Luke
11:1-13
1 He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of
his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his
disciples." 2 He said to them, "When you pray, say: Father, hallowed
be your name. Your kingdom come. 3 Give us each day our daily bread. 4 And
forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do
not bring us to the time of trial." 5 And he said to them, "Suppose
one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him,
"Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; 6 for a friend of mine has
arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' 7 And he answers from within,
"Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are
with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' 8 I tell you, even
though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at
least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.
9 "So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will
find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 10 For everyone who asks
receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the
door will be opened. 11 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a
fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? 12 Or if the child asks for an egg,
will give a scorpion? 13 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts
to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit
to those who ask him!"
Who taught you how to pray? If I really think about it,
I don’t think anyone taught me how (and I don’t mean that in a way that sounds
self-sufficient or braggy). You see, like most of you, I grew up in the “Bible
Belt,” in a culture where we pray before football games, before stock car
races, before we eat our McNuggets, and sometimes even before we get a haircut.
I grew up watching people all around me pray, bowing their heads, closing their
eyes, some of them raising their hands. I listened as some of them prayed
long-winded prayers, asking God to bless every grain of rice in the bowl and
every pea in the pot. I listened as some folks slipped into the gilded language
of Elizabethan English (most often mixing up their “thee’s” and “thou’s”). I even
heard a few folks pray in tongues. I’ve listened as folks prayed earnestly,
searching for words in times of grief and confusion, and I’ve listened to folks
pray in such ways that it seemed to me they were praying because they liked the
sound of their own voices. I especially like to hear people, congregations
praying in unison; the sound of joined voices praying with one another moves
something within my spirit. But no one ever really taught me how to pray.
Sure, there were spiritual formation groups, retreats,
and classes I took throughout college and seminary where I was shown new and
different ways to pray. I was shown how to do what is called “centering
prayer,” where one tries to calm all of the heart and mind’s distractions in
order to focus wholly on Christ. I was told about ancient and traditional
prayers of the Church, written prayers of which I was initially skeptical due
to my coming to faith in a relatively conservative, rural, Baptist congregation,
where we were a bit suspicious of all things written down and planned. The
words of such prayers helped to shape my prayers, helping me to be more
intentional about that which I prayed. Even now, I tend to use a prayer book
for my daily prayers to help shape and focus my prayer time. But still, no one
ever really taught me how to
pray, you know, the mechanics of the whole things, the actual words and things
I’m supposed to say when I pray. Did anyone teach you how to pray?
Of course, in our text this morning, the disciples
don’t ask Jesus to teach them to pray as if they’ve never prayed before or as
if they’re unfamiliar with the very notion of prayer. Jesus’ disciples were
Jews, raised in the traditions and customs of ancient Judaism—including prayer.
They would have memorized certain prayers and heard many of the same prayers
repeated throughout the day. They would have been more than a little familiar
with the great prayers found in the Psalms and the ritual prayers that
accompanied the cultic practices of the temple. So when they come to Jesus in verse one of our text this morning
asking "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples,” it
is not because they are completely clueless about what it means to pray;
there’s something more to it.
You see, they wanted Jesus to teach them to pray “as
John taught his disciples.” Now, that doesn’t mean that John taught his
disciples some new-fangled way to pray involving secret yoga poses or magic
words. No, what they mean is that John taught his disciples how to pray
specifically for the movement John was hoping to see come about. He taught his
disciples to pray in such a way that united them as a body of John-followers.
Think about it like this: John taught his disciples how to pray for those
things which he hoped his movement would accomplish, things like the revelation
of the Messiah and the repentance and baptism of the masses. John’s teachings
on prayer to his disciples would have shaped the way they understood God and
the way they understood the mission John saw himself undertaking. This is no different
with Jesus and his disciples, and this is why Jesus’ disciples come asking for
him to teach them how to pray: they want to be united in their prayers, united
in the way they understood God and the mission to which Jesus was calling them.
They wanted to focus their prayers on that which defined the movement.
