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deliver us from evil, forgive, forgiveness, John Philip Newell, Matthew, The Lord's Prayer, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
What does one say about the prayer that Jesus himself taught that has lasted and been learned universally since? I don’t even remember learning the Lord’s Prayer – the Our Father. It has just always been a part of me, albeit not always followed to the letter. It seems sometimes that the most difficult part is the line that says, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive…”
I noticed this morning that the gospel didn’t end with the hope of being delivered from evil. There was an addendum of sorts (MT 5:15) that puts a fine point on the forgiveness issue, as if Jesus is saying, “Did you get that? Did you hear what I said? Let me be really clear about this.” It seems that if we don’t forgive others, God will perhaps withhold forgiveness from us. (If you forgive others their transgressions, your Heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your transgressions.) That was rather astonishing to me, given my perception of God’s love and grace. It struck me this morning as a deeper way to live the gospel – a sure way to share in bringing light to the world.
I had decided that most likely everyone who reads what I write would find those thoughts rather overstated, like something that we already knew and wouldn’t find it necessary to be reminded of…so I picked up John Philip Newell’s book, Praying with the Earth, in search of something more thought provoking. I found the prayer for Thursday morning (today) to say the following:
We wake to the forgiveness of a new day. We wake to the freedom to begin again. We wake to the mercy of the sun’s redeeming light, always new, always gift, always blessing. We wake to the forgiveness this new day. (p. 34)
Why am I not surprised? From the shock of thinking that I won’t be forgiven if I fail to forgive sometimes, I find myself reassured that I can always start over – every day – to try again. That doesn’t let me off the hook but it certainly helps me to forgive myself for my failure – which then gives the impetus to try again. So God is still the God who forgives me but that forgiveness is not a free pass to heaven. I am responsible to live always from a heart steeped in forgiveness of others as my very own self. Really and truly…every time.
As is often the case, I woke up today with song lyrics in my head. This time it was a familiar text from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, chosen by countless people for a wedding reading. You know it too, I’ll wager. Love is patient, love is kind, love is ready to forgive, sings Jeannie Cotter with David Haas ready to jump in as the lyrics veer off a bit from Paul. The last line of the chorus summarizes the message beautifully, however, when both sing that in love we choose to live. 
Sometimes it seems too difficult to tell “the whole truth and nothing but the truth” when such speaking will reveal a fault or failing about ourselves. It seems much easier to obfuscate – a great word that means to obscure, blur or overcomplicate things so we don’t look so bad in the eyes of other people. The difficulty with this practice is that it doesn’t make us feel better because we have hidden our true self; rather we feel worse. The irony is that many times the failure we’re trying to cover up is so minor that we are the only ones who would judge it harshly if it were known. Everyone else would easily forgive the imperfection.
The gospel in today’s lectionary is probably the most commonly known prayer in Christianity: The Lord’s Prayer, also known as The Our Father. The text is found in two of the four canonical gospels, Matthew (6:9-13) and Luke (11:2-4). Most of us know it as it comes from Matthew’s version, appearing in the middle of the Sermon on the Mount. Reading Luke this morning made me think that his version might have been easier to learn for children who had trouble memorizing prayers; it’s very succinct and yet seems to cover all the requisite items for our living. It comes in Luke’s gospel as the response of Jesus when he himself was praying and one of his disciples asked him to teach them to pray. Luke reports him telling them: “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed (holy) be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread and forgive our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not subject us to the final test.” Period – the end.
I remember my sister saying once long ago during a visit to our motherhouse that you could tell you were in a convent because there were no mirrors anywhere! I suppose that, if often true, that had two purposes: 1. to keep the Sisters from the vanity of wasting time gazing at themselves, and 2. since there was no hair or make-up to be concerned about because our habits covered almost every inch of the body and getting dressed was a quick, rote exercise. Now, because we do not have the “luxury” of such a simple and universal couture, mirrors are a part of household furnishing in most religious houses.
The prayer we know as “The Lord’s Prayer” or the “Our Father” can be found in two of the four canonical gospels – Matthew and Luke – and, although translations vary, the wording of the two is virtually the same. What differs are the verses that follow. Luke, chapter 11, gives an example of what Jesus meant by telling a story. Today we have Matthew’s version which tells people how they are to act when doing spiritual practice – not looking gloomy and neglecting their appearance so people know they are fasting, etc. (That always makes me smile as I know how easy it is to moan to let others know when I am in pain from some small injury or distress…). I noticed something in between Matthew’s directives this morning, however, that surprised me and made me wonder if I will ever have a new thought that doesn’t touch on our relationships in today’s world situation. (See the past few entries of this blog.)
Not having any inspiration this morning – nor even cogent thoughts for that matter, I have been searching the words of Macrina Wiederkehr for an expression that would mirror how I’m feeling. Since I am unable to recognize myself in anything I read, I choose simply to offer her prayer that begins: There are mornings when I simply sit in silence trying to remember some of the things that rise in me. Her list is challenging but maybe if I focus on even one of the elements, it will jump-start my motivation for the day. May this day be a blessing for each of us and all of us together as we rise to the call of the Spirit.
During the season of Lent it is not unusual to see part or all of Psalm 51 show up as the response to the first reading in our lectionary. It is the season when repentance for our faults is traditionally front and center and God’s mercy is a constant call. Psalm 51 is uniquely suited to those themes and appears again today for our consideration.
One of the most popular and heartfelt “holy songs” of the early 1970’s, written at Weston Priory, Vermont in the wake of the Second Vatican Council, was based on the Book of the prophet Hosea. The haunting melody drew us in with the monks speaking for God, singing, Come back to me with all your heart. Don’t let fear keep us apart…Long have I waited for your coming home to me and living deeply our new life. There is a circle dance that we do now in wisdom schools that similarly calls us as we walk while singing: Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul…