Sunday, July 28, 2013

God Already Knows (Proper 12C)

 

God Already Knows
Homily delivered the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 12; Year C RCL)
The Rev. Dr. Anthony Hutchinson
28 July 2013; 8:00 a.m. Said and 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass
Parish Church of Trinity, Ashland (Oregon)
Readings: Genesis 18:20-32; Psalm 138; Colossians 2:6-15; Luke 10:25-37

God, take away our hearts of stone
 and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.


When I was ten years old, in fifth grade, I had my first male schoolteacher.   Mr. Franklin, an athletic and handsome 20-something, always wore a short-sleeved white dress shirt and skinny black tie to class.  Just out of teacher’s college, he had a sharp wit, demanded a lot of us.  He wore dark sunglasses when he stood as playground monitor.  My friend Jeff’s mom—in my small conservative town she was the rare Democrat—said that Mr. Franklin was part of the new direction of the whole country, with our young new president John Kennedy and his wife Jackie.  Mr. Franklin was what we were just then learning to call “cool.”

One day in November, the principal came into the classroom and asked to have a word with him outside.  He returned pale and visibly shaken and asked us to put our books away:  “I have just been told that the President has been shot in Texas.  The radio says they have taken him to a hospital, but not how badly injured he is.  I think it would be a good time to have a few minutes of silence for him, his family, and our country.”

The minutes that followed were surreal.  All of us students had known each other from kindergarten, but only as roles:  as class brains or dummies, teacher’s pets or problem kids, playground pals or rivals.  We who went to churches together knew each other in those same roles only in a different setting. 



 I had learned in Sunday School to pray free form—address God, say what you’re thankful for, and then say what you want God to do.   Remember to use “thee” and “thou” instead of “you” to show reverence.  Close “in the name of Jesus Christ” and say “amen.”  I silently asked God to keep John F. Kennedy alive and then give him full recovery.  I opened my eyes and looked around me at the strangely silent classroom.

Some looked bored and puzzled.  Some looked stunned.  But most were praying.  One girl fervently held her hands in a little church, looked up with wide eyes at the ceiling, and muttered something obviously memorized.  She crossed herself.    Mr. Franklin sat at the head of the class, with one hand covering his face, as if to force his eyes shut with fingers and block out the whole evil world.  His lips moved silently.  

After a while, he left the classroom and came back with word that the President was dead.  That evening, my father said that the shot had killed the President instantly. 

I had always been taught that God heard and answered prayers.  Sunday School and home told me that if we just had enough faith when we asked for something in prayer, God would give it to us.  

But not only had God not given us what we had prayed for so fervently, all those prayers seemed kind of silly because the President was already dead at the time we offered them.  



That experience left me with a different, less confident, view of prayer.  It also gave me a very changed view of my classmates and my teacher.  In those few minutes I had glimpsed them as people, in all their rich complexity and depth, much more complicated than the various roles they each played.
 

Today’s first lesson Abraham prays that Sodom and Gomorrah be spared a horrible fate.  He is trying to save his nephew Lot and his family, who live there.  He bargains with God, shamelessly haggles over how few righteous would be a minimum threshold to spare the cities.   He flatters and cajoles with Asian honorifics ("now don't be angry with this, but ...," "don't think your humble servant here is being presumptuous to say...," etc.)    In the end, God warns Lot and his family to flee before the burning sulfur starts falling.  In the Book of Exodus, Moses likewise bargains with God to save the children of Israel from destruction (Exod. 32). 

In both stories, God might seem to be an angry, petulant, ego-maniac who needs to be argued with, to be reminded to do the right thing, be merciful and true to his promises.  But this is a misreading.   The authors and editors know very well that God is better than that.  These scenes are a bold way of showing who God actually is—in both, the prophet appeals to what he knows as God’s most basic character:  merciful, faithful, and just.  The stories are thus saying that God is not petty, vain, and selfish.    


The parable of a bothersome friend at the door at midnight who just won’t take no for an answer in today’s Gospel (Luke 11:5-8) provokes a similar misunderstanding.   You’ve missed the story’s point if you think that God is like the sleepy householder, who can’t be bothered.  The point of comparison is the chutzpah and persistence of the guy knocking on the door. “Go ahead—bother God and keep bothering him,” says Jesus, not because God is annoyed at our prayers, but because we need to persist in prayer.

