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As a child, I was taught to pray by
sisters at Saturday morning catechism. I went to public school, so my parents
enrolled me in CCD - the Confraternity of Catholic Doctrine - at our local
parish, which was run these charming older ladies in habits and veils. I don't
recall which community they were from, but I remember they seemed happy to be
working with me and the other kids in our small town in rural Nebraska where
I’m from. They smiled at me, complimented me, they were patient with me in a
manner my own parents were not. There
was something very loving about being in their presence I have never forgotten
even after all these years.
So, it was the Sisters’ job to
prepare us kids for the sacraments by getting us to memorize the words of the
Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Act of Contrition, among others. Talk about
herding cats, I don’t know where they got the patience to do this work. It was
hard enough to get up on a Saturday and show up to church, much less painstakingly
memorizing prayers word for word. But eventually with repetition and perhaps
the right amount of carrot ("Holy Cards, brown scapulars, plastic
rosaries!") and stick ("You'll die a sinner and go to
H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks" if you don’t pray), I was eventually able to master
my prayers like an auctioneer. So the sisters taught me well. In order to pray,
you have to know the right words and say them really fast. Praying is like
swimming laps in a pool. Take a big breath before you start and avoid stopping
for air; if you get lost, don't stop, just keep moving toward the end. God
knows what you mean even if you make a mistake. Just try your best.
Unfortunately, these sisters didn't
have time to teach me the actual meaning of the words. Anyway I loved these
sisters because they were so patient and so kind to us and seemed indescribably
wise. And, somehow, I believed they loved me too, I guess, because we were all
at Church on a Saturday morning when everyone else in their right mind was in
pajamas watching Saturday morning cartoons eating pancakes.
But now here I am. I find myself
reading this periscope in Luke and thinking this is not at all how I pray now.
And I don’t find the memorized prayers particularly useful in my adult prayer
life; at least I haven’t for a long time. Oh don’t get me wrong, I think they
have great liturgical benefit. When people gather together in community and
pray - or better yet, sing - in unison, I can feel the Spirit of God, sometimes
I even get goose bumps. But alone? by myself? I don’t feel any connection to
the divine that way.
I’m kind of like the disciple in
today’s Gospel who approaches Jesus, presumably on behalf of the others,
obviously marveling at the remarkable bond between Jesus and the Heavenly
Parent, and expressing “Teach us to pray, just as John Taught his disciples.” I
don’t it’s too unreasonable to say the disciple was essentially saying “I want
to have that kind of amazing relationship with God.”
So Jesus gives first a practical
answer in the form of the words and formula. “Father, hallowed be your name, your
kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins for we
ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not subject us to the final
test.” He is saying 1. Relate to God in a respectful yet lovingly intimate way,
as one might with your parents. 2. Ask for what you need, your daily bread. 3.
Please love us despite or wrongs and we will do likewise with our neighbor. 4.
Finally, never abandon us. As a mental health counselor, I recognize in here
basic human longings, essential needs for the kind of human connection we are
all longing for.
So this is the practical part. And
even though I may put other words to it, when I am praying on my own, my mind
will zero in in these same essentials. And of course I pray in times when my
need for connection seems particularly threatened. When I’m troubled by one of
the daily mass shootings or terrorist attacks I hear about on the news, or when
my partner and I have to navigate a strain in our relationship, or when I
contemplate my anxiety about my ability to earn a living in an expensive city.
But then Jesus goes on to comment
on what I think the disciples must have really been marveling at: Jesus’s
relationship with God. Respectful, yet lovingly intimate, as one might relate
to a parent. And Jesus accomplishes this, as he so often does, by sharing a
“Suppose you have a friend” story.
"Suppose one of you has a
friend to whom he goes at midnight and says, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of
bread, for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey and I have
nothing to offer him.” This is ancient Palestine. It’s a desert. Traveling is
extremely dangerous. And so the expectation is that hospitality in the form of
bread and a place to sleep is a basic human right. And the neighbor well aware
this, just doesn’t seem to want to get out of bed.
And then Jesus closes his parable
with: “I tell you, if he does not get up to give the visitor the loaves because
of their friendship, he will get up to give him whatever he needs because of
his persistence.” And I had to look this up. The word translated as
“persistence” is anaideian. Some
Biblical scholars prefer an alternate translation that makes more sense in the
context of the story “Shamelessness.” He [the neighbor] will get up and get the
bread because of his shamelessness. Because of his desire to be without
shame. Certainly it would be a shameful act to refuse hospitality to a
traveler, especially when the reason for doing so is personal comfort or
selfishness. We know, and Jesus confirms in the story, the desire to avoid
shame is a powerful motivator that can bring us to set aside our own comforts
so that our neighbor’s basic human rights will be respected. We must do this in
order to be right with our neighbor and in order to be right with our
relationship with God.
Jesus says, "And I tell you,
ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be
opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks,
finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” He wants us to
develop a relationship with God without shame. We set aside pride by asking for
what we want, and admitting that we need help. We encounter very real doors,
barriers, in developing a respectful intimate relationship with God, as one
might relate to a parent. But we must we willing to come to God and ask for our
needs to be addressed.
And Jesus leaves us with this final
image. Even bad parents, such as each and every one of us here in this room,
would still not feed snakes or scorpions to our beloved children when they come
to us hungry and in need. Imagine the delight of our Heavenly Father/Mother,
who is all loving and all good, will be ready to send out the Holy Spirit to us
when we ask.
I think the sisters who taught me
catechism by virtue of their wisdom and experience knew this. They modeled it
for me. Even if what they taught me was rote memorization, I still learned
about respectful familiar relationships from their unconditional love of me.
