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It’s early December 1944, the eve of the Battle of the Bulge, and General George Patton, commander of the American Third Army, is staring out of his window, cursing the rain. For three months, the constant deluge has been hampering operations. Tanks have been getting stuck in mud. Morale has been getting low. Everything depends on the weather. Suddenly, Patton has a brainwave. He calls up the Catholic chaplain. “This is General Patton; do you have a prayer for good weather?” he asks. Within an hour the Revered James H O’Neil had written his own prayer and delivered it personally to the General. “Have 250,000 copies printed” barks Patton “and see to it that every man in the Third Army gets one”. The prayer begins thus: “Almighty and most merciful Father, we humbly beseech thee, of thy great goodness, to restrain these immoderate rains with which we have to contend. Grant us fair weather for battle .. that, armed by thy power, we may advance from victory to victory, and crush the oppression and wickedness of our enemies…” In its own way, the front page of yesterday’s Sun had something similar, calling for a prayer campaign with the words “Bring me Sun Shrine” and introducing its own Vicar of Dibley to lead intercessions against the torrents of unwanted water that are making life miserable for so many people. Now far be it from me to disagree with such distinguished theological company, but I don’t think prayer works like this. It’s not about lobbying the almighty, nor is it an alternative way of getting things done in the world by cosying up to the divine. Mother Teresa of Calcutta had it exactly right: “Prayer is not asking” she insisted. “Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts.” The problem with General Patton’s theology – if I can call it that - is that it’s all about him getting what he wants. For him, prayer is an extension of the will, a way of giving his own desire some strange metaphysical boost. But for Mother Teresa, this is the precisely opposite of what should be going on. Indeed, the point of prayer is for the “I” to get out of the way so that another voice can be heard. The art of prayer is not the art of more powerful speech but the art of more attentive listening. Patton’s prayer was issued to the troops between the 12th and 14th of December. A week later, the rain stopped. And on Christmas Eve the General awarded his Chaplain a Bronze Star medal. My problem with all of this is that even if human beings have some peculiar back-channel to influence meteorology, I still wouldn’t call it prayer. For if bad weather does call people to prayer, and it has done so since the very beginnings of human history, it is because the uncontrollable weather is one of the things that tells us that the human “I” is emphatically not at the centre of things. Human beings are not in control. And that is sometimes scary stuff. Prayer is about learning to deal with all of this and not a means of trying to change it.