Pater Noster

[Our lessons were Genesis 18:20-32; Psalm 138; Colossians 2:6-19; and Luke 11:1-13.]

“Lord, teach us to pray.”

One thing we get from the Gospels is that Jesus prayed. A LOT. Over and over, we hear of him going off to pray. Sometimes he would withdraw from the crowds to pray. His disciples recognized that Jesus knew how to pray, so they asked them to teach them the “secret.”

What Jesus taught them is recorded in both Luke and Matthew and is called either the “Lord’s Prayer” or the Pater Noster—“Our Father” in Latin. The version we use in our liturgy actually comes from Matthew’s Gospel, so the version we just heard and will talk about today sounds a little different.

This prayer is so familiar, so much a part of our routine, that we need to take care to actually think about what we are praying and not let the well-remembered words slide by as we say them.

Another problem is that of translation. Jesus may or may not have known Greek, but he almost certainly spoke these words in Aramaic, which is what most people would have understood. The Gospel writers translated them into Greek after some period of time, probably 30 to 40 years after Jesus’ death and resurrection. And then some 1,500 years later scholars translated them into English. All this sounds very straight forward and scientific, but it isn’t. Greek to English translations are fraught with opportunities for ambiguity and confusion as the two languages are very dissimilar.

We have one of these possible ambiguities from the start. Our English translation says, “When you pray, say…” Some scholars believe that the Greek words could be translated as, “When you pray, you are saying…” This is an entirely different meaning. What we call “the Lord’s Prayer” isn’t specifically a Christian prayer. Any devout Jew could have already been praying these prayers. In this interpretation, Jesus was reminding the disciples that they already knew how to pray, because they’d been doing it all their lives. What he was doing was spelling out the meanings beyond words which were perhaps too familiar.

We begin by addressing God as “Father”. English loses some of the intensity of this address because English lacks a separate vocative case. The “Father” in this case is an urgent call: “Father, listen to us!” This isn’t a distant, far-off God. This is a God to whom we can relate intimately, whom we are to approach as “Father” or “Abba”, even as Jesus did.

The next two petitions call on God to be God. We honor God’s name as being holy. God’s Name is holy because God is holy. God is definitively good, definitively righteous, and definitively holy.

We then pray for the Kingdom of God to come. Luke’s version doesn’t contain Matthew’s clear placement of the Kingdom on earth, but that’s where it’s supposed to be. Right here, right now. The Kingdom of God is where God’s will is done, God’s justice is maintained, no one weeps or is in need, and death has been destroyed. We pray for God to take charge of life and the world, to bring justice and peace to the world, not to help us escape from the world in a “Rapture”, but to transform it so we can live in it as God intends for us to do!

We then follow with three requests for special needs.

Whether the bread in question is “daily” is questionable. The world in the Greek text that we say translated as “daily” is epiousios (ἐπιούσιος), which could mean “daily,” “tomorrow’s, or “necessary.” The word is unknown in Greek outside of this context. If the meaning is “daily”, then it probably is a reference to the manna provided to Israel in the Exodus. If it’s “tomorrow’s” bread, then it’s thought to refer to the Second Coming. If it’s “necessary” to our existence to survive, it means we are asking God to provide what is needed for our existence. Like more in the Bible than we like to admit, it’s not quite clear.

We ask God to forgive our sins for we forgive those indebted to us. This is quite different from the parallel language in the prayer from Matthew that we’re used to and the meaning is quite different. Some scholars believe that the Greek text is a request to God to treat our sins as we treat monetary debts. And the forgiveness we’re called upon to provide isn’t a “feel-good” personal well-wishing, it is actually changing the material circumstances of the poor. We ask God to extend mercy to us to the exact degree that we extend mercy toward others with our wealth and power. (I guess a certain news commentator missed this part of Luke when he said that there isn’t a concept of “social justice” in the Bible!)

Finally, we ask God not to bring us to the time of trial. Now, we’re used to the traditional language of the Lord’s Prayer asking God not to lead us into temptation. The word in Greek is peirasmos and not all scholars think “temptation” is the best English word. Does God ever lead us in temptation? Why would he? Remember in Mark’s Gospel, it was the Holy Spirit that drove Jesus into the wilderness; it was Satan who tempted Jesus, not God.

The more modern language, which you can see in the Prayer Book, has us ask God to “save us from the time of trial”. One writer I consulted says that she believes that the meaning lies in spiritual temptations—of thinking that we have the spiritual answers to ultimate questions and that those who disagree with our interpretation are wrong—and that these may be just the kind of temptation that only God can save us from. “Do not let the Spirit lead us into the wilderness where such temptations can occur!” In the parables that Jesus tells later to expound on the prayer, it is evident that seeking justice is much more important that being right.

