The Lord's Prayer

Pentecost

Proper 12C, track 2

Every single week we pray together the prayer that Jesus taught us. Our Father, who art in heaven. Every single week.

For many of us it was the first formal, structured, prayer we learned. Incorporated into our very being, the reflexive muscle memory of lips and tongue, of heart and mind.

And, in this fashion, the first version that folks learn, regardless of which version it is…becomes the “right” one!

And, the debate ensues and churches try to find a way to balance scholarship and tradition, comfort and affliction.

And so, we’ve categorized the prayer, the one we’ve come to call the “Lord’s prayer” as either “traditional” with trespasses, or contemporary with “sins”.

Here at St. Clement’s we deal with the question of which version? As reasonably as you might expect—weighting out scripture and tradition with attention to the context and reason of our community! So, assuming that most would have learned the traditional as children, we use trespasses at services where we think a large number of irregular church goers will be in attendance—Christmas and Easter for example.

We use the contemporary when the language of the liturgy makes contemporary language more consistent with the rest of the service. Liturgies from Enriching our Worship are usually paired with the contemporary version.

But sometimes, if the liturgy seems like it may feel unfamiliar, we use the traditional in order to provide an anchor for those who might otherwise feel unmoored.

But what is traditional for one, is arcane for another.  What feels like familiar and friendly language for some, can feel alienating and offensive to another.

But, all of our efforts are fundamentally grounded in our attempt to use words that best speak to the love and mercy that exists at the heart of Jesus’ teaching.

All of us, regardless of the specific words we use, are people, trying to pray. To pray with the same heart as our ancestors in the faith--our ancestors who turned towards their friends with a simple plea, “teach us to pray”.

And, the prayer is said.

“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."

We parse, inspect, and translate. We paraphrase and debate. We try, we try, to get to the heart of what matters in the form of a prayer that has taken root in so many of our hearts.

God, whose very name is holy. May your reign prevail and may we have what we need to survive. May we be forgiven, and may we forgive. And, may we live without fear of condemnation.

Mercy and love, forgiveness and need.

And we pray, out of our need and our trust in God’s goodness, forgive us…

For many of us, the most obvious variation in the various texts of the prayer is whether we petition for the forgiveness of trespasses, debts, or sins. We heard all three variations in our scripture today. Trespasses in the letter to the Colossians. Debts and sins in the Gospel.

So technically, I guess that means we’re all right!

Laughter aside…

Trespasses, debts, sins—each has its own unique connotation. Connotations, that have changed with time and context.

Trespasses—this take implies the overstepping of boundaries. And, I love to think about how easy it is to overstep unintentionally—to miss the sign and go too far.

Debts—feels painfully relevant in our day and age. As we consider the economic enslavement, enslavement of self and others, that keeps us from the freedom to which we’ve been called.

Sins—a word coopted and misunderstood by many. I hear it as anything that keeps us from being the people that God has called us to be—any action, willful or accidental, that violates creation or any of God’s created people.

But, whether we speak of trespass, debts, or sins—we petition for forgiveness and we forgive.

We forgive, so that we may live.

And, thus, the disciples learned to pray.

I wonder, I wonder who it was that taught you to pray?

(Pause)

Who took the time--at table or bed, in church or at home, in fear and hope, in joy and sorrow—to teach you to pray?

(Pause)

In this there is no right way or wrong. The choice of words ceases to matter in the face of the love that connects us and brings us near.

The prayers that remind us who we are, and to whom we belong as beloved children of God.  These are the prayers that bring us nearer to God by drawing us closer to each other.

We draw close.

We become near.

This is not about the words, but about the connections we make.

Because in these connections our prayers can transform the world.

When we pray, we come near, when we come near we can see and hear the pain, when we see and hear the pain, we are moved to action…

Which brings us to Abraham’s petition of God.

For the sake of these, these I love. Do not destroy.

For the sake of these, these for whom I pray.

Protect.

For the sake of these--these on our hearts and minds.

These I’ve met, these I cannot hope to know.

Petition, speak, proclaim, do.

The words of our hearts, leading to the work of our hands.

A couple of weeks ago, George, our deacon preached a sermon that brought us to tears. Speaking of children and families, asylum seekers and allies, cruelty and care.

And, George’s words brought us closer. Our prayers spoke to the pain. And, our actions, offered us comfort.

Money raised for the legal defense of children and families.

Diapers and denim. Washcloths and wipes. Sent to the Southern Border—material comfort for those without material goods.

Come close. Lean in.

Who taught you to pray?

In the middle of the night.

Confronted with hunger.

Hunger of body, of mind, of spirit.

Who taught you to pray?

Amen.