A Prelude:

Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow

Praise God

from whom all blessings flow.

Praise him all creatures

here and below.

Praise him above

ye heavenly host.

Praise Father

Son and Holy Ghost.

 

Thomas Ken, 1709

 

            I heard that prayer so many times, that it became ingrained in my brain along with the Genevan hymn it was sang to, Old 124th. I remember that I am still there listening to Esther, pounding that chorale by the English Renaissance composer,Thomas Tallis on the gigantic organ behind the podium. I stood in the very front pew with my father, as the old men, in their old suits that smelled like mothballs, quietly and reverently marched up the aisle of the church. Their heads bowed, watching their feet as they walked up past the pews, through the communion railing and to the altar. It was a bare altar, being in a Methodist church, a simple red wood cross, surrounded by two flickering candles standing in brass holders, white marble and dingy yellow curtains. Directly below the cross, and in-between the candles sat a large bible in a brass easel open to the first page of Ecclesiasties, or The Preacher: “Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher; all is vanity…”

            I stood, bowing my head, singing that song and thinking in the bottom of my heart the truth of the words. How right it was to thank God for everything that he had given me, and would give me for the rest of my days. But, then another thought came to me, as I opened my eyes, looking around me at the rest of the worshippers and wondering. Did they feel the same way? How did they feel about thanking God for what he had given to us? I wondered also if they wondered what I did, the strange thoughts of a 12 year-old boy, forced to wear a suit and a tie during a wonderfully hot summer’s day, a day perfect to play football or baseball. Did the ushers agree with the well-worn prayer, said like a wife would say I love you to her husband she was cheating on. Did anyone stop a moment to ponder the meaning behind the words Praise God from whom all blessings flow? I know that did, and every time I heard that prayer, or hear that prayer now, I think of that moment. The first moment that I started to question organized religion and its tenets.

            Was there a God? Did he listen to my prayers, as I would kneel praying for him to help me get a chair on the Honour Band? Did Pat Robertson really have some sort of special connection to God? Would he pick up a special red telephone, dial 911 and get a direct line to God? “God, can you heal Mable in Mississippi of her ulcerous cancer? And, can you heal Johnny in California of a hernia ? Also can you allow me to enjoy the Blessings that flow from you big G? OK with you?”

            And God would say: “Sure Pat, keep on doing as you do. And bring more sheep and money into the fold. Go with me!”

            Since I was a Methodist, what was the Method? I never heard a word spoken about it. What made my brand of church better than the Pope’s, or Abraham’s, or Mohammed’s or Buddha’s? What gave us the monopoly on salvation? Was John Wesley, our venerable founder right, or just some crackpot? Was Jesus really the Son of God? What made him better than me, or the guy sitting next to me in class? Were men naturally evil or bad? And, most importantly, did people really go to Hell and not get a second chance if they did wrong in their life?

            I sat down in my pew, Bible in hand, looking up at the preacher saying what he would say in the way he would say it. I would nod and say Amen, and yes! But deep down, I was forming those questions in my mind that now I wonder about. I think the only time that I’ll know the answers to those questions is a long time from now. George Bernard Shaw, the famous or infamous Atheist, Writer, Socialist, Playwright, Bon Vivant and Critic had the best way to put it. Written on his gravestone were the following words: “Gone to see.” That’s my opinion on the whole thing, after God gives me my check-out call and he says “Jacques, it’s time to go. You’ve stayed too long here, and we’ll have to charge you extra for the clean up. Check out time is now!” I’ll go to see myself, along with George, along with Jesus and the rest of us all. Perhaps to meet the force responsible for the flow of blessings, or perhaps to nothingness, or to a return trip to this mad existance that we call human life. Praise God indeed!