Mark Twain's War Prayer

I think it is appropriate, on this Sunday before Memorial Day, when—in churches all across the United States—living and fallen soldiers are venerated for their actions in "fighting for our freedom," that I republish this often overlooked short story by America's favorite author.

The War Prayer

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.

-Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910)

Incidentally, this pervasive militaristic (and, quite frankly—heretical) patriotism is why I generally avoid church on Memorial Day, 4th of July, and Veteran's Day.

Velingrad

First, here are some time exposures (all 25 seconds) from New Year’s Eve. The first one—made at 22:00—is a calm view toward Mt. Vitosha (which was only barely visible by the naked eye.) After midnight, fireworks broke out all over the city; people were shooting them rooftops, balconies, and the street—it was like the fourth of July! ;-) In the third picture, you can see the burst of light coming from the official New Years/EU Accession party downtown—which we just watched on TV.

Spa

For the New Year’s holiday (of January 1st and 2nd) we went to spa resort town of Velingrad. We originally made reservations at an old restored hotel (check out the iron work over the door in the picture below!) but we decided on a nicer, newer, and cheaper hotel after tearing all over the city looking for the best value. As in many places in Bulgaria, these spas are fed by naturally hot, slightly minerally water.


The pool was a balmy 31C (88F.) We also hit the Roman (steam) bath, sauna, and had massages. Mirena asked where people go relax in the US; I honestly couldn’t think of an equivalent. I am sure we do have spa resorts somewhere, but I think most people “just go the beach.”

TP

On the way back to Sofia, we came through Belovo, home of Belana Paper Mill—Bulgaria's largest producer of TP and paper towels. Along the road opposite the factory, the street was dotted with vendors selling all the various brands produced there. We stopped and Mirena bought a restaurant-sized roll of paper towels for 3 leva, but she said their prices were actually not that competitive; I suppose they lure Sofians into thinking they can get a good deal on their way home.

Below is one last time exposure I took at twilight as we were heading back to the expressway (notice the streaks of light from cars on the extreme right.)

Oh, and BTW, it is snowing right now! ;-)

Happy New Year!

“Christmas” shopping

As a formerly communist country, New Years is still a bigger holiday in Bulgaria than Christmas day—nearly everyone is guaranteed a 4-day holiday: December 30, 31, January 1, and 2. Since presents are exchanged on this holiday, the shops and malls were packed Friday and Saturday, so I got to experience two last-minute Christmas shopping rushes this month!

Movies

Yesterday, I watched two movies. With the exception of a few French and Russian flicks, cinemas in Bulgaria show the same Hollywood blockbuster as nearly everywhere in the world, and—many times—premiering on the same weekend as in the US, since all they have to do is add subtitles. The cinemas in Sofia are all fairly new, with stadium seating like we have back home, but the ticket prices are significantly cheaper: 4 to 6 leva ($2.70-$4.04.)

First, I watch the new (re-make) James Bond film, Casino Royal. I found it to be a clumsy effort, and—as expected with any new actor playing Bond—I didn’t like Daniel Craig in this role; he seems too rough-edged for this role—Bond is supposed to be effortlessly suave. The parkour stunts were cool, but many of the traditional elements were missing, most notably the array of cool gadgets and the nude, female silhouettes in the opening title sequence. Like I’ve always said, the Bond franchise is just not the same since the end of the cold war, a sentiment seconded by Judy Dench’s “M” character in this film–which of course was poignant for me, watching this behind to old iron curtain.

Later that evening, Mirena and I went to see Robert Altman’s final film, A Prairie Home Companion. The star-studded cast (Meryl Streep, Lindsay Lohan, Kevin Kline, Woody Harrelson, and Tommy Lee Jones) brought in at least a half a dozen Bulgarians who were so bored/disappointed, they left before the end—even Mirena fell asleep. This is to be expected, since it was a sentimental film made for PHC fans (like me.) I wonder who thought it would be a good idea to subtitle and distribute it here.

Back in BG

Well, who’d have thought that I would be back in Bulgaria after only a month back home, but Mirena insisted and since I had nothing better to do—no job yet, and no new year’s eve plans—I had to come over for two weeks. Plus, Bulgaria will join the EU on January 1, so that should make for a big party!

I left for the airport on Christmas day, just as my mother was preparing her big dinner for the whole family; too bad I missed that, but we were all together on Christmas Eve for the magnificent banquet that Debora, my sister-in-law has made a tradition lately.

I had an 11-hour layover in Brussels, so despite being dead-tired from the overnight flight, I had to get out and explore the city. The weather was less than ideal (cold and cloudy,) but I was impressed—Brussels is a magnificent city. BTW, I have an overnight layover on the way back, so I’ll get to see more of it on January 9/10th.

