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.