Faith &Reason: The Princess and the power of prayer

So farewell, then, Diana, Princess of Wales. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York have removed you from the state prayers said in your former mother-in-law's churches each Sunday.

Of course, they haven't: you're still in there somewhere, part of the "and all the Royal Family", united more closely to them in prayer than you choose to be in real life. But you won't be prayed for by name any longer (even though tomorrow you probably will be - there's nothing like an archiepiscopal directive to bring out the gallantry in our priests).

If it is any consolation to the Princess, she will continue to feature in the Church's prayer books for decades. These things are built to last, while earth's proud empires pass away. I'm sorry to say, though, that she isn't yet old enough to have made it into any of mine. In a clerical household, prayer books proliferate like copies of The Kon-Tiki Expedition and The Diary of Adrian Mole do in more normal houses. Pulling them off the shelf at random, I could pray for "our most gracious Lord, King George . . . our gracious Queen Mary, Edward Prince of Wales, and all the Royal Family"; or even "our most gracious Sovereign Lady, Queen Victoria . . . Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, the Princess of Wales [Alexandra] and all the Royal Family". There's even one, admittedly a Victorian reproduction, which beseeches the Lord "maie it please thee to kepe Edward the .vi. thy seruant our kyng and gouernor".

What other consolations can I offer the Princess? First, not being specifically named in a prayer doesn't reduce its efficacy, otherwise how could the Church countenance leaving the Princess Royal, or Prince Edward, or Princess Margaret off the list? Second, she's still in there, and therefore still one of the objects of that magnificent petition: "endue them with thy Holy Spirit; enrich them with thy heavenly grace; prosper them with all happiness; and bring them to thine everlasting kingdom."

This wording is the counter to anybody who offers her the false consolation that, since none of the prayers have worked, it doesn't matter what the archbishops decree. Admittedly there doesn't seem to have been much prospering with happiness lately; but who is to say how Spirit-endued she is, or how enriched with heavenly grace? As for the journey to the everlasting kingdom: until that is completed we need all the prayer we can get.

It is true that, despite the prayers of the nation, she and Prince Charles loused up their marriage. It is true, I suppose, that the Church's prayers in 1549 only managed to keep Edward VI "kyng" for another four years. Nevertheless, to deny the power of intercessory prayer is to misunderstand its application.

Christian lives, and therefore Christian prayers, are an unending cycle of aspiration and failure. The experience of failure in the past, and the certainty of more of it in future, seep into even the most optimistic prayers; but instead of undermining them they make them, paradoxically, more necessary, and more mature. If the lives of those for whom we prayed were successful, there would be no need to pray. If the world was run on the basis that every prayer was answered positively, chaos would reign. Prayer is the acknowledgement of failure, and the girding of one's spiritual loins to start again.

It is at this point in discussions about prayer, and especially intercession, that people do well to cower behind phrases like the "mystery" or the "unfathomableness" of God. Nobody can explain the mechanics of prayer; nobody can say why some prayers appear to be answered and others not; and nobody can really answer why, assuming an omniscient God, it is necessary to ask for anything anyway.

There are clever-dicks who say that, actually, every prayer is answered: it's just that sometimes the answer is no. This holds water when considering prayers about Manchester United winning the next round against Juventus. But when it's something that God ought to want, like a marriage working out, such a theory seems perverse. The God I pray to is more like Don Camillo's. His answer to my requests is, "I'll see what I can do." Heavenly grace He can do; everlasting kingdoms He can do; things with earthly repercussions He has to be more circumspect about.

Nevertheless, keeping Diana, Princess of Wales in the forefront of people's minds He shouldn't have any trouble over, even without the archbishops' help.