Jesus here adds another parable as if to correct any misunderstanding we might have from that first one: “If any of you have a child who asks him for a fish, will you give him a snake?  Or if he asks for an egg, you give him a scorpion?  If you, who aren’t all that perfect, know how to give your children what they need, how much more will your Heavenly Father know how to treat you?” (Luke 11:11-13)  God is better, more loving, than a typical parent, not like a sleepy householder who can’t be bothered.

When prayer doesn’t seem to deliver what we think it’s supposed to, we get disillusioned and maybe stop praying, or only go through the motions of prayer out of a sense of duty, but without any hope or faith that it matters.   But Jesus says persist like that friend at midnight



Many scriptures that say that God will give us whatever we ask in faith.   But this is a metaphor, a way of saying that God is on our side and will give us what we need, not that we will always get what we want.    Jesus’ own prayer in Gethsemane, “Let this cup of suffering pass from me,” was not granted.  The point here is that is that we persist in prayer, regardless of how things “turn out.”   In the process we are changed and our will becomes closer to God’s.  We are able to say, with Jesus, “thy will, not mine, be done.”    Through prayer we gain acceptance of what we can’t change and strength for the truly intolerable. 

When Paul says “make your desires known to God,” he is consciously using an imperfect metaphor.  Paul understands perfectly well that God already knows whatever we might tell him in prayer.  When we pray, we aren’t “letting God know” anything that he doesn’t already know.  Changing God’s knowledge or will is not what prayer is about.  The point of prayer is not about having an effect on God by telling God something he doesn’t already know.



The point of prayer is that we are the ones doing it, that prayer has an effect on us.  Like lovers who undress and reveal themselves before the act of love, though the Beloved already knows what is under the clothes, in prayer we voluntarily disclose ourselves to God, reveal ourselves with intention, even though God already knows everything in our hearts. 

Our prayers are not about changing God.  They are about changing us.   After the death of his wife Joy Davidman, C.S. Lewis was asked whether it was worth it—had any of the prayers offered on her behalf during her cancer changed anything.  He replied, “They changed me.”   I knew as a boy that those prayers for John F. Kennedy that day were not silly, even though the way I understood prayer at the time made them look so.  I sensed, and still believe, that they were exactly what God wanted us to do. 



Our prayers are a way we establish intimacy with God, and let God establish intimacy with us.   We often find that if we are honest about telling God our desires, some can only be put before him as confessions of sin. 

Persistence in prayer is not just about asking. As we pray, we learn that we need not just prayers of petition, but also ones of thanksgiving, adoration, and intercession for others.  As we persist in prayer, we often find that these other forms of prayer begin to predominate.

I was raised in a tradition that used almost exclusively free-form prayers, and looked down on set or written prayers.  I found that if I tried to persist in prayer over time, I ended up using repeated phrases of my own, and often not particularly well formed or uplifting.  In the long haul, I have found that I need both occasional free-form prayers from the heart, but also lots of repeated, written prayers handed down us from those who have gone before, the “Our Father” foremost among them.  The Psalter and the other poetic passages of the Bible we know as the Canticles form a major part of my prayer life, as does daily scripture reading.   When we promise in baptism to “continue in the Apostles’ faith and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers,” this is what we are talking about. 

I try to recite the liturgy of Morning and Evening Prayer every day, and have found that this creates a rhythm in my life that helps me grow closer to God and better serve those around me.   It makes me part of a great dialogue of prayer of the Christian Church that has been going on more than 2,000 years.   But it takes time, at least 20 minutes in the morning and 10 in the evening.  In prayer, as in so many other human endeavors, you get what you put into it. 

I challenge all of us this week to pray daily, and to put some effort and thought into it.  If Daily Morning and Evening Prayer is too much, then start small—look at “Daily Devotions for Individuals and Families” on page 137 of the Prayer Book and start there.  Or if it works better for you, use any of the great devotional prayer books that exist, whether in the Celtic, Contemplative, Wisdom, or Interfaith traditions.  All of us can revitalize our prayer life in some way.  The important thing is to set the time aside, and go ahead and bother the God who is never bothered:  just like that annoying guy in the middle of the night bothered his friend.  Let us persist in prayer. 

In the name of God,  Amen.

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