Gospel text for Sunday 28 July 2013

Luke 11:1-13     Jesus 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." He said to them, "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."                                                                                                                                                       

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; 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.

"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!"

Reflection    Can you imagine the disciples, a motley crew kicking up a cloud of dust, as they return from wherever they were while Jesus visited Martha and Mary and find Jesus “in a certain place” praying? Can you see them, some lying some sitting in the shade of a drooping tree, waiting for Jesus? Can you hear their grovelly conversation? “You never know where you are going to find him. He just wanders off and prays.” “He prays a lot.” “I wonder if he prays the formal prayers and psalms the Levites pray in the Temple?” “I don’t know. He seems spontaneous. Prays whenever he wants, where ever he is.“ “Do you suppose he prays the way John does?” “Why don’t you ask him?” 

We’ll never know which one of the disciples said to Jesus, “Lord teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” We do know several things. Jesus taught the disciples to pray a formal prayer and to directly address God. He understood the relationship between the disciples and God whom they addressed in prayer was profoundly personal, like that of a child and it’s father; a child completely dependent on her father to keep her “from times of trial,” to forgive her missteps and mistakes, to provide for her need in the present moment. There is no more need for the disciple to go on and on telling God what to do and how to do it than there is for a child to tell her father how to provide for her. 

Still, there is more than the external form and repetition of the words (which I have to admit for me sometimes can fly out of my mouth much like my eye blinks in a puff of wind).  Rather than outlining a strict regimen for saying their prayers (such as at the three times each day of Temple sacrifice) or instructing the disciples to pray in designated holy places, Jesus used two allegories or stories to describe the interior state of consciousness the disciples (and we) are to bring to our prayers; bold persistance and innocent receptivity.

We are to be bold in directly addressing God, no less so than calling on a friend at midnight and demanding help. (How would you respond if I called and asked you to bring me a loaf of bread and bottle of wine in the middle of the night?) We are to be persistent in expecting a response, and unshakable in believing that it will be good. (I would only call you if I knew I could count on your goodness and patience). At the same time we are to be innocent as children, honest and guileless, neither offending nor taking offense. (I call and ask without having an expectation for a particular outcome). Because into this state of open-hearted receptivity we receive the greatest gift, God’s own Holy Spirit, and God’s kingdom is come. 

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32        All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."  So Jesus told them this parable:

"There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, 'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands."' So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe--the best one--and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!' And they began to celebrate.

"Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.' Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, 'Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!' Then the father said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'"

Reflection       Jesus tells the story of the prodigal father and his two sons to the tax collectors, sinners, Pharisees and scribes. That includes just about everyone. The sinners and the self righteous are equally implicated. Regardless in which group you may find yourself I believe Jesus intends this story for every one of us. As the author of the First Epistle of John proclaims, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us....”(1 John 1:8) We are all sinners. We have all left home and turned away from God, and we are “dying of hunger.”

And here’s the thing. Although we have sinned, there is no need to beat ourselves up, to sling mud at ourselves and eat with the pigs. Shame and self-loathing do nothing but keep us away from God. When we change our minds and remember God’s prodigal love, we are at the starting place for reconciliation. As soon as we turn our minds (and hearts) toward God, God, like the prodigal father who is aggrieved by his son’s seperation, reaches out to us and plants the kiss of peace on our necks.

Although we may expect to be humiliated, to grovel and be punished and to make reparations, God’s prodigal love leaps ahead of us and restores our relationship with God and one another. This is reconciliation. It is not the way of the world that demands an account of our transgressions, executes judgment and requires reparation. The way of living and moving and finding our being in God is the way of being in love.

Still, something is expected of us. Our right response to God’s prodigal love is to take responsibility for our actions. And in so doing we must join St. Paul and admit, “ For the good that I would I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do.” (R0 7.19)  Changing our minds and living in love we, much as the younger son, must not only acknowledge God’s prodigal love but also admit our utter dependence upon it.