Theos-Talk Archives (October 2001 Message tt00019)

Hello Pendragon, 

Just wanted to say thanks for offering this bit of Mark Twain's deep & 
powerful insight into the real nature of war. Stripped of right or wrong, the 
act itself will ALWAYS bring forth the scenes described for us, in this 
story. Every physical action must be accompanied and powered by a focused 
INTENT. An intent which is both, conscious and stated, as well as 
un-conscious and un-stated. All the participants will be guilty of all the 
effects, known and unknown, of that action. The Karmic legacy of these 
actions will not lessen over time, until, the real, underlying, lessons are 
learned and an actual transformation in the Human Personality begins. 
Clearly, since we are about to engage again, on this most recent version, of 
the lessons of violence, which nature has been trying to teach us for 
millennia, we obviously have not yet learned anything, from a Karmic point of 
view. By our actions here and now we set into motion a future which is ours 
to inherit and one which CANNOT be escaped. 

Thanks for the piece, it is a treasure of folk wisdom which, Twain could play 
with, like very few others.

Louis





In a message dated 9/30/2001 8:42:05 PM Eastern Daylight Time, 
Pendragon@fix.net writes:

> The War Prayer
> March 1905
> 
> by Mark Twain
> 
> Editor's note: Outraged by American military intervention in the
> Phillipines, Mark Twain wrote this and sent it to Harper's Bazaar. This
> women's magazine rejected it for being too radical, and it wasn't published
> until after Mark Twain's death, when World War I made it even more timely.
> It appeared in Harper's Monthly, November 1916.
> 
> 
> It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in
> arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism;
> the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the
> bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down 
the
> receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness 
of
> flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide
> avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers 
and
> sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion
> as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to
> patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which
> they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears
> running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached
> devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His
> aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every
> listener. It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash
> spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its
> righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their
> personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no 
more
> in that way.
> 
> Sunday morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for the
> front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces
> alight with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance, the gathering
> momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe,
> the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! Then
> home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden
> seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and
> envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send
> forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die 
the
> noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old
> Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ
> burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with
> glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation
> 
> God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and lightning
> thy sword!
> 
> Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for
> passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its
> supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all 
would
> watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them 
in
> their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the
> hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and 
confident,
> invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them
> and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --
> 
> An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the
> main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a
> robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in 
a
> frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale 
even
> to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his
> silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood
> there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence,
> continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words,
> uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord 
our
> God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"
> 
> The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the
> startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he 
surveyed
> the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light;
> then in a deep voice he said:
> 
> "I come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty God!" The
> words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no
> attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will
> grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have
> explained to you its import -- that is to say, its full import. For it is
> like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who
> utters it is aware of -- except he pause and think.
> 
> "God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and 
taken
> thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered, the other not. 
Both
> have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and
> the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech a
> blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon
> a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your
> crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon
> some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.
> 
> "You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am
> commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it -- that part
> which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed
> silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You
> heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is
> sufficient. the whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant
> words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory 
you
> have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory -- must 
follow
> it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also
> the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words.
> Listen!
> 
> "O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth
> to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth
> from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our
> God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help
> us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead;
> help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded,
> writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane
> of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with
> unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to
> wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and
> thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter,
> broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the
> grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their
> hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy
> their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with 
the
> blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who 
is
> the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all
> that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
> 
> (After a pause.) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The
> messenger of the Most High waits!"
> 
> It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there 
was
> no sense in what he said.
> 
> Source: Jim Zwick ed., Mark Twain's Weapons of Satire (Syracue: Syracuse
> University Press, 1992), pp. 156-160.
> 
> 
>