So, we call on God as our Father. We ask that God’s holy name remain holy (I suspect we need to work on that one at times). We are to ask that God’s kingdom (and all that it means) come here and now. We ask for sustenance. We must have a forgiving heart in order to be forgiven. We ask God to help keep us from times of trial.

And then Jesus gives us an example of how this prayer should affect us. This little story of the neighbor and the bread isn’t best thought of as an allegory where God is the neighbor and we’re the one needing bread in the night. The point is that, if we are in right relationships with others, if we really treat them as if we are all members of the family of God, we will act in a certain way.

We sometimes seem to think that it’s God’s job to take care of the poor and that we are free from any responsibility. But we have to be a part of this prayer. If we’re part of this glorious family then we need to be the ones who are asked for bread, and we must be the ones who are sought out by the needy, and we are the ones who must open our doors. What would it be like if we really opened our hearts and our doors to people in need?

So this Gospel may be reminding you that this is how we pray. We don’t need to be doing anything outlandish or extraordinary. But we do need to keep our prayer in front of our eyes. We need to remember that God is the holy One. We need to remember that, while God does provide for us, we need to reach out to others and mirror God to them. We need to forgive and be forgiven. We need to remember that, however good we are, we are still sinners, all of us, but that God forgives us. If God forgives us and we claim to be God’s people, then shouldn’t we forgive each other? When we are open to the unconditional forgiveness of God, then we will come to be truly known as the Body of Christ—a group of people who welcome the stranger and the sinner as if they were ourselves. For so they are.

Independence Day!

Almighty God, whose wisdom and whose love are over all, accept the prayers we offer for our nation. Give integrity to its citizens and wisdom to those in authority, that harmony and justice may be secured in obedience to your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

In the Episcopal Church, when July 4th falls on a Sunday (as it does this year), there can be a bit of confusion. While we have a collect and assigned readings for Independence Day, the Calendar in the Book of Common Prayer make it clear that only certain dates take precedence over the lessons for a Sunday and Independence Day isn't one of them. So a church is faced with some choices:

• Ignore the rules and drop the Sunday lessons.
• Use the Sunday lessons, but bring in references to Independence Day in other aspects of worship, like prayers, hymnns, and flowers.
• Ignore Independence Day until tomorrow--the normal rule when Sunday trumps another date.

At St. Christopher's today, we chose the middle way--a typically Anglican response! We kept with the standard Sunday readings for a couple of reasons. First, the rules require it. Second, the readings for this Sunday in the Revised Common Lectionary are being used today in many other countries who probably aren't real excited about commemorating the Independence Day of the United States. This way we are worshipping in much the same way with the same readings from Scripture as many Christians around the world.

We processed into the church to the "National Hymn":

God of our fathers, Whose almighty hand
Leads forth in beauty all the starry band
Of shining worlds in splendor through the skies
Our grateful songs before Thy throne arise.

Thy love divine hath led us in the past,
In this free land by Thee our lot is cast,
Be Thou our Ruler, Guardian, Guide and Stay,
Thy Word our law, Thy paths our chosen way.

From war’s alarms, from deadly pestilence,
Be Thy strong arm our ever sure defense;
Thy true religion in our hearts increase,
Thy bounteous goodness nourish us in peace.

Refresh Thy people on their toilsome way,
Lead us from night to never ending day;
Fill all our lives with love and grace divine,
And glory, laud, and praise be ever Thine.

You can listen to an .mp3 file of this hymn here.

At the end of the service, we processed out into the world to America the Beautiful.

While we didn't go as far as some churches and drape the flag on the altar--a practice that I think approaches if not reaches idolatry--we did have red, white and blue flowers and small flags attached to alternating pews.

I couldn't help but be reminded of an earlier Independence Day that also fell on a Sunday--July 4, 1976, America's Bicentennial. I was between my junior and senior years of college and spent the summer at home with my parents in Springfield, Illinois, working part-time at the old Sears store on South Grand Avenue.

That morning, I first went to church at St. Paul's Cathedral. To commemorate the Bicentennial, the Cathedral put on a Eucharist using the Church of England Book of Common Prayer of 1662--the one that would have been used in the colonies on July 4, 1776. They tried to be generally faithful to the way that service would have been held: no "Romish" eucharistic vestments, for example, but they did say that the sermon would be kept under an hour! While the service was interesting as a one-off thing, the service was too dry and sparse for a "High Church" Episcopalian like me!

