1/9/25
As an atheist, the phrase “praying for you” carries with it no real meaning. Sure, at first, it sounds endearing, and I am sure it is impactful for the one sending their prayers, but, for me, it does nothing. “Wow, thank you so much for speaking to thin air about my issues!” No, but really, how does praying help? I feel the same way about saying “bless you” when someone sneezes; I have long stripped it from my vocabulary. However, I have not yet found an alternative for sending my prayers to someone. It is quite a natural response to disaster, I have recently learned.
About a month ago, a Palestinian artist reached out to me via Instagram. I have been following his work for a little while now and often share it to my Instagram stories. I genuinely love his work, and it is so much more impactful coming from someone living amidst a genocide—from my days working for a news publication, I have learned the Associated Press-approved term is “Israel-Hamas war” but I don’t fucking care and this is not a major news publication. The message from Osama Hussen (user @os.hussen), along with a link to his Gofundme, sent to me read: “I am Osama, the ambitious artist who has always seen his parents proud of him, his art, and his determined goals despite limited resources. My small studio, filled with paintings and beauty, was completely destroyed during the war. All I desire now is to survive with my family. This time, I genuinely seek help only to save our lives.” Naturally, I had an intense reaction. I have always kept his likely suffering in mind when absorbing his work, but to have Osama reach out personally to me was shocking; it profoundly shocked me. Here, this internet entity on my phone was talking directly to me about his horrific suffering. Immediately, I humanized him on a very real level. I donated to his GoFundMe, shared his information on my social media, and took some time to ponder my response to him. After many drafts, I responded, “all the love brother. i have sent $60 and will send prayers for you and your family.” I wanted to keep the message simple and easily translatable, as his phone was probably in Arabic and my message would need to be converted from English.
Anyway, I said the phrase which I claim has no meaning. I mean, I did not know what else to say. Was I to tell Osama, “I hope that Israel stops bombing your country soon,” or “I’m really sorry you’re going through that, I hope it gets better?” No, of course not, so I sent him my prayers. An atheist sending you their prayers is like a blind person telling you they love your outfit. I still feel terrible about my empty promise. Sometimes, I wonder if I should actually start praying for him, but that would cross a boundary in my religious recovery. It would also be meaningless. I guess I could say I sign a ton of petitions, donate frequently, and protest for the Palestinian cause, but, while true, it would do him no good. So, I resulted to a banal lie. I have since weighed the event in my personal moral compass (which Christians seem to think atheists lack) and found that my lie did more good than bad.
I am still uncomfortable with the idea of “sharing my prayers” with others and want to avoid repeating it in the future, but I have yet to find a satisfying replacement. The best I can think of is “I hope you get/feel/become better,” but it lacks true empathy, and is hope actually different from prayers? Maybe I will just permanently remove the phrase from my vocabulary with no replacement.
I am reminded of my encounter with Osama a month later because of the recent fires in the Los Angeles area. They “already rank as some of the most destructive in state history,” The New York Times reads. I’ve seen people post online about praying for those going through this tragedy, which leaves me puzzled. I would not know what to say to a victim of the fires. “I am so sorry for your loss and I hope you can begin to rebuild easily and quickly” is the best I can think of. I am coming to terms with the fact that sometimes prayer is truly the strongest thing to send someone in times of desperation, which I say not as a testament of faith. Do not be confused; I am nowhere near converting from atheism, but sometimes, the psychological effects of prayer can be great for people. I, however, am not one of those people. If my house and city burned down and people sent me their prayers, I’d feel nothing besides the grief for my house and city.
Though my view on this may seem cynical and depressing, I would seek comfort in other ways, like family and friends and writing and shopping. No, seriously, shopping is a very real addiction of mine that I have been working on. The dopamine I feel after buying clothes or bags is comparable to a crack high—I assume, as a crack-sober person. To you, reading this, I ask for prayers for my recovery.
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