‘I don’t believe in an interventionist God,” sings Nick Cave in the opening line of his 1997 song, Into My Arms. But Jim Sharma, a football fan who is a devotee of Wolverhampton Wanderers FC, very much does – and who can blame him?
For the detached, the uninformed and nonsports fans, the issue here is that Wolves had a terrible start to the season and, until the other day, looked set to beat Derby County’s unenviable record as the worst-performing team in Premier League history. Then they played my team, West Ham, and had their first taste of victory since April. Wolves 3 West Ham 0.
How did that happen? I was watching that game – with my Wolves-supporting father-in-law – and I think we were both equally shocked by the result. But maybe Wolves had help. Sharma believes that it happened because the pope himself had promised to pray for him – and his team – when he presented the pontiff with a special Wolves shirt (with “Pope” and the number one on the back) when they met in Turkey a few weeks previously.
It’s arguable. Wolves played another seven games (of which they lost six and drew one) between then and when they finally managed to win one. Why the delay? Surely the pope’s prayers would be answered quicker than that? On Saturday, when relegation threatened and West Ham beat Tottenham with a goal at the very end – the first win in 10 games – it seemed like a miracle to us. Was it via the pope again, or lots of prayers conveyed direct from east London? Neither you might say. But then, God/mysterious ways …
This question of divine intervention – does it exist? When is it appropriate to seek it? Who is listened to, who isn’t quite so much? Who should be? It all deserves some attention.
I am a vicar. I believe in the power of prayer (obviously!), but still I feel it’s problematic to assume that the almighty micromanages human affairs to that extent. Take the weather: when farmers and gardeners are praying for rain, but brides want a nice, fine day for their wedding, what is God supposed to do? Whom should He disappoint?
This divine dilemma was powerfully illustrated in the surprisingly theologically sophisticated 2003 comedy Bruce Almighty. Jim Carrey’s Bruce – who has temporarily been given all of God’s powers while the “Big Man” (Morgan Freeman) is on holiday – is overwhelmed by the sheer number of requests. So he simply answers “yes” to all of them. The result is chaos: hurricanes and rioting in the streets – because while everyone won the lottery that week, that also meant they received only $1 each.
But the implications of this “slot-machine” view of divine intervention can be even more troubling than that. I always wince when I hear a fellow believer testifying that they prayed for a parking space and “the Lord provided one”. Really? I know I’m only a humble employee, not the boss – but does the boss really adjudicate parking spaces? Isn’t His time better spent addressing child poverty or the conflict in the Middle East?
And, of course, the belief that “God is on our side” has been the cause of many of the problems in the world throughout history. Not all of them, as some atheists like to claim, but enough to be deeply embarrassing for religious people such as me.
Fortunately, most of us have moved on from that tribalistic understanding of God. As the novelist Anne Lamott once said: “You can safely assume that you have created God in your own image when it turns out that He hates all the same people you do.”
God – if She exists – must be the God of all people, not just my people.
It’s complicated. Several years ago, looking for my first senior post as a priest, I found myself shortlisted for a parish that seemed just right for me. I prayed earnestly that I would get the job. I also asked God to bless the other candidates with something equally perfect for them – to show Him that I wasn’t completely selfish. However, on reflection, I realised that there was a further flaw in my thinking: again, what was I asking God to do? If the decision-makers preferred one of my rivals – which is, in fact, what happened – did I want Him to supernaturally change their hearts and minds and pick me instead? Wouldn’t that be tantamount to mind control? Hardly compatible with either free will or a truly loving God.
As it happens, if I had got that job, I wouldn’t have ended up in Wye, where I’ve now been for 16 happy years. So, it seems that my deeper prayer – that God would provide the right post at the right time – was answered.
Does it really work like that? Would any deity be more concerned at any one time with the theological employment status of one West Ham fan in Kent than the health and welfare of millions of other people around the world? I can’t answer that, other than to quote Rowan Williams, the former archbishop of Canterbury (who, coincidentally, has helped Cave to latterly feel more sympathetic to the idea of an interventionist God), who said that while it might be “intellectually frustrating” to suggest that prayer can “tilt the outcome of a situation in a particular way”, that is, nonetheless, the only way “to do justice to the somewhat chaotic Christian experience of intercession and unexpected outcomes (miracles, if you must)”.
So one can believe on the basis that nothing else makes much sense. That helps me. But I still won’t be praying that West Ham will rally and somehow avoid relegation this season – for all the ethical, moral and theological reasons that I’ve mentioned above – and because I simply haven’t got that much faith.
Ravi Holy is the vicar of Wye in Kent and a standup comedian
