July 28, 2013

Sarah Park

Pentecost 10     Luke 11:1-13

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I roto i te ingoa o te Matua,

o te Tama, me te Wairua Tapu.

Amine.

It seems to be that every time I preach at St Matt’s, I have a problem with the Scripture that the Lectionary has assigned. Today is no different! Abraham bartering with a reluctant God on behalf of the righteous people of Sodom. Then, following the overly familiar Lord’s Prayer, Jesus’ somewhat disquieting parable of the desperate friend trying to rouse his neighbour at midnight. All of which is capped off by the pithy “Ask, search, knock” as a takeaway verse. With Scriptures like these, it is perhaps not surprising that plenty of people of faith (and a good number who might not claim that title) conclude that “if we nag God enough, [God] will come through with the wherewithal for our lives.” [1] 

Robert Capon writes, I have nothing against urging persistence in prayer; but … persistence doesn’t win anywhere near often enough to be held up as the precondition of God’s answering prayer. 

And I will not let you hand me the cheap, cruel [response] that when persistence doesn’t win it probably wasn’t real persistence. Tell that to somebody who asked, and sought, and knocked till her knuckles bled for a child who eventually died anyway. Or if you don’t have the nerve for that, try at least to remember that no matter how persistent or productive your prayers, there will inevitably be, on some dark day, one whoppingly unproductive prayer of yours … that God will answer, “Sorry; the door … is already shut…” [2]

So what are with to do with these texts? Close the Bible? Conclude that God is like a crooked politician who needs persistent lobbying in order to do obvious good?

Discard prayer as a useless waste of time, and skulk off? 

As I was weighing up these as possible options, I heard a story on Te Manu Korihi news on Radio New Zealand. My ears pricked up at the first line:

An expert in Te Reo Maori says karakia (or prayers) need to be adapted to remain relevant in today's society. Po Temera teaches at Te Wananga o Aotearoa. 13 graduates are now part of a 1-off, 2 year course about karakia, or prayer… Karakia are often used for opening ceremonies or to bless new buildings. Professor Temera says … traditional karakia fall short of fulfilling the needs of the modern environment. … In order for there to be understanding of what we need to do and compose for our environment we also need to have an excellent understanding of the psyche that went on in the minds of our [ancestors]. So what we are doing is bringing the past to the present.’ [3]

It seems to me that this is precisely the task before us, too. Our traditional understandings of prayer fall short of fulfilling the needs of our post-modern environment. Thus, we need to seek to understand what is going on in the psyche of these texts in order to bring them helpfully into the present. Or as the disciples might have put it, “Lord, teach us to pray.” 

Call me a wuss for side-stepping Genesis, but I happen to know that Glynn tipped his hat to that passage in last Sunday’s sermon, so I’m going to tackle Luke instead. And there’s plenty to be going on with there. The first thing to note is the Lord’s Prayer, the parable of the friend at Midnight, and the Ask, Search, Knock injunction belong together. Separate these elements from each other and what they have to say about prayer becomes distorted. 

Note that Lord’s Prayer responds to the disciples’ request that Jesus, who so often took himself off to pray, teach them how to do it. 

The way that the church has integrated these words into its life over two millennia means that they carry a subliminal quality. Even those who have long since discarded faith can recall large parts of this prayer, so ingrained is it in the Christian psyche. For some there is comfort in knowing that when we can no longer find words with which to speak to God, these remain. Yet there is a distinct disadvantage to this liturgical familiarity. 

Douglas John Hall notes that “Pious convention has conditioned most of us to repeat this prayer so quietly and reverently that we fail to recognize” just how badly mannered it is. After a relatively short salutation, (which has no softening tone), no “please” or “thank you”, the prayer basically says “Give us, forgive us, lead us, deliver us.” Just a hop, skip and a jump away from being rude. 

We know from our own experience that prayer emerging out of desperation is the usually the least eloquent and the most honest. 

Hall writes that “the whole assumption of this prayer is that it is uttered out of a condition of real necessity. The one who prays thus is driven by great need – there is neither the inclination nor the time for … pretence.” [4] And we, the church, teach our children to mumble it, or to sing it beautifully in a manner that belies its energy, drive and need.

“Give us” recognizes that beyond our illusions of control, ultimately we are dependent on God. “Forgive us” acknowledges that no matter how stridently we might justify ourselves, we unwittingly and deliberately cause hurt. “Lead us” and “deliver us” remind us that the prerequisite for being found, is knowing ourselves to be lost.

And so, this prayer points beyond its own content towards the very purpose of prayer; the invitation to enter an honest and unpretentious conversation with the Holy, in which we might discover who we are. This prayer that Jesus put on our lips is what Barbara Brown Taylor was getting at when she suggested that the most appropriate posture of prayer is naked in front of a mirror; for there, it is impossible to pretend we are anyone other than who we really are.

When we understand the urgency and honesty of this prayer, then the parable that follows simply reinforces the point in picture language. Hall writes, “Authentic prayer is not a meek, contrived and merely ‘religious’ act; it is the act of human beings who know how hard it is to be human. 

Real prayer cannot be faked. Its only prerequisites are sufficient self-knowledge to recognize the depths of our need, and enough humility to ask for help.” [5]

The invitation to a life-time of honest, robust, delighted, angry, grateful and sometimes desperate conversation with God, is an invitation to relationship. And that is neither formulaic nor predictable. And yet, out of that honesty with ourselves and with God, can emerge the kind of prayer that is the blank space between the words, the waiting, and the silence. The place where communion resides. It is there that we come to know ourselves as beloved children of God. 

When we understand the purpose of prayer as relationship, then we may just find that as we ask, search and knock, the answer to our prayers is to be found in the very act of praying. 

In the name of the Trinity of Love, God in Community, Holy and One.

Amen.

[1] Robert Farrar Capon, The Parables of Grace, excerpts from pages 72-73.

[2] Robert Farrar Capon, The Parables of Grace, excerpts from pages 73-74.

[3] Eru Rerekura reporting, Te Manu Korihi News, 8.45am Thursday 25 July 2013, Radio New Zealand National. (edited)

[4] Douglas John Hall, ‘Proper 12 (Luke 11:1-13): Theological Perspective’ in Feasting on the Word, 290.

[5] Douglas John Hall, ‘Proper 12 (Luke 11:1-13): Theological Perspective’ in Feasting on the Word, 290.