With that in mind, Jesus’ response, his teachings on
prayer, aren’t all that earth-shaking—at least not to us…at first. Luke gives
us an abbreviated (or perhaps original[1]) version of what we traditionally
call “The Lord’s Prayer” from Matthew in verse
2-4: "When you pray, say: 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 indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of
trial." Now, at first reading, at first hearing, this seems like a
straightforward, business-as-usual, sort of prayer, but when we take a closer
look at what Jesus is teaching his disciples (what Jesus is teaching us) about prayer we can’t help
but notice some major points of understanding when it comes to how Jesus would
have us understand God and the practice of prayer.
First, Jesus tells his disciples to address God as
“Father” (pater in Greek; abba in Hebrew/Aramaic). Jesus, in
teaching his disciples to address God as “Father,” is showing us that God is one
with whom we live in relationship. God is not an aloof deity, occupying a
throne in some cloud-covered temple behind the black curtain of the cosmos. God
is not to be addressed as if we’re writing a letter to a senator or the
president of a university. God is close, relational, familiar. God is like our
father, our parent, our friend, one with whom we can share our concerns, our
joys, our very lives. While the term “Father” itself may be problematic for
some (especially for those who have had terrible, abusive fathers), Jesus’
point is that God is relational, loving, close enough for us to boldly share
our hearts and our lives with God through prayer.
Jesus also reminds us that God is
more than just a friend with who we can have a nice conversation, that God is
more than an invisible therapist to whom we can “spill our guts.” God is God,
the Holy other, the One whose name is righteous. That is why Jesus is quick to
remind us in his exemplary prayer to say, “hallowed be your name.” It reminds us that the God to whom we pray is in fact
the God of creation, the God of unending holiness, of infinite justice, of
eternal love, and unfailing power. This God, who is as close to us as a loving,
nurturing parent, with whom we live in relationship, is the same God with the
power to create the universe, to speak the world in to being, to calm the
storm, and bring order out of chaos. This familiar, loving, all-powerful God is
the God to whom we pray, and Jesus reminds us of that with the first words of
his teachings about prayer.
He goes on to say that we ought to pray, “Your
kingdom come,” that the first petition we ought to make to God is for
God’s kingdom and all of its reality to come about. So often we rush to ask God
for those things we want, for those things we need, for those situations we
want resolved right now. Here, however, we listen as Christ reminds us that the
first thing any of us should want, the primary desire of the disciple’s heart
is the arrival of God’s kingdom. I think that means far more than just leading
our list of prayer requests with the arrival of God’s kingdom. I believe that
means that the bringing of God’s kingdom ought to be at the forefront of our
prayers and our actions, that we ought to the be
about the business of bringing God’s kingdom to reality on earth as it is in
heaven by doing the work Christ has called us to in loving God and loving each
other.
“Give us each day our daily bread” is
more than a petition for provision; it is a reminder to all of us (especially
those of us in positions of privilege and relative wealth) that all that we
have comes from something outside of us, that ultimately, everything we have,
all that we need comes from God. I’m reminded of a story a seminary professor
told of praying for his dinner one evening. He found himself not only thanking
God for the bread on his table, but for the grain that made the bread, for the
farmer who grew it, for the baker who baked it, for the store that sold it, for
the driver who delivered it…on and on he went until he realized that there was
nothing he owned that didn’t depend on a vast web of people and circumstances
(like weather) to bring it to him. If we ought to first pray for God’s kingdom
to come, we ought to then take the time to remember from where all that we have
truly comes.
The third petition of Jesus’ exemplary prayer is: “And
forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.”
Asking God for forgiveness of sins is nothing new, yet I can’t help but notice
the second half of this petition: “for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted
to us.” Now, that’s a bit different from the version I learned from
Matthew’s gospel (“Forgive us…as
we forgive those…”). Our forgiveness of others is implied here; it’s not
conditional, nor does it follow after
God’s forgiveness. Our forgiveness of others is a natural outpouring from God’s
forgiveness to us.