Then I had to rush home for a quick lunch, before heading to work at Sears. Sears was going to be open its normal Sunday hours at the time--12 to 5--and closed the next day on Monday, July 5th! I thought that was fairly stupid to be open on July 4 but not on July 5, but I don't remember anyone asking my opinion, as amazing as that sounds. I was also a little irritated to have to miss some of the July 4 festivities on TV, which were a lot more than normal because this wasn't any ordinary Fourth of July. Most people in Springfield found something else to do that day rather than come shop at Sears, because the customers were few and far between.

In these days with hundreds of channels on DirecTV, its hard to recall that in 1976, we had four stations to choose from: the NBC station in Springfield, the CBS station from Champaign, the ABC station from Decatur, and the PBS station from the University of Illinois. The first 24-hour news channel, CNN, was still four years in the future. So it was something pretty special when the networks ran hours of live coverage of the Bicentennial festivities.

One of the most picturesque events was Operation Sail's parade of 16 sailing ships from many countries to New York harbor--three of which, the Amerigo Vespucci from Italy, the Eagle from the United States and the Kruzenshtern (or Крузенштерн) from the Soviet Union are shown here.

Healing and Inclusion

[Our readings were Isaiah 65:1-9; Psalm 22:18-27; Galatians 3:23-29; and Luke 8:26-39.]

The story of the Gerasene demoniac we hear today in the Gospel of Luke probably seemed pretty humorous to the Christians of the First Century—who had a Jewish background—who first heard it.

You have to admit that the story is rather strange. You have a naked crazy man, talking demons, pigs charging off cliffs, tombs, chains, unhappy townspeople. All this on the wrong side of the Sea of Galilee in Gentile territory!

This made a good story: how un-kosher, unlucky and just plain strange those gentiles were and best of all, those unclean pigs came to a well-deserved end, unless you were a pig.

But this story has layers upon layers to it, rich with meaning. And the greatest meaning is that Jesus has power. He has just calmed the sea to get to where this story takes place and we will see even more.

First, the man. We never learn his name. All we know is that he lives naked in the tombs, chained, shunned by family, friends and neighbors. He is tormented by a host of demons.

(In fact the demons are called “Legion.” The hearers of this Gospel would instantly catch the reference to the Roman legions that occupied their land—the most powerful force of oppression of their day. But they are no match for the power of Jesus. At his command, they jump into the pigs and head to a watery death.)

We don’t really do demons very well in the 21st Century. What the people of the First Century attributed to demons, we now see as a form of illness. We have clearly progressed over the past 2,000 years. Or have we?

Instead of being possessed by demons, we might well say that this man was manic-depressive, or bipolar and possibly schizophrenic. He was excluded from his society. Thankfully, we don’t do that today. Or do we?

Today, if you visit mental health facilities or the streets of many of our cities where people live in cardboard boxes you might wonder if we have advanced that far after all. In many ways, we still exclude those who suffer from diseases of the mind, even when people successfully manage their conditions. Maybe we haven’t changed that much after all.

The ultimate point of the story is that Jesus has power to heal and restore those who have been excluded, like this man. When the townspeople arrive, the man who had been a naked, tormented outcast is now clothed and in his right mind.

We don’t know how well he was welcomed back into his community. We do know that Jesus told him to remain in his community and “declare how much God has done for you.” And he did.

We humans are very good at drawing lines and excluding. We do that all the time and it may be that the churches in Galatia to whom St. Paul wrote did that, too. So when we hear the powerful words of St. Paul: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus,” they suggest that the Galatians were separating and excluding Jew from Gentile, slave from free, men from women.

Those were hard words to First Century Jews steeped in a worldview that drew lines between themselves and outsiders—Gentiles. A common Jewish prayer of the day was: “Thank you, Lord, for not making me a foreigner, a slave, or a woman.” I suggest that was a prayer for Jewish men only and Paul plays off against that in his words.

While we are not all the same, no group must claim superiority over another, nor must we exclude one another. Our human distinctions are irrelevant to God: male or female; rich or poor; young or old; married or single; educated or unschooled; black, white, brown, red, or yellow; white-collar or blue collar worker; gay or straight. None of these things which often are so crucial to us matter in the slightest to God. These differences, so profound to us, are nothing compared to the power of Christ to reconcile all things.

Where is the church that truly lives out this vision? Do we truly treat everyone as one, not just in this building, but in all our lives? G.K. Chesterton wrote that Christianity “has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried.” When will we try it?

The familiar words of the old African American spiritual are “We shall overcome someday.” Why not today? Why can’t we bring the Kingdom of God into being today? In the midst of the battles about immigration: “There is neither native born nor illegal immigrant.” In the midst of our bad economic times, where income inequality is greater than ever: “There is neither monied nor working class nor power.” In the midst of our society still often polarized by race: “There are neither people of color nor people of no color.”

