Ron Reads Boring Books
Are you tired? You will be. Because I will read to you a boring book and it will be worse than you doing nothing. This podcast is not intended to entertain you. It is intended to bore you. The length of each podcast will vary so you cannot plan your listening easily. Some reads will be short. Some will be excruciatingly long. There will be no intro or outro music. The only sound is my voice and other random sounds as they happen. I change my voice as I read the dialog. Also, I have a southern accent and do not read well. Thank you for listening.
Ron Reads Boring Books
Holy Fire and Hidden Horror
Ron reads Mark Twain's powerful anti-war short story "The War Prayer," which exposes the hidden, devastating consequences behind prayers for military victory. The story forces us to confront the reality that when we pray for our side's triumph in war, we are inadvertently praying for the destruction and suffering of other human beings.
• A town celebrates as young men prepare to march off to war amid patriotic fervor
• A church service includes passionate prayers for victory and divine protection for soldiers
• A mysterious stranger interrupts, claiming to be a messenger from God
• The messenger reveals the unspoken part of the prayer – the horrific consequences for the enemy
• The congregation dismisses the stranger as a lunatic rather than confronting the uncomfortable truth
• Twain's satire highlights the contradiction between Christian values and support for warfare
If you've enjoyed this rendition, please leave a good comment, a five star rating and subscribe and share this with someone who desperately needs to be tired.
Hello, are you tired? You will be. This is Ron Reads Ron Reads Boring Book Series, and today we're reading the War Prayer by Mark Twain. The War Prayer by Mark Twain. It was a time of great and exulting 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 were 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.
Speaker 1: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, swung by Nightly. The packed mass meetings listened panting to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest depths of their hearts, in which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks, the while the. In the churches, the pastors preached devotion to flag and country and invoked the God of battles, beseeching his aid in our good cause. And outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener 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 sake, they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.
Speaker 1:Early 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 a stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the fight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender. Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adorned, 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.
Speaker 2:God, all-terrible thou who ordainest, thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword.
Speaker 1: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 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 in the hour of peril. Encourage them in their patriotic work. Bless them, shield them in the day of battle and in the hour of peril. Bear them in his mighty hand and make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset. Help them to crush the foe. Grant them, and to their flag and country, imperishable honor and glory.
Speaker 1: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 the 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, which 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'.
Speaker 1:The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside, which startled the minister did, 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, and then, in a deep voice, he said I came from the throne bearing a message from Almighty God. The word smote the house with a shock. If the stranger perceived it, he gave no attention.
Speaker 2: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, 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 this prayer. He has 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 your 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 which may not need rain and can be injured by it. You have heard your servant's prayer and 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 and 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 compacted into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory, you must have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory, must follow it, but cannot help but follow it.
Speaker 2:Upon the listening, spirit of God fell so 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 place of our beloved firesides to smoke the foe.
Speaker 2:O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells.
Speaker 2:Help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead. Help us to drown the thunder of guns and the shrieks of their wounded Writhing in pain. Help us to lay waste to their humble homes with a hurricane of fire. Help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unfailing grief. Help us to turn them out, roofless, with little children to wander unfriended, the waste of their desolated land and 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 tears, stain the white snow with 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.
Speaker 1:After a pause.
Speaker 2:You have prayed it. If you still desire it, speak the messenger of the Most High awaits.
Speaker 1:It was believed afterwards that the man was a lunatic because there was no sense in what he said. You've been listening to Ron Reed's the War Prayer by Mark Twain. If you've enjoyed this rendition, please leave a good comment, a five star rating and subscribe and share this with someone who desperately needs to be tired.