Sunday, July 24, 2016

Sermon - July 24

Pentecost 9
Luke 11:1-13, Genesis 18:20-32
                                                                                                                                                                                                         
            It is a difficult thing – to pray.  It is a difficult thing – to know how to pray.  It is sometimes not difficult enough – not to know what to pray for.

I love every story in the Bible – and I love that story from Genesis 18.  It is a beautiful and wonderful story.  And when told and retold among the religious communities of the ancient near east, this story was a tremendous statement about the graciousness of the God of the Hebrews; this story exposed the unthinkable thought that a “god” would listen, even to a faithful servant, and care what that servant had to say.

But we don’t live in the ancient near east.  And 4,000 years have passed between the time of Abraham and the times in which we live.  I wonder, if perhaps, we have become too comfortable with the realization of God’s graciousness and eagerness to hear our petitions.  What if that is the case, so that when we hear this story from Genesis 18 we think THIS is the way that the followers of Jesus are to pray.

Here is what I fear – that after reading of Abraham’s bargaining with the Lord, we might read Jesus’ instructions on prayer and think that this he is encouraging the same behavior.  I am afraid, that all too often, we already misunderstand prayer – thinking of it as an opportunity to negotiate. 

I just don’t believe this is what Jesus intends us to do.  I don’t believe that such an understanding of prayer is helpful to us or to our life of faith.

Prayer is important.  Understanding prayer is a life-long process.  And it isn’t (always) easy.  Why else would Luke introduce this whole section with an acknowledgement that the Disciples come to Jesus, asking him to teach them to pray.  They needed instruction.  Why would we assume that we do not?

There are countless prayer books.  Amazon.com easily identified 252,086 titles.  AugusburgFortress (our church publishing house) listed 76 matches.  I haven’t read that many books on prayer; but I have read a few.  Perhaps you have, also.  In which case you can support me when I say that not all of those books are in complete agreement.  Those who write books on prayer usually write because none of the previously written books speaks directly to their own experience of prayer.  Searching for that which does articulate their experience, they make another contribution to the offerings.

Prayer is very individual.  Prayer is extremely personal.  Prayer speaks the deep yearning of our hearts. 

Jesus’ disciples come to him and ask, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.”  (I have kind of glossed over that part – that Jesus’ disciples have noted that John taught his disciples.)  Jesus’ disciples ask him to help them learn to speak the language of one’s soul.  His response is to give them the prayer we continue to pray, each and every Sunday.  By-the-way, I did a search of Amazon.com for books on “The Lord’s prayer.”  Fewer titles than before – but I still got 31,385 suggestions.

I resisted the urge to start ordering books.  I also know that I am a slow reader.  What I decided to do was pull a small book (very small book) off my shelf and re-read it.  Maybe you have one of these books in your house, too.  Perhaps you have parts of this book committed to memory.  At one time in your life, you probably did.  Luther’s “Small Catechism” doesn’t teach us everything we would want to know about prayer, but it points us in a good direction.  (I almost said “Right Direction” but I realized that would be “wrong.”  There is nothing more “right” about Luther’s understanding of prayer.  It only has importance among us because we have self-identified as individuals who find his presentation of the Gospel to be a comfortable fit with our own.)

If you no loner have Luther’s Small Catechism committed to memory, you can look it up on the back of the hymnal – it begins on page 1160, in the very back.  You can also use that handy-dandy QR code on the back of your bulletin to download a copy to your smart phone.

As much as I would like to do so, I won’t turn this into a two-hour lecture on Part III of the Catechism – that part which deals with the Lord’s Prayer.  I will use this time to re-direct you to your own study, reminding you that Luther scoffed at those who would read the Catechism once and toss it into the corner as if it had been mastered.  He returned, daily, to the Catechism.  Committed it to memory and drew from it in practically every situation.  It is my own reading and re-reading of the Catechism which lies behind my revulsion at the mere suggestion that prayer is an opportunity to bargain with God.  Luther sees it quite differently.

When he writes on the 4th petition and the 6th petition, he instructs us that we need not plead our case before God, God is already on our side.  “Give us this day, our daily bread,” (Petition 4) is for Luther a prayer which reminds us that this is indeed what God has already done.  God sends the rain, scripture tells us, on the just and the unjust.  Praying the prayer our Lord taught us is not an opportunity to ask God for something that we lack, it is an opportunity to be reminded that God has already provided for us “everything needed for this life.”  When we pray, at the bedside of a sick child, we ought to be so thoroughly schooled in God’s graciousness that our prayers are offered with the confidence that God already knows our need.  When we speak of “answers” to our prayers, our repetition of the Lord’s Prayer reminds us that God has already come to us.  God delivers us from the time of trail; He does not lead us into temptation. 

Martin Luther was a monk in the Augustinian Order.  Augustinian piety was pervasive in the 16th Century Church.  This piety allowed, if not directly encouraged, us to think of ourselves as persons engaged in a constant battle to please God.  In Augustinian piety, salvation was a promise (for when we died) but it was not yet a reality.  One lives their whole life trying to believe, think, say, and do those things which would lead to a positive verdict when it was time to determine whether salvation had become effective for us. 

Luther spent his youth and young adult years in mortal fear that when the time came, God would judge him rightly.  Luther knew that where he to be judged rightly, God would need to acknowledge all his failings and therefore condemn him to Hell.  What a gift it was, to Luther, when he had the opportunity to study and write on the Lord’s Prayer.  In examining the introduction to the prayer, Luther was reminded that Jesus instructs his disciples to see God, not as some fierce and angry judge, but as a loving parent. 

Luke opts for the shorter introduction phrase.  He simply refers to God as “Father.” Matthew has the more familiar, “Our Father in heaven.”  Luther understood the power of this opening.  How differently might we pray to God if, rather than thinking of God as the one who judges us we find it possible to understand God as a loving parent?  After all, what parent, when asked by a child for an egg will give them a scorpion instead?

I do believe that it is injurious to our life of faith when we approach prayer as an opportunity to bargain with God.  Not that I haven’t done it, on occasion, myself.  But it doesn’t help.  Jesus offers this prayer in response to the Disciples’ request that he teach them to pray.  If they could acknowledge a need for instruction, why shouldn’t we?  Amazon has 252,086 titles.  You could go home and start ordering (and reading.)  Or, you might pull out your copy of the catechism, dust it off, and see what happens when you re-commit to memory the words of a teacher who struggled - but finally made peace - with the God of our salvation.

Amen.


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