Trinity 6 Year C – Col 2:6-19 and Luke 11:1-13
Lord, teach us how to pray.
“Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread.
forgive us our sins,
for we also forgive everyone who sins against us.
And lead us not into temptation.”
Prayer.
What can we find to say about prayer in an environment where it can be used as a cover for hypocrisy, an easy mantra to fool the vulnerable? “Our thoughts and prayers are with you,” politicians say to bereaved parents whose children were gunned down because these same politicians failed to do what is just and good.
Even the ancients understood that empty prayers meant nothing. There was a saying in ancient Greece: “Together with Athena, move your own hands also.” In other words, ‘Do something, don’t just pray!’
The disciples had witnessed that whenever their teacher, the one they called “Master,” had exhausted himself doing good, he would withdraw from the crowd in order to pray. And they had seen the results of those prayers in his life-transforming deeds and in his unfathomable peace. “Lord, teach us how to pray!” They too wanted that peace and strength, the utter assurance that Jesus had in doing the will of his Father. “Lord, teach us how to pray.”
The simple and profound words that were the response to that request have become known as “The Lord’s Prayer.” Throughout the centuries countless faithful have uttered them together, and are uttering them still. They are words that rise up and blend into an endless prayer of praise, of supplication, of doxology.
Prayer is very important in Lukes Gospel.
Many important events take place while Jesus is praying – including of course, his teaching of his disciples this particular prayer, which has ever since been a marker of the followers of Jesus.
On the one hand, the prayer does not overtly say very much about Jesus himself – but in actuality it says a great deal, for it makes clear that his ministry is founded on his deep trust in God as ‘Father’, and in his commitment to bring in his father’s ‘kingdom’ into a world in which the notions of kingship often approached despotic tyranny.
Once Jesus has taught his disciples this prayer, in Lukes Gospel,. it is then ‘echoed’ in his later ministry and in his own passion. For example, the parable of the forgiving father (Luke 15.1-32), and the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16.19-31) – both echoing the phrase ‘give us this day our daily bread’; the command to forgive your fellow disciples (Luke 17.1-4), and ‘Father forgive them for they know not what they do’ (Luke 23.34) – echoing the phrases, ‘forgive us…as we forgive’.
Jesus is offering us the supreme example of how ‘Prayer can be valid’ – validating itself in his own life and actions.
The political context in which Jesus exercised his ministry – especially as reflected in the Gospel of Luke – offers us important pointers for our own understanding of the relationship between faith and politics.
Jesus (and his contemporaries) were regularly confronted by how they should ‘react to the Romans’. Should he/they collude with the Roman authorities (as did many of the religious authorities)? Or should they struggle against them (as did the Zealots)? Or should they seek to turn their backs on the political arena altogether and retreat to a form of quietism (as did the Essenes/Qumran community)? My argument would be that Jesus refused either to completely adopt one of these positions – and also refused to deny their possible validity. And it was actually the ‘holding together’ in his own person of these competing options that led to his crucifixion.
This has implications for us today when we pray ‘your kingdom come’. We are somehow seeking to hold in a creative tension the positive realities of the world in which we live with our acknowledgement that what we have at the moment is not perfect and is not ultimately how God wants our world to be. We are committed to making a change – even while we acknowledge that such change cannot be the final word. There is a wonderful prayer ‘We are prophets of a future not our own’ (ascribed to Oscar Romero, though unlikely to be by him) that picks this up, it goes like this:
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
To pray ‘your kingdom come’ is both an acknowledgement that politics and politicians will never be perfect, but that we are also justified in seeking leaders who will live out a vision of integrity and justice.
It also has possible implications for the well-being of our earth, as more and more we see the impact of climate change all around us – even though we as individuals are unlikely ever to be able to ‘do enough’ in the area of combating climate change, we are all called not to despair but to be working with others for incremental change.
Lord teach us to pray, not with empty words, but with words that lead to action and are echoed in our whole life. Amen