That’s all for now…

Back home

Sorry for not posting anything lately. I’m not quite sure what to write about anymore, and I’m afraid I’ve already lost most of my audience. Never the less, I do intend to keep blogging indefinitely regardless of where I am, so do come back every once in while.

So, for some highlights from the past 3 weeks: After arriving back home from being abroad for 16 months, my homecoming was overshadowed by an announcement from my brother and sister-in-law—they are going to have a baby! Obviously, we are all very happy for them (especially my parents.) But, hey, Joel just returned—you stole my thunder! ;-) Not to be outdone, my other brother and sister-in-law, made an announcement 2 weeks later…that’s right, they are going to have a baby too (in fact they are even farther alone!) So, yes, it is kinda hard being the only single person left in my family, but I’m used to it.

On the day before Thanksgiving, I met with some current IMBA students that I had met in Vienna back in March (they are doing the exact same program I did 2 years ago.) We met at the Carolina Coliseum to see our local, minor-league hockey team get beat by a team from Florida. This was first time I’ve ever been to a hockey game; thankfully Daniel (IMBA 2007) was able to explain the finer points of the game to me and his classmate, Antonio (who is from Puerto Rico, and had also never been to a hockey game.) What an incongruous sight, to see two teams from the Deep South playing a game that would, under natural circumstances, be impossible here.

Thanksgiving was great; I fully enjoyed the traditional feast and seeing family that I had not seen for over a year. Our last guest was my cousin from Germany, who is an au-pair here in South Carolina, unfortunately no one told her that Thanksgiving dinner takes place in the early afternoon; she arrived at 19:00—oh well, I know that feeling (lack of knowledge of local customs.)

The next day, I braved the crowds on the biggest shopping day of the year to browse the newest electronics at Best Buy and Circuit City. That evening I met two of my former classmates that still live in Columbia, one from Bulgaria and one from Romania. It was good to exchange notes on living/visiting each other’s countries.

The next week, I finally put my bike together and went out for a ride again. The weather was unseasonably warm—24C (75F.) Now I remembered what I liked about South Carolina! However, I have really gotten out of shape, because after my usual 53km (33 mi.) loop, I was exhausted. I promised myself to get back into shape, but the weather has turned colder, and I’ve only been out on one other occasion.

Hydro project

Ever since we moved down from Ohio and my father purchased the house where I grew up for most of my life, he has wanted to harness the water that flows out of the small lake that his property is situated on. However, through the years, this idea had been forgotten until my youngest brother expressed interest in it 2 years ago. Ever since then, they have been gung-ho about it, plowing right into the excavation and building of the power plant (pictured) without researching whether it is even economically and practically feasible. They have had no electrical, mechanical, or any other kind of engineering assistance or even any kind of drawings other than the proverbial “sketch on the back of an envelope.” Despite this lack of professionalism, it looks like they will soon have a turbine spinning in the power plant very soon. A week ago Saturday, we all piled into my brother’s pickup truck and drove to the outskirts of Atlanta to pick up the rebuilt turbine and associated hardware that they had ordered from an equally “seat of the pants” micro-hydro expert. This was loaded into the pickup and a trailer (pictured), and with a minimum of verbal instruction on how to put it all together, we headed back home. My other brother and I—who have been warning them against this foolhardy scheme—are impressed that they have gotten this far, but we’re still doubtful that they will ever produce any substantial revenue from selling power back to the local electrical co-op. We see it as a source of amusement, watching them from the sidelines as they muddle through. Despite our collective electrical and mechanical expertise, we have vowed not to help them in this foolish endeavor. Never the less, we do hope they are successful, and now that looks increasingly likely.

Reverse culture shock

For the last 3 calendar years, I have spent a total of 26 months abroad. After each homecoming, I wait for the phenomena called “reverse culture shock.” However, even after not touching American soil for 16 months (except for the US embassy), I still have not experienced it. In fact I am amazed at how natural it feels to be back home; it’s almost as if I haven’t been gone. Granted I am restless, and I am looking forward to the next adventure.

The one characteristic that is unmistakably evident is that everything in America is big! Food and beverage portions are big, hence Americans are big, and therefore they drive big SUV’s (it seems no one drives a regular car anymore.) I am alarmed at how much weight I’ve gained in the past 3 weeks; I now consciously watch out for overly processed, high fat food (that, granted, tastes so good!)

Seriously, what I have found downright sickening—especially around the holidays— is this run-away consumer culture. Why do we feel compelled to listen to marketers and buy junk for ourselves and our family and friends that we don't need? Then we rent storage space, buy/build sheds, and finally, get a bigger home just to store all this junk. Granted, Americans aren't alone in this compulsion; but since Americans and (mostly young) Europeans are used to financing their lifestyle with credit cards, it is more evident here. I expect this disease to spread to other parts of the world with the expansion of consumer credit. I am thankful that my parents drilled it into us that “if you don't have the money, you don't need it!”