(1) He was praying in a certain place, and after
he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John
taught his disciples." (2) He said to them, "When you pray, say: Our Father,
hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. (3) Give us each day our daily bread. (4) And
forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us
to the time of trial."
-- Luke 11
Sometimes it's difficult to know what to say to God in prayer. Sometimes we have never
been taught to pray or are out of the habit. Sometimes we are worried that the words we
use will not flow off the tongue like the professional prayer-givers dressed in clerical
black robes. Sometimes our longing is so deep that we cannot find the right words. We have
a longing that the world's suffering might end, or that a loved one's agony might end, or
that our own burden might be lifted. Sometimes we don't know how to pray.
Should we pray a prepared prayer like the Simplicity Prayer or the Prayer of Saint
Francis? Does prayer need some image, metaphor or focus? Do we need a certificate of
proficiency for our prayers or are the prayers of a beginner acceptable? How shall we
pray?
Sometimes we really don't know what to say to God. The Apostle Paul had the same
difficulty. He says that none of us really knows what to say to God. Reading from Romans 8
he says: "We do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes
with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of
the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of
God." (Romans 8:26-27)
We do not know how to pray. Apparently the disciples faced the same dilemma. In today's
Gospel, Jesus has left the crowds for a while and withdrawn to care for his own soul. He
is praying and a disciple comes up to him and asks, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John
taught his disciples." He responds by giving them a prayer, "When you pray, this
is how you should speak to God, 'Our Father . . .'"
Now there are plenty of people who are offended that Jesus taught us to address God as
Father, you know, patriarchy and all that. That is why next Sunday Barbara will preach on
that subject. But just as Dan Quayle is not Jack Kennedy, and George W. is not . . . (no I
won't go there), so Mark Smutny is not Barbara Anderson.
To be sure, I am for inclusive language, as well you have noticed, but the most
offensive word in the prayer, according to William Willimon, may not be "Father"
but "Our."
In this first and most important prayer we are to pray, we are to pray not as
individuals, but as a family of the church. When we say "our" we are not
clinging to God as though God is my property. There is no domesticating this God. God is
not American or a capitalist or even a Christian. God is not a cheerleader for one tribe,
one church, one religion, one family, one person. We say "Our" because of the
stunning recognition that the One who is the Creator of the Universe, who flung the stars
in their courses, the God of heaven and earth, has willed to become our God. Before we had
an inkling of a spiritual longing, before we had the slightest nudge that our lives might
be incomplete without the Holy, God chose to reach out to us, to claim us, to love us, to
promise to be our God and to promise to bring us home.
There's more to this little word "our" than this. We pray "Our
Father" in the plural. We don't pray "My Father . . . give me this day my daily
bread and lead me not into temptation." There may be all kinds of religions that sell
such personal love and attention. I suppose at our root we all want Mommy and Daddy for
ourselves in one massive glut of narcissistic possession, but this is not the Christian
faith. There may be religions that come to you through quiet walks in the woods, or
sitting beside a babbling brook, or reading a book at home, or staring at your navel.
Christianity is not one of them.
Christianity is inherently communal. "Come, follow me," is a collective
enterprise. There is no one saint-only saints. There is no one disciple-only disciples. It
is a matter of life in the body, the body of Christ, the church. We are not isolated
individuals that peculiarly American idolatry-we are a communal enterprise. Yes, I know
it's messy but this is where the Spirit is found together.
Think of how you became a disciple. Was it sitting on a mountaintop in the trees? Was
it walking on the beach at dusk? Was it dancing in a field of daisies? Of course not. You
are here because another human being befriended you, mentored you, cared for you and told
you the story, the great story so that you said, "I want to know more." That's
why you are here.
Perhaps it was a parent or a child who said to you, "God is love," and
somehow you knew that it is true. Maybe it was a teacher or a colleague or a friend a
Christian friend. This is the way we come to know that we belong. Every time, we say
"Our Father," or if you want, "Our Mother," we are naming the way we
are saved, delivered, liberated as a group, as a collective, praying together, living
together, rejoicing and weeping and loving together. "Jesus, how shall we pray? 'Our
Father . . .'"
When we pray, "Our Father" or "Our Mother" if that is what you want
(I don't, but that's your choice) we are challenging the sacred institution of the family
as we know it. We are challenging and threatening family values. When we learn to pray,
"Our Father," our first family is not our biological family, but the household
of God, the church. Not only this church but the whole church wherever it is found,
Catholic, Pentecostal, Methodist, Presbyterian and the little tacky storefront.
Christianity teaches us to look beyond our families, our communities, tribes, nations,
ethnicities, cultures, and anything else that is restrictive and possessive and exclusive
and says to us "You are my brother! You are my sister!" We are inextricably
bound together in one human family. Apart from you I am not whole. "Jesus, how shall
we pray? 'Our
Father. . .'"
Prayer is a problem. Most of us have difficulty praying. We don't know where to begin.
We don't know whether we are crafting the words correctly or smoothly. We don't know
whether to speak or to be silent. We don't know whether to ask for what we want or what we
need. We don't know whether to demand it or beg for it or just sit in silence and wait.
The wonderful thing is that Jesus helps us to pray by giving us a prayer from the
heart. It's a prayer that if you say it enough will be with you until the very day you
die. With the Lord's Prayer you don't have to work up some new phrasing or deep urge. You
just say the words of this prayer by heart and you are praying.
May the God who searches you and knows you, who helps you in your weakness, and
rejoices in your strength, intercede for you when you know it not and when you know it
fully.
"Jesus, how shall we pray?" "When you pray, say: Our Father, . . .
hallowed be your name." Amen.
