Proper 12, Year C: Genesis 18:20-33 and Luke 11:1-13
St. Faith’s Episcopal Church, Cutler Bay, Florida – July 25, 2010
Preacher: The Rev. Jennie Lou D. Reid+

“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God.
That shall be better than light and safer than a known way!” Amen.

In her 2009 novel The Help, Kathryn Stockett focuses attention on the black women who work as housekeepers for white families in Jackson, Mississippi, in the early 1960’s. After the murder of the black civil rights leader Medgar Evers, one of the book’s black narrators describes her experience of going to a prayer meeting at her church. As a deacon begins to lead the prayers, a 23-year-old black youth appears at the door and challenges the minister:
“‘What I want to know is,’ he say slow, angry, ‘what we plan to do about it.’
Deacon got a stern look on his face like he done talked with Jessup before. ‘Tonight, we are going to lift our prayers to God. We will march peacefully down the streets of Jackson next Tuesday. And in August, I will see you in Washington to march with Doctor King.’
‘That is not enough!’ Jessup say, banging his fist on his hand. ‘They shot him in the back like a dog!’
‘Jessup,’ Deacon raise his hand. ‘Tonight is for prayer. For the family. For the lawyers on the case. I understand your anger, but son – ’
‘Prayer? You mean y’all just gonna sit around and pray about it?’”

Indeed, why pray, when injustice runs rampant in the world? If God cares for us and longs for a just society perhaps even more than we do, what is the point of our prayer?

A simple answer is that human beings are wired to be praying creatures. Our human spirit seeks connection with the Divine Spirit, even when our minds have never imagined the concept. The great 4th and 5th-century theologian Augustine of Hippo, expresses the concept in this way: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in you.” Prayer is ultimately about resting in God, though it sometimes involves a considerable bit of wrestling.

Jesus models the relationship with God the Father we call prayer. Jesus seeks regular time apart with his heavenly Father, and his action inspires his disciples to follow his example. The problem for them is that they do not know what is going on in Jesus’ time alone with God. Therefore they ask Jesus to teach them how to pray. In response, Jesus first offers some words.

We begin by approaching God with the intimate address “Abba – Daddy.” What a bold address this is! We come to God as a child, trusting that God is delighted to spend time listening to our concerns. However, we immediately are to affirm our respect for our doting heavenly parent by adding, “hallowed be your name.” We are to be comfortable and familiar with God and at the same time acknowledge that we are not equals. God is the greater, the wiser, the more powerful.

Just as the closeness and the distance between ourselves and God are held in tension, there is also a need to divide our awareness: embracing a hope for the future while staying grounded in the present. We name our longing for the day when God’s reign of justice, peace, and wholeness will be a reality for all creation, and as we repeat the petition “your kingdom come,” we gain the possibility of being transformed by this hope. In the next breath, we look to God to supply what we need for today, and the request for daily bread puts us in the position of coming back every single day for more. As a result, our security depends not on our savings, but on our trust that we will receive what we need tomorrow, just as the Israelites expected manna in the wilderness, as God had promised. This petition challenges us to live in the present, ever aware of God’s generosity.

Then Jesus throws us another curve ball. Jesus’ prayer makes a connection between our longing for forgiveness and our willingness to forgive readily those who have harmed us. We want for ourselves a clean slate, God’s eradication of the willful acts and bumblings that have caused harm and have separated us from the relationships with God and others that make our lives worth living. Our dark side haunts us and exhausts us as we try to disguise it even to ourselves. We need relief. And Jesus knows that others need relief as well. By claiming before God that we are forgiving people, perhaps we can imagine becoming reconcilers and can acquire the strength to grow into forgiving people, by the grace of God.

Finally, Jesus instructs us to conclude, “Do not bring us to the time of trial.” This was Jesus’ own prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane the night he was arrested, on the eve of his crucifixion. Most lives know times of trial – a serious illness or the loss of a job or a disappointing development in a relationship. This closing petition reminds us that God does not engineer trials. Instead, God walks with us through these valleys – and gathers human friends to hold us up.