For we are all one in Christ! Christ alone matters. Christ is our unity; Christ is our focus; Christ is the beginning and the end; Christ is the cause for which we live; and Christ is whom nothing can separate us, not even death!

Never forget that Jesus’ ministry was mainly to the poor and excluded, like the Gerasene demoniac, not to the wealthy and comfortable. May we never forget that!

Repent!

Remember the first words spoken by Jesus in Mark's Gospel:

"The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." [Mark 1:15].

What does that say to us about the man-made disaster in the Gulf?

These days we think "repent" means feeling bad about things, but in the Gospel sense it rather means "change your path" or "turn aside from the failed road you are on". How better to describe our stewardship of God's creation?

We need to choose paths which are sustainable. I don't know anyone with even a smattering of scientific knowledge who believes that fossil fuel resources are infinite. Whether the date on which we use them up is 25, 50, 100, or 500 years from now, the day will come. Also, most uses of fossil fuels have negative environmental impacts, primarily through creation of greenhouse gases. Fossil fuels have done great things for us, but we have let them take us down the wrong road (pun intended).

Does that mean Christians must call for the immediate cessation of the use of fossil fuels? No. Without regard to whether it would really happen (and it won't), there aren't today sufficient alternatives to allow for it without huge economic devastation that would, as always, be most heavily inflicted on the poor.

Does that mean we do nothing? Again, no. There are things we can do, both personally and as members of a community, that reduce our reliance on non-renewable fuels. Where we can, take mass transit. When we purchase vehicles, factor fuel efficiency into our decisions. Do things in our homes that reduce the power and water that we use, as well as the impact generally on the environment. Support actions by all levels of government which reduce our use of these non-sustainable energy sources.

How does all this play into the unfolding disaster in the Gulf of Mexico? In a recent article, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, Katharine Jefferts-Schori, wrote

The still-unfolding disaster in the Gulf of Mexico is good evidence of the interconnectedness of the whole. It has its origins in this nation's addiction to oil, uninhibited growth, and consumerism, as well as old-fashioned greed and what my tradition calls hubris and idolatry. Our collective sins are being visited on those who have had little or no part in them: birds, marine mammals, the tiny plants and animals that constitute the base of the vast food chain in the Gulf, and on which a major part of the seafood production of the United States depends. Our sins are being visited on the fishers of southern Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, who seek to feed their families with the proceeds of what they catch each day. Our sins will expose New Orleans and other coastal cities to the increased likelihood of devastating floods, as the marshes that constitute the shrinking margin of storm protection continue to disappear, fouled and killed by oil.

***

There is no place to go "away" from these consequences; there is no ultimate escape on this planet. The effects at a distance may seem minor or tolerable, but the cumulative effect is not. We are all connected, we will all suffer the consequences of this tragic disaster in the Gulf, and we must wake up and put a stop to the kind of robber baron behavior we supposedly regulated out of existence a hundred years ago. Our lives, and the liveliness of the entire planet, depend on it.

It's easy to point fingers at BP and they deserve some of the blame. It's easy to point fingers at the Federal Government for allowing BP to drill in deep water without a clear method to deal with disasterous consequences. While we're pointing fingers, let's examine our own complicity through our insatiable thirst for cheap oil, large cars, trucks and SUVs. While we're demanding that BP and the Government repent and change their paths, what about us?

A prayer for the Gulf:

Creator God, author of life, source of all meaning, you made a universe of infinite complexity and beauty and entrusted us humans with the care of a tiny jewel called Earth.

With the passing of time we came to believe we were owners, not fellow creature dwellers, of this bountiful planet and its extravagant web of life. We have used God’s creation without regard for the impact our rapacity had on the other creatures with whom we share our earthly home. We have acted with craven disregard for complex ecosystems we barely understand. Our self-deception has led us to assume we have the capacity to manage environments we exploit to sustain lifestyles that defy the intrinsic interdependence of all life. Now we face the consequences of our idolatry. We thought we were gods; but our recklessness has brought us to our knees, to ask for your mercy and forgiveness for the chaos we have brought about. We pray for the oceans and all the creatures that dwell in it. We pray for the forests and the abundance of life they nurture. We pray for the very air we breathe, now laden with the toxic gases we produce. We pray for our children whose earthly home we have so imperiled. Loving God, have mercy on us, grant us forgiveness and the strength to make amends.

[Photograph by Mathew Hinton, New Orleans Times-Picayune]