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Having
watched Jesus pray on many occasions—and Jesus evidently prayed often
and in silence, but with great passion and intensity—his disciples
finally recognized their spiritual poverty and screwed up the humility
to make the request, “Lord, teach us to pray.”
Have you ever
observed anyone praying—and I mean really praying—with such
passion and intensity you felt impelled to ask that person to teach you
to pray?
While I’ve
observed people praying with passion and intensity, I’ve never felt
impelled to ask them to teach me to pray. It is quite likely equally
true that I don’t pray with the passion and intensity that impels people
to ask me to teach them to pray. After all, no one has ever asked me to
teach them to pray!
Are all of those
people whom I’ve observed praying with passion and intensity failures
because I haven’t asked them to teach me to pray? Likewise, am I a
failure since I evidently don’t model for others a priest who prays with such
great passion and intensity that they are impelled to ask me to teach
them to pray?
Before we get
depressed, let me say, the answer to both of those questions is “I think
not.”
The reason we’re
not “failures in prayer,” I think, has to do with the difference between
the statements “Lord, teach us to pray” and “Lord, teach us
how to pray.” If you were listening closely as today’s gospel was
proclaimed, you noticed that Jesus’ disciples requested, Lord, teach us
to pray” not “Lord, teach us how to pray.”
What does it mean
to make the request, “Lord, teach us to pray”?
I believe this is
a very important question because Jesus responded to his disciples’
request with a prayer, one with which we are all familiar, namely, what
we Roman Catholics call the “Our Father.”
Quite likely,
most of us were taught this prayer “on the school of our mother’s knee”
or perhaps kneeling at our bedside next to our dads just before they
tucked us into bed and read to us a bedtime story. Like Jesus’
disciples, we quite likely thought Jesus’ words provided the “how”
we are to pray. Like three-year-old Jason, who prayed: “Our
Father, Who does art in heaven, Harold is his name....” Then,
there’s four-year-old Caitlin, whose mother had been teaching Caitlin
the Our Father for several evenings at bedtime by having Caitlin repeat
lines from the prayer. One night, Caitlin decided to pray solo.
Her mother listened and her heart swelled with pride as Caitlin
carefully enunciated each word, right up to the end of the prayer, “Lead
us not into temptation but deliver us from e-mail.” And, that’s
not to forget one four-year-old who prayed, “And forgive us our trash
baskets as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets.” So,
like these young people, we prayed the Our Father by repeating words we
heard clearly and distinctly but likely didn’t understand quite as
clearly and distinctly.
For me, what is
most interesting about Jesus’ prayer are two elements in its
construction. First: while the prayer is directed to God, the word
Jesus used to address “God”—“Abba,” in Hebrew—challenges us to
re-consider our relationship to God if we are to pray with passion and
intensity. Second, the “perpendicular personal pronoun ‘I’ ” (as a
friend and fellow Augustinian, Fr. George Lawless, calls it) never
appears in Jesus’ prayer. The absence of any reference to “I” (and
“me,” “my,” and “mine”) challenges us to reconsider our place in the
world if we are ever to pray with passion and intensity.
So, let’s unpack
those two elements of the Our Father just a bit in order to contemplate
what it might mean if we were to pray as Jesus taught his disciples.
First, the most
common way the Jewish people in Jesus’ day started their prayers was
with the phrase, “Baruch atah adonai, elohaynu melech ha’olam…”,
that is, “Blessed are You, Lord God of all creation, who brings
forth….” Notice how these prefatory words give recognition to the
awesome power and majesty of God the Creator, “Blessed are You, Lord God
of all creation,” whose goodness to His creatures is evident as God
provides everything they need. Yet, also notice the distance suggested
by that prayer: God, the all-powerful and omnipotent one “up there”
provides for the needs of His creatures “down here.”
In contrast,
Jesus begins his prayer with the Hebrew word, “Abba,” oftentimes
rendered in English as “Father.” This translation actually does a grave
disservice to what Jesus taught his disciples. Why? Because the word
Abba bespeaks not the formality of a child saying “Father” as in “Yes,
Sir,” or “No, Sir”—as if God is some great and distant Omnipotent One─the
“Great Oz the Magnificent”─
located somewhere way “up there” and we are some tiny and insignificant
being located somewhere way “down here.” No, Jesus’ use of the term
Abba is better translated “Daddy”—the word a young child uses to
identify that very personal, intimate, and particular relationship of
paternal love. Jesus teaches his disciples to begin prayer with
the understanding that God is a big, strong man, one who is ready to do
anything for his child and who, in that child’s eyes, is capable of
doing anything. Yes, God is powerful and almighty. Yet, this God is as
close and loving as a doting Daddy.
When we relate to
God in a way that we experience God being as close to us, as being
concerned for us, and as caring for and protecting of us as would any
loving Dad, that’s how we begin to pray with passion and intensity. We
are not to address God in a formal way, as if God is President of the
United States or Chairman of the Joints Chiefs of Staff. No, we are to
address God informally, because whenever we turn to Him, God is as near,
concerned, and caring as any loving Dad.
Now, think for a
moment about your prayer, not how you pray but the attitude
you bring to pray. Do you begin your prayer with the attitude that
you are speaking with your doting and loving Dad?
If not, it’s
quite likely that your prayer is more formal than informal, more rote
and routine than passionate and intense, and quite likely pretty
dissatisfying not only to God but also to yourself. God wants to talk with His children, to laugh
with His children, to guide His children, to strengthen His children,
and to love His children as any doting and loving Dad does. How can God
do that when His children are ripping through prayers that have no
passion and intensity? Where’s the heart in all of this?