Jesus’ disciples want a prayer, and Jesus gives them some words. We Episcopalians, with our Book of Common Prayer, can appreciate the value of using prayers that have been thoughtfully articulated. We understand that praying shapes believing – that the theology expressed in our prayers, often reflecting lines of Holy Scripture, form us as God’s people. But prayer is fundamentally about a relationship with God. It is not about kneeling or folding our hands in a certain way or using formulaic words, like “in the name of Jesus.” Instead, prayer requires our honest engagement, our openness to crawl into the Divine Lap and share with our Heavenly Abba our thoughts and feelings. Whether we are thankful or afraid or annoyed, God wants us to offer it up. God is tough enough and loving enough to welcome anything we dish out.

We see this clearly in the account of Abraham’s debate with God over the future of the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah. Although God is disgusted with the mountain of misbehavior in these communities, God listens to Abraham’s plea that God refrain from obliterating them. Again and again Abraham pleads his case, trying to maintain the proper attitude yet speaking honestly. God decides when the conversation will end, and God decides unilaterally what to do about these sin cities. But the record of God’s willingness to listen to Abraham – as God had listened to the cries of the hurting people in Sodom and Gomorrah – and to engage in dialogue with Abraham gives us courage to approach the Throne of Grace with similar boldness.

Of course prayer is a central part of seminary life. During my three years at Virginia Seminary students gathered for corporate worship daily Monday through Friday. Professors began each class with prayer. Once every fall and on Ash Wednesday every winter, classes were suspended so that we could devote a day to prayer and reflection. I was one of many students who also worked with a spiritual director. I learned in this process that prayer at some times includes words and at other times embraces silence mindful of the presence of God. I learned from both the words and the silence.

In January of my senior year, my classmates and I sat for the General Ordination Exams, administered for five consecutive days. We would go to chapel and then pick up the morning exam question, whose answer was due back at noon. After lunch we would pick up the afternoon question, whose response we handed in at 5:00. Afterwards there was a chapel set up in a small classroom where students could go for prayer. On the fourth evening the room was set up with candles around an icon of Christ Pantocrator, meaning Christ the Almighty, a copy of the 6th-century painting on panel found in St. Catherine’s Monastery at Mt. Sinai.

The eyes of the icon are positioned so that the figure seems to be looking directly at the viewer, from whatever angle we turn our gaze. Our prayer leader offered a guided meditation inviting us to focus on the icon and name our needs before God. In the quiet that followed we could stay as long as we liked. I was weary, too weary for words. The week of reflecting and writing had been both stimulating and stressful. Acceptable mastery of the seven areas being tested – Scripture, Church history, theology, and so on – is required for ordination. After five semesters of study, the stakes felt very high. Earlier in the week I had prayed for wisdom and good time management and articulate answers. But on this day I just rested in God and focused on Jesus, walking this journey with me. In the silence I had a daydream. I was distributing bread at a communion rail, and Jesus said to me, “Your hands will be my hands.” I was startled, then perplexed, then relieved. In God’s presence I had received assurance that no matter how these exams turned out, everything would be all right. The Lord affirmed my calling and assured me that I would be engaged in priestly ministry. In an instant I found myself no longer tired. But I have spent the last ten years wondering exactly what to make of these hands!

Prayer is about spending time with God – sharing what matters deeply to us and open to learn what matters to God. We pray because God loves us and wants to be our daily companion, and we do not want to miss this heavenly grace. When we pray, we understand that God is involved in the world. In prayer we may receive consolation and challenge, answers and new questions. Through prayer we become more mindful of the world’s wounds and more inspired to reach out with random acts of kindness. At last, prayer is the place where the Kingdom of God actually does come.

Thanks be to God! Amen.

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from a poem by M. Louise Haskins (1875-1957)
Kathryn Stockett, The Help, Amy Einhorn Books, G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, 2009, page 209.