Luke 11:1-13 - Jesus Teach Us To Pray

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.