In their poverty,
the disciples screwed up the humility to request, “Lord, teach us to pray.” In our poverty,
we need to screw up the humility to make the same request.
It’s also fact
that the word “I” does not appear anywhere in the prayer Jesus taught
his disciples.
The title the
Catholic Church assigns to this prayer is the “Our Father.” The
emphasis is upon the word “Our.” Jesus taught his disciples: “Give
us…our daily bread….” “Forgive us our sins, as we
forgive those who sin against us.” As disciples, we are to pray
not for “my” needs and for “my” forgiveness but for “us” and “our” needs
and forgiveness.
Consider the
number of times you’ve found yourself praying to God for something you
want very much. Perhaps those prayers took one of these forms: “Lord,
help me to get well.” “Lord, give me strength to put up with this.”
“Lord, I really need this job.” “Father, help me to pass this test.”
“Almighty God, get me out of this mess into which I’ve gotten myself.”
Or: “Lord, deliver me from my in-laws.”
Now for a very
tough question: What percentage of your prayer uses words like “I” as
well as “me,” “my,” and “mine”? Thirty percent? Fifty percent? Ninety
percent? One hundred percent?
As Jesus’
disciples, whatever the percentage is, it is the percent of time we are
not praying! Why? Because the subject of all those prayers is
“me,” as if it’s “all about me” when it comes to prayer. To put the
matter baldly, I’ve never heard the term “holiness” defined as being
synonymous with “narcissism.” Quite the opposite! Holiness is
oftentimes defined as being synonymous with “selflessness.” Might we be
boring God to tears with all of those “Oh, please, please, dear God,
give me, give me, give…” prayers that are focused solely upon ourselves as if
there aren’t other and greater needs out there?
Now, this
concept—that prayer addresses our needs not my needs—truly
has power to revolutionize how we pray if we want to pray in a way that
is passionate and intense.
Imagine praying
in such a way that our prayers aren’t “selfish” but “selfless.” What
words might characterize those prayers?
We live in the
richest and perhaps most powerful country one earth. We always can find
enough bread to get us through each day. But, in Jesus’ day, that
wasn’t true. Neither was it true during the Great Depression. And, if
you’ve ever seen pictures or videotapes of those long lines of Russian
people oppressed by the Soviet system—young and old alike—lined up just
to get a ration of bread, you have a good sense of what it means to begin each
day hoping to get enough bread to make it through the day.
And yet, to
people like this, Jesus teaches not to pray that God alleviate their
hunger. Jesus didn’t say to pray, “Look, God, I am very hungry
and I need some bread, please give me some bread.” No,
Jesus taught his disciples to pray, “give us this day our
daily bread.” When we are desperate, Jesus teaches us to pray as a
community of faith with hearts full of confidence that God will provide
the bread all of us need to make it through the day.
During hard
times, the simple truth is that we don’t have what we need.
What “bread” do
spouses who are experiencing an extremely difficult patch in their
marriage need if they are to make it through the day? Not as
individuals, but as spouses…what bread does that small community of
faith need? That’s how spouses are to pray, “Give us this day
our daily bread.” When they pray together with passion and
intensity for the bread they need to “persevere in our commitment to
love, honor, and obey each other and God,” that’s when spouses are
really praying! Sadly, prayer of this type is absent from many,
many marriages. And, as starved as those spouses may be, where are
they to get the bread they need so that the graces God promised in the
Sacrament of Marriage will satiate the spouses’ hunger?
In our world today
where the traditional family is under assault from all sides, what bread
do Moms and Dads and kids need if they are to withstand this assault?
Families today are starved for the bread that will satiate their need
for warm ties, challenge, mutual understanding, encouragement, and
support as well as comfort and belonging. Not as individuals but
as the community of a family does its members find the bread that
satiates these needs, the bread that strengthens the family as family,
and the bread that encourages children to build true families as adults.
This bread is served as the family prays together especially at meals at
Sunday Eucharist. The statistics are clear: the family that prays
together, stays together. Where God provides the bread of life
that families need, nothing else is needed.
What bread do
young people who are being tempted to toss modesty, virtue, and honor to
the wind for the simple reason “everybody else is doing it”? Not as
individuals but as a community of young disciples, young people need the
bread of prudence, fortitude, and wisdom. That’s what young people say
as they pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” Young
people need to pray together with passion and intensity so that “we will
grow together in grace and holiness and wisdom before God and one
another.” That’s the only way young people of faith can withstand the
moral and ethical challenges confronting them. To wit: young
people who attend Generation Life and the World Youth Day events will
talk about how these events changed their lives. Knowing that they
are not alone in seeking grace, and holiness, and wisdom, young people
discover the happiness they need not the happiness they want.
See how the
structure of the Our Father has the power to revolutionize prayer if
we’re going to consider praying in a way that is passionate and
intense?
Jesus didn’t teach his disciples how to pray but
showed them instead a way to pray. In the Our Father, Jesus
emphasizes the importance of having a very personal, intimate, and
particular relationship with God so that our prayer expresses our love
of God, as if he were a doting and loving Dad. In the Our Father, Jesus also
showed his disciples a way to pray that emphasizes selfless concern for
the needs of our community, whether that is the community of a marriage,
the community of the family,
or the community of young people in our parish.
How many times
have we prayed the Our Father? Quite likely, many, many times. But,
how many times have we said the words, but failed to pray with passion
and intensity as Jesus taught? Quite likely, not often enough.
What Jesus taught
his disciples is a way to pray not how to pray. Jesus’
way emphasizes who we are and who God is so that our prayer is a
passionate and intense response to God our Father’s immense love for us
as a community of faith.
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HOMILY
