Daily Times

It is easy to feel dismayed, confused and anxious over what we are witnessing in the political sphere of our country at the moment. Not only is there a real sense of political vacuum but some have made a charge of moral vacuum as Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif is recovering from his cardiac ailment in London, and many politicians seem busy jostling for their own positions in this rapidly unsettling environment. As the rhetoric of seismic shifts continues, politicians and media have been given plenty to chew over the health issue of the prime minister, and the recent incidents of killing and kidnapping in Karachi.

But for those who are worried for their future, this new world is creating something akin to an existential angst around cultural identity and belonging. Yet rather than feel disenfranchised from the democratic process it seems to me that this is precisely the time to be more politically engaged. One person I spoke to recently dismissed Pakistan politics as a rich man’s game in which he felt he had no stake and no voice. Except that we all do have a voice. And despite the fragmentation of certain structures, this isn’t the bad time to pray, and not to lose hope.

It is said that in times of great uncertainty people pray more, so we can then safely assume the lines are probably jammed right now. And with recent blessings from the month of Ramadan, praying together is good for us whether we believe prayer ‘works’ or not; maybe, we should all be looking for somewhere to pray and someone to pray with.

30 years ago a friend of mine started a prayer group that met every Friday in his garden shed. Over the years, the sheds and heads have changed, but the group still meets. In 30 years, one ends up praying through a lot of wars, government collapses, stock market crashes and Pakistan cricket team fiascos. Were all our prayers for peace and stability answered? Clearly not. Did we carry on praying? Yes. 30 years have also seen a lot of prayers for help and healing sent out from sheds, front rooms and allotments; was every single request met? Not really. There was a man we prayed for who came out of a coma, but there was also the mother of two who didn’t survive cancer. Did we give up praying after that? Of course not.

In its widest sense prayer is a universal human activity, as elemental as breathing. For some it springs from a yearning far deeper than simply needing to get stuff we want. We should know unless we are seriously insane that we can never completely control our personal lives or events in the world. So we bridge the gap between what we can do and what is done to us by wishing, longing, despairing and hoping. All of these can be forms of prayer. We might pray because we are grateful, or we might pray because we are desperate but we still pray. As Abraham Lincoln said, “I’m driven to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I have nowhere else to go.” At its most basic, we utter prayers in the hope that there is something good underpinning all of life, something at the core of existence that can bring stability to our wobbly lives in this volatile world.

These prayers do not have to be long or eloquent, and maybe do not even require great faith. Our preferred prayers are usually “O God, help.” And “Allah, please do something.” Apparently, the shorter our prayers the better they are. However, perhaps what gets valued more is to be thankful, be direct, and be able to word our requests in a simple manner. But do it all with a confidence and hope that prayers, whether offered from sheds or cars, mosques or beds, do not go out and come back void but are heard by Allah who is omnipresent, and always listening in times of trouble and triumph.

When we are sick or in trouble it is probably when we pray. But do we have the faith and the understanding to leave a matter completely in God’s hands, to absolutely know that he would relieve us from sickness and trials of every kind? Very few people do. When we seem to lack the wisdom or the power to solve our problems, we often become frustrated and unhappy. We may completely forget and ignore the fact that we have the right to call on the Supreme Creator of heaven and earth for help with all our problems. The greatest wisdom and power in the entire universe would be with every one of us if we will only
do our part.

Yet that is the exact attitude displayed by most Muslims today. Do they completely rely on God to heal them when they are sick, to rescue them from disaster, or to bless them in material as well as spiritual matters? Of course not. They do not have the same faith or hope. Unlike few, they actually expect pirs (spiritual guide) and fakirs (Sufi ascetic) to intervene and heal the sick, cast out demons, and even to quiet a storm in the sea. They, for sure, are missing intimate contact with God.

We utter prayers in the fear that there is something that may go wrong. For me prayer is about keeping hope alive. Keeping hope alive in the midst of so much uncertainty is a civic but also a religious duty. I see this in the way I think of prayers. One is not supposed to think of God on the basis of fear and awe alone but rather hope. This isn’t because hope wipes out fear but it can lead us to a calmer, more generous place inside ourselves, and in our relationships with others.

The writer is a professor of psychiatry and consultant forensic psychiatrist in the UK. He can be contacted at fawad_shifa@yahoo.com