree with…I can go along with that…I can secularize this and send my positive energy out into the world even if it’s not necessarily “religious.”  Hoping for peace, health and understanding?  Yeah, man – I can totally get behind that.

Recently, though, I was blown away by an invocation delivered by a person of the cloth.  The list of things for which we (by “we,” I mean “others”) prayed was simply staggering.  It went a little something like this*:

Dear Father in Heaven,

We pray for the following:

Black for the white.
Food for the Hungry.
Music for the tone-deaf.
Peace for the war torn.
Forks for the knives.
Butter for the bread.
Homes for the homeless.
Drums for the band.
Uteri for the Embryos.
Medicine for the hungry.
Food for the sick.
Tablecloths for the tables.
Friends for the lonely.
Confidence for the wusses.
Humility for the dumb-asses.
Tonic for the gin.
Wallpaper for the naked walls.
Tables for the chairs.
Salt for the pepper.
Alcohol for the bored.
Comedy for the Germans.
Lots of Jews for the anti-semites in Paris.
Chargers for the iPads.
Wicks for the candles.
Badges for the lanyards.
Toilet paper for the stalls.
Windows that open for the menopausal.
Tongues for the ice cream.
Laces for the sneakers.
Belts for the pants that are too big. (Who the fuck am I kidding?  I’ll never have pants that are too big…)
Earplugs for the parents of kids who sing “Let it Go.”

and finally, dear Lord,
Brevity for the clergy.

Amen.

*Just kidding.  Sort of.