The Graffiti Prayer

Rev. Dr. DeWayne L. Davis

This Week at Plymouth, August 2, 2024

“Jesus help us, amen.”

—Anonymous

For weeks, on my walking route along a commercial corridor near our home, I passed an old building undergoing extensive renovation. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed construction was complete, and a newly renovated empty building with gleaming new windows stood ready to be occupied. I remember thinking that somebody had better buy or lease it soon, or some bored kid or graffiti artist would see that pretty, clean glass as an invitation. As I predicted, someone had tagged the window a few days ago. But it wasn’t one of those stylistic symbols, intricate murals, or tags from an artist, gang, or neighborhood group that dot the landscape of urban areas throughout the nation. No, in shaky, thin lettering with no particular artistic skill or even minimal dexterity with a can of spray paint, was a simple prayer: “Jesus help us, amen.” I was stunned that someone filled an empty canvas with a graffiti prayer for motorists and pedestrians to see and ponder.

My curiosity about the graffiti prayer has remained strong. I’ve been wrestling with several questions since I first saw it. Is it a genuine prayer, or was it something a kid did for a dare? Was it a young person who spray-painted the message? Does the person who wrote it even consider it a prayer, or is this an attempt at irony or comedy? What kind of help does the spray-painter need if it is a genuine prayer? Is it personal, economic, or emotional help? When they said “us,” did they mean their own family, this neighborhood, or the nation? Or is the prayer just a general cry for help for everyone? What response did the person hope to get from those who saw the graffiti prayer? Did they expect us to become intercessors on their behalf? Has that prayer been answered?

The graffiti prayer has resonated with me. I’m taking it seriously. Maybe the person who wrote it has a genuine need they are trying to fulfill, and this was the only way they could express it. However, I find myself taking a more expansive view of the graffiti prayer’s concern. It seems like the writer understands our challenges and represents our collective vulnerability and desire for hope and clarity during a dispiriting time. This is why I can’t just ignore the prayer. I can’t help but think about praying with and for the person who took the time and risk to write it on a renovated building. Because of this graffiti prayer, there is something satisfying in being prompted to think about prayer. As the author Cole Arthur Riley described opportunities for liturgy, this public prayer has become, for me, “a form for sacred experience, often practiced in the community and habitually.” I’m grateful to the writer of the graffiti prayer because they’ve made me pray with and for the anonymous supplicant: Jesus help us, amen.