The final petition of the
disciples’ prayer is: “And do not bring us to the time of trial.” This is a petition for God
to stay with the disciples, to not abandon them when the way is trying and hope
seems lost. It is a prayer for God to be present enough to deliver them from
any sort of test, but we know that Jesus understands temptation, testing, and
that such a prayer may be answered not by the avoidance of such trials, but by
God’s presence with us in the midst of them.
Jesus teaches his disciples to pray using this
exemplary prayer, and then he rolls into a parable about a man who has some
unexpected company at midnight, so he turns to a neighbor for some help. Jesus
says in verses 5-8: "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight
and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine
has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he answers from within,
‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with
me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' I tell you, even though he
will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least
because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.”
Now, when I have heard this parable explained in the past it has usually been
along the lines of something like, “if you’re persistent in your prayers,
daily, constantly bringing your concerns before God, God will eventually answer
them” (or something like that). Honestly, that always bothered me a little bit;
I mean, the notion that we would have to constantly, repetitively, pester God
with our concerns until God was forced to answer our prayers just so we’d leave
God alone. But that sort of interpretation is based upon that one word in verse 8 being translated as “persistence.”
The word there in Greek is
actually anaideia and is better
translated as “shamelessness” or “boldness”[2] and that sheds a different
light on this parable from Jesus, especially given his words following the
parable and the previous exemplary prayer we’ve already examined.
You see, Jesus is not holding up to us a parable about
a man who persistently nagged his neighbor at midnight until he provided bread
for his guests—in fact, the parable never says anything of the sort. Instead,
we need a little cultural understanding about hospitality in the first century.
You see, you and I live in the American South, and we may think we have the
market cornered on hospitality, but in the first century, in a culture based
highly upon honor and shame, hospitality was a high, cultural expectation—even
at midnight. So, when a guest arrives at midnight (as was likely to happen in a
day before travel by car and airplane was so easily scheduled) one was expected
to provide bread (three loaves was customary[3]). So, when this man has no
bread (and there’s no 24-hour Super Walmart) he goes to a neighbor, hoping to
avoid the embarrassment of not being hospitable. It’s midnight; it’s a bold,
shameless move to go and wake his neighbor, to trust that his neighbor will
also be bold and want to avoid the shame of not being hospitable. You see, the
point of the parable is not to be a nagging person when it comes to praying,
but to be bold enough to approach God with your concerns, with your needs.
Such a point is taken further by Jesus’ words following
the parable in verse 9-13: “So I say to you, Ask, and it
will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be
opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches
finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone
among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a
fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who
are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the
heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"
When the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray,
Jesus teaches them to pray in such a way that boldly, shameless addresses God
as a familiar, relational, holy deity who provides for our every need, walks
with us through the trials of life, so that we may boldly bring about God’s
kingdom on earth. We pray to a God who knows what we need far better than we
can ever know, who provides for us in ways we may never fully appreciate, a God
who is so close to us we can call on him like a parent. So, when we pray, we
ought not to pray timidly, as if our prayers are not important, as if our
concerns are little more than a bother to God. When we pray, we ought to bring
our prayers shamelessly to God—our petitions, concerns, and confessions—for God
desires to have such a relationship with us. When we pray—whether together as a
congregation in this sanctuary or privately in our own homes—we ought to pray as
Jesus taught us to pray: recognizing God as one who longs to be in relationship
with us, as the holy God of the universe, whose in-breaking kingdom should be
our utmost concern, who provides our every need and offers us the free
forgiveness of his love and grace, while walking with us, even through life’s
most trying times. May we pray as Jesus taught us to pray, with boldness, so
that we may live as Christ calls us to live, without shame or fear, so that we
may do what Christ calls us to do, to bring God’s kingdom on earth as it is in
heaven. Amen.
[1]
See commentaries on the discussion of whether or not Luke’s version preceded
Matthew’s
[2]
David Lose, “Working Preacher”
[3]
I know this is in one of the commentaries; possibly NIBC
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