Saturday, September 10, 2022

Gospel Text for Sunday 11 September 2022


 


 Matthew 6.9-13 


(Jesus said) Pray then in this way: 

Our Parent and Provider in heaven,

holy is your Name. 

May your majestic rule come.  

May your will be done,

on earth as in heaven. 

Give us this day our daily bread. 

And forgive us our debts, 

as we also forgive our debtors. 

And do not bring us to the time of trial, 

but rescue us from that which is evil.

 


Reflection       Seated in a wheelchair at a pleasant assisted-living dining room table, Veronica’s gnarled fingers fumbled with wilted playing cards. With mulish determination she labored, counting to seven then starting over, again and again and again. Remembering that Veronica had been an avid bridge player, not to mention black jack and craps aficionado, I queried, “Playing bridge Veronica?” For the first time since I sat down next to her Veronica turned toward me and from a place deep behind her empty eyes she threatened to smile then promptly resumed dealing cards. 


Various care-givers came by, initiating small talk or sharing their comments about Veronica’s declining condition. She remained nonplussed. When twenty five minutes had passed I leaned my head in front of Veronica’s and said, “Let’s pray. Our Father, who …” and with that her hazy grey eyes met mine and through a veil of tears she joined me praying the words aloud with precise lucidity. In the background I heard two care-givers adding their voices to our imprecation.  “Amen.”  A moment or a lifetime elapsed until with unfettered sincerity, the full force of her voice and unblinking eye contact Veronica announced, “I have never been so lost.” Swallowing tears I replied, “And now you are found by Our Father.” 


In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. (John 1.1) From the beginning words matter. They can harm us or heal us. Ravage us or rescue us because words matter.


The very first word of the prayer found in two of the synoptic gospels, Matthew and Luke, is “Our.” We use the word ‘our’ when we want to communicate belonging to us and one or more other persons. The implication is that we share something in common, and if we share something in common we cannot possibly be alone. 


So, when we are praying we are never praying alone. We are praying in communion with all that belongs to the interconnected web of being, which means, we are praying in communion with all that is. Our father. Our mother. Our parent and protector. Our truth. Our light. Our holiness. Our God.


Whatever name we ascribe to the all encompassing holiness that refuses a singular name, when we pray we are in deliberate communication with the holiness that permeates everyone and every thing.  Our father. Our mother. Our parent and provider. Our truth. Our light. Our holiness. Our God, manifest in all of creation guarantees the infinite variety of holiness.


I believe this is why there are multiple versions of the Our Father prayer.  Because words matter. They can point us toward holiness, or away. Words can open doors and extend invitations or seal passages and set out stumbling blocks. 


Even though we are all included in ‘our,’ not all of us have the same experience of the next word ‘father.’ For some the word father evinces protection and benevolence. For others injury or abandonment. Likewise, for some the word mother conjures care or comfort while for others coldness or antagonism loom. The words ‘parent and provider’ may evoke grace and gratitude or fear and emptiness. Still, we all belong in ‘our’ and thankfully there are many versions of the prayer that Jesus teaches the disciples and us, versions that hopefully provide open doors and invitations so that all feel welcome to participate in the holiness to which we belong.


We use the word ‘our’ to communicate belonging. The implication is this. If God is holiness and God is all and we are part of all, then we are holy and we can never really be lost.


As we face the twenty-first anniversary of the 9/11 carnage, it would be remiss if we failed to note that even though we are all holy we cannot escape evil. 


Not children in classrooms or trafficked for sex.

Not elders preyed on by mail and phone predators.

Not workers exploited by swinish bosses.

Not people caught in the combat of twenty seven ongoing wars and conflicts that vandalize the globe.  

Not housekeepers, clerks, diners or traders in the New York City 

Twin Towers.


All of these holy people cannot escape evil nor can any one of us stop it. So we pray. Our father. Our mother. Our parent and provider. Our truth. Our light. Our holiness. Our God. We pray because in our prayer we all belong and in our prayer we are restored to common holiness.


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