In our gospel reading today, Jesus teaches us to pray what we have come to call the Lord’s Prayer. We recite the Lord’s Prayer so often, as a matter of rote, and I don’t know that we always hear all that’s in the prayer. In a sense, familiarity has bred ignorance of what the prayer has to say. Perhaps this centuries old formula still has something to teach us about how to approach God in prayer in a truly intimate way. “Father, hallowed be your name”: Being 21st century Christians rather than 1st century Jews, we miss some of the tension in this one statement. For Jews, the actual name of God is the holiest of names, the holiest of words, and is therefore unutterable. The common form of address in prayer was “adonai” which translates to “my lord”. But here, Jesus is telling us to call God -- to name God -- as father. In the Gospel sources, this term was probably the Aramaic “Abba” which translates as “Daddy” or “Papa”. We’re invited to address God using one of our first words. It couldn’t be more unexpected if the Prince of Wales was giving us permission to address his all-powerful parent as “Liz”. Jesus quickly adds “hallowed be your name;” the old form coupled with the new. He offers innovation while preserving tradition. He reforms while maintaining a reverence for that which is ancient practice. Obviously, Jesus was, in fact, an Anglican.
“Your kingdom come”: This would have been a powerful statement for 1st century listeners in Palestine. After years of occupation by a brutal, blasphemous foreign power, to call for ‘God’s kingdom to come’ would sound like a battle cry against the injustice heaped on by the occupiers. Those of us who believe in and profess Gospel values know that the world is not run by those values. For us to call for ‘God’s kingdom to come’ is for us to call for justice and peace, for equality of rights and resources; it is to pray for “the Word” to become our flesh, our world. The 17th century Anglican Bishop Jeremy Taylor said “Whatsoever we beg of God, let us also work for it.” ‘Your kingdom come is both a call to God, and a reminder to us that we are to help bring the kingdom to those who hunger and thirst for it.
“Give us each day our daily bread”: Jesus’s listeners would have heard the echo in his words of the miracle of the manna from heaven that the Israelites ate on the flight out of Egypt. Jesus is reminding us that “all things come of thee, oh Lord,” to quote the Prayer Book, while at the same time saying that it is our right to ask -- even demand -- of God whatever we need. There are many things that sustain us: unconditional love, companionship, security, freedom from fear, peace, acceptance. Yet, if we are to ask God for what we need, we’d best uncover what it is that we truly need. Some time in reflection before praying this petition will likely not yield requests for a new SUV or bike or ball gown. What is it that you really need? What is it that will truly sustain you? God wants to know.
“Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us”: Jesus knows the connectedness between forgiveness of others and self-forgiveness. In the South, there’s a saying: “Be careful who you point your finger at, you’ll find more fingers pointing back at yourself.” The things we find most irritating, even unforgivable, in others are often our own, sometimes unacknowledged, shortcomings. I think the kind of forgiveness Jesus is talking about and that God offers is more than remission of guilt. It is a healing of the woundedness that sin is borne out of in ourselves and in others. To be forgiven and to forgive means that we will be brought into a deeper awareness of our true selves -- it gives us a more intimate knowledge of the humanity of others, which is none other than our own humanity, flawed yet forgiven.
“Bring us not to the time of trial”: In our reading from Genesis this morning, Abraham prays and prays and prays to God to preserve the righteous in the unrighteous city of Sodom. We learn from Abraham that our prayers matter, that our prayers are efficacious. The last time I preached on this text was in 2004, and at that time, in my office in the city, we’re updating our emergency phone list and making sure everyone has a ‘go bag’ at his or her desk, with some water, cookies, a battery powered radio, comfortable shoes. Because the anniversary of September 11th was just around the corner and the Republicans were about to hold their convention in New York. I expect another time of trial; but I will not stop praying that such trials be not visited upon any of us ever again.
I think the late 16th century French bishop Francois Fenelon understood the intimacy God is calling us to in prayer -- and the difficulty that lies in approaching that intimacy. Fenelon wrote an almost perfect restatement of the Lord’s Prayer, which seems to come more out of our perspective. Lord, I don't know what I ought to ask of you. You alone know what I need. You love me better than I know how to love myself. O Father, give to me, your child, that which I don't know how to ask... I would have no other wish than to do your will. Teach me to pray. Pray yourself in me.+Amen
(c) The Rev. Mark R. Collins
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