7th Sunday after Pentecost

It must be universal. Or nearly so. The art of pestering. I know that my sisters and I were skilled practitioners of the art. If there was something that we really wanted or thought we needed, it would start. Like some kind of perverse water torture. The incessant, asking, begging, and hinting. The near-constant cajoling. The non-stop pleas of “Please…  Pretty please??”

And did it ever work? Well, given the frequency with which we employed such tactics you would think that it worked like a charm. But the fact of the matter is that it didn’t. If there was anything that would turn our parents against an idea of some sort (going out to eat, getting ice cream, going to the pool), it was pestering. Now we were all fairly bright kids, so I’m not sure why it took us so long to figure out that this was a losing strategy. Maybe because our incessant begging turned into a battle of wills? I don’t know. But in any case, I don’t know that it ever worked. And it would drive my parents crazy. Which probably explains why it never worked.

They say that the older you get, the more you become your own parents. And it’s true. Because once our kids were of age to begin pestering (and it doesn’t take long!), my reaction to pestering is pretty much the same as my parents’. If you want to guarantee that I’m not going to agree to something, start pestering.

So why do I bring this up this morning? Well, because God is no different. “Well hold on, there, Pastor”, you’re probably saying to yourself, “doesn’t Jesus tell us that we need to be persistent in our prayer?” Why do we think that God should be any different? Well, sure there’s the fact that God is God. But besides that, I mean. Part of the problem is the popular understanding of what constitutes effective prayer. There’s this popular understanding that for prayer to be effective, it needs to be persistent. Maybe we interpret that to mean that persistence is a sign of sincerity. I know plenty of people who pray daily that they might win the lottery. I’m sure they’re quite sincere. And they’re certainly persistent. The other mentality that arises is that we can somehow tip the celestial scales in our favor if we just pile up enough prayer on our side. The problem with this attitude is that it devolves quickly into works righteousness. “If I pray enough, God will bless me”.

So, where does this come from? Well, it comes from today’s gospel lesson and a historic mistranslation of the text that has been handed down from generation to generation. Of the 23 English-language translations that I checked, only 2 or 3 actually get it right. “It” is in verse eight in today’s gospel lesson. “It” is the Greek word “anaideia”, which is translated as “persistence” or some variation thereof in the vast majority of texts, giving us what has become the traditional understanding of Luke Chapter 11, verse 8: “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.”

And yet the word “anaideia” is more properly translated as “boldness; audacity; or shamelessness, borne of familiarity”. The validity of this translation is supported by the parable that Jesus tells. 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.' Where is the persistence that the traditional translation of verse 8 suggests? It’s not there. There is only one knock at the door. There is only one plea for bread.

On a cold December night in 2004, I woke up to a frantic knock at our front door at 12:30 AM. An autistic boy had gone missing. Of course, I was willing to check in the garage and of course I was willing to let the search and rescue people check the back yard. That’s the kind of request that Jesus is talking about here. It’s like when a friend calls you in a panic and asks if you can watch his three-year-old while he takes his mother to the hospital. It’s you’re going next door when you see the ambulance parked outside, lights flashing, asking a distraught neighbor if there’s anything you can do to help. It might seem as though that last example is misplaced, but it’s not. Because it’s important to remember what Jesus emphasizes in prayer, especially in the Gospel of Luke.

The purpose of prayer is not necessarily to get something.  The purpose of prayer is relationship. I’ve always said (and probably always will say) that the primary work of Jesus, during his earthly ministry was not to perform miracles. Nor was it to wow the crowds with verbal and theological gymnastics, whilst sparring with the Pharisees. The primary work of Jesus was drawing people into relationship with God by first drawing them into relationship with himself.

Prayer is all about the audacity of our relationship with God. We are talking about God, here, after all. What could be more audacious than approaching and speaking directly with God? What could be more audacious than to assume that God, creator of all that is, is even remotely interested in our lives. “Blessed are you O God, King of the Universe…” What could be more audacious than to assume that the King of the Universe wants to hear what we’ve got to say? What could be more audacious than to assume that The Supreme Being, Creator of all that has been, is, and ever shall be, would be interested in providing for our most basic needs. What could be more audacious than addressing God as “Daddy?”

And yet that’s precisely how Jesus instructs his disciples. They’re told to address God as Abba, the same way a young child would address his or her father: “Daddy” or “Papa” On the other hand, what could be more audacious than acknowledging in prayer that God, does indeed, care about us to such a degree that our most basic needs are of the highest priority. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our sins.

Jesus’ further reflections on prayer, again, have entered the popular understanding as an admonition to persistence, or even pestering. Ask, search, knock. We understand it as “ask, and keep asking; search, and keep searching; knock, and keep knocking. But if we recognize that Jesus’ desire, first and foremost, was to draw us into relationship with God, we quickly realize that these words are an invitation to trust. Ask, search, and knock in the audacious confidence that you will receive what you ask. 

Of course, there’s no one among us who would give a snake or a scorpion to a child. So how then, Jesus implies, can we not trust that God as divine parent will give us all that we need, including and especially the Holy Spirit?

In her book, Traveling Mercies Anne Lamott writes that our two best prayers are, "help me, help me, help me" and "thank you, thank you, thank you" (p. 82). Even if we refuse to acknowledge it, God knows us more intimately than any lover, confidant, or parent ever could. If we cannot have the audacity to admit our utter and complete helplessness before God, then to whom can we turn? God already knows who we are: our strengths and our weakness, our triumphs, and our shortcomings.

The disciples said to Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray.” So, what did Jesus teach his disciples about prayer? First: The Lord’s Prayer is pretty simple. After asking that we act in a way to keep God’s name holy and live the kingdom life on earth, Jesus’ prayer covers sustenance in the form of daily bread; relationships in the form of forgiveness; and safety, that is, delivering us from evil. Those are the basics, and Jesus restricts himself to these essentials. In other words, prayer doesn’t have to be complex to be faithful

Second: Faithful prayer is honest. Jesus’ parable invites us to imagine that, like a man confident of his neighbor’s hospitality, we should ask for whatever we need. That means that prayer isn’t about saying the right words or being particularly eloquent or “religious”. It’s about saying what’s on our heart in our own words.

Third: Prayer is based on trust. Jesus promises that just as we desire to give those whom we love good things, God wants to give us every good gift even more. Because we trust this is true, we pray. And that’s probably one of the most difficult parts of prayer, because we often see prayers go unanswered. But we still trust that God is listening, and we continue to pray because we believe God loves us and all the world.

So: prayer is simple, honest, and offered in trust. That’s something each of us can do. Prayer doesn’t have to be good, just simple, honest, and trusting.

God wants us to pray. God is listening. It’s that God who meets us in the darkest, hardest, most painful moments of our lives. It’s that God who knows pain and suffering, fear and loss firsthand. It’s that God who, in Jesus, took on our life and our lot and died so that we might know there is no where we can go that Christ hasn't already gone, and that there is nothing we can do -- or have done to us -- that God cannot love and forgive, redeem and save.

What makes prayer hard is that we want so very much – and so very understandably – to know how it works. We want to understand prayer as a mechanism, as a formula, as something we can practice and perhaps master. But beneath that very mechanical question of "how", breathes the relational question of "who?" To whom are we praying? We are praying to the God who shamelessly loves us like a parent, but even more than we can ever imagine loving our own children. So that we, in turn, can boldly bring our questions and convictions, our hopes and fears to the One who loves us deeply, passionately, shamelessly. 

AMEN