I won’t say the prayer, but I will sit politely with the person while they do it, and I will respect their religious beliefs. Meaning, I won’t nitpick and heckle while the bereaved is praying.
And you could ask if you can pray in my house, for me, but you won’t like the answer much. My house = my heathen rules.
Come to think of it. There’s a fundie church down the street from me. Every once in a while, some of the church members walk around the neighborhood “ministering” to the locals. (Read: create good PR so we don’t evict them from the 'hood.) One fine sunny Sunday, I was working in my front yard, ass deep in mud, when 2 or 3 of the local fundies approached me and asked me if I had anything I wanted them to pray about for me.
I stopped and seriously considered it. If I were going to ask god for something, why not send his ambassadors to go ask for me? Then I realized, I have nothing to ask for and if I was god, I’d be really irritated with people constantly begging for shit all the time. So I said, “Well thank you. As it turns out, I am very blessed. I want for nothing.”
And the ladies, all wide-eyed, could not understand why you wouldn’t want to ask god for shit. “Are you sure?” One woman said. “Health? Better job?”
“Okay, tell you what,” I said. “How 'bout you send up a prayer of thanks because I am happy, I am blessed and I truly am not in need of anything, and I’m very, very grateful for that.”
Dubious, they agreed to send my thank you note to god and wandered off, completely mystified.
