Pentecost 7C 2025

THE REV. E. WAYNE ROLLINS

​Sometimes I find myself in a gathering where someone else is the host. If the
gathering includes a meal, someone will say it’s time to say grace. Everyone gets quiet,
waiting for the prayer—not the words—the pray-er, which usually means they’re
probably waiting for the professional to speak up.

Not wanting to intrude on the host, and also a bit curious about how others pray,
I stay quiet, and then that person will say a few halting words, or ask if I would offer a
prayer. Sometimes I wish they had asked, because someone has prepared a prayer so
long that the turkey gets cold and the jello salad begins to lose its shape. Admit it.
You’ve been there.

Jesus’ disciples ask him to teach them to pray. Two versions of what we call
“The Lord’s Prayer” can be found in scripture. Today we get Luke’s version; the other
is in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount. Neither of these are exactly what we use in our
liturgies, and if you’ve attended services in other denominations, you’ll hear some
differences there as well.

Some say trespasses, others say debts. The International Commission on English
in the Liturgy, formed in the renewal movement of the sixties when Roman Catholics
moved from using only Latin, came up with the words we’ve recently been saying.
This has resulted in a bit of controversy, both theological and from the “thou shalt not
change” folks. In one parish, a person objected because he said, “only God can forgive
sins.” I referred him to Peter’s first letter and to Jesus’ own words near the end of
John’s gospel. Then there’s the thought that when we say “I forgive you” it’s actually
God at work through us. Another sermon, another time.

Let’s take a look at Luke’s words, starting at the beginning. The Greek word is
pater. Father, we say, in a way sounding like a very formal, even timid approach. Jesus
isn’t that formal. And in case you haven’t noticed, he’s not timid, either. The Aramaic
word is abba, and doesn’t mean the Swedish singing group. “Papa,” he says. Our more
familiar word might be similar to what a former co-worker taught her daughters to say
when they wanted their father to grant a particular request. “Don’t use the regular
word ‘Dad.’ Instead, say ‘Daddy’ and say it like the little girl he wants you to keep
being.” And yes, they’re still married.

Imagine wanting to ask your own father something, or just wanting a
conversation. You don’t use his formal name, and you don’t approach in fear or
apprehension. You know you are loved, and that he wants only your benefit. Imagine
that, even if it wasn’t or isn’t true in real life. What you ask may not be to your benefit
1and he may deny it, but you are still loved. Prayer, after all, is not a business
transaction.

This is not two friends greeting each other, although friendship may have some
of the same qualities. This is about a more intimate relationship. Abba. Papa. Daddy.
You don’t use a name, because that name is special, or as Luke and Matthew remind us,
holy. Remember rule number 3.

I once visited a parishioner who entered the hospital due to a problem that led to
a more threatening diagnosis. She was a busy professional who worked as a lobbyist,
and the legislature was due to begin its annual session. All the things she had on her
list were named, and after listening for a bit, I reminded her that getting well needed to
be at the top of that list. “What do you need just for today?” I asked. “After all, that is
what we pray for when we say ‘give us today our daily bread.’”

She stopped and thought about it, and then began to name those who could
shoulder some of her load while she focused on treatment and recovery. That would be
important in the long run, as treatment went on, but recovery did not. Having said
that, healing did occur in a few different ways, including making sure her relationships
with friends and family were the best they could be in the time she had left. And when
a very expensive treatment was found to be ineffective and state law said it must be
discarded, she used her professional abilities to change that law so that others might
benefit from what was left, the changed law now bearing her name.

I wonder if believing, and living, those words “give us today our daily bread”
would help us in our anxious times if we said instead “give us what we need for today
and we’ll deal with tomorrow when it gets here.”

Luke pulls the old switcheroo on us when we stop to think about his words
regarding forgiveness. “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those indebted to us.” Part
of the law of Moses required that every seven years every loan, every debt, was to be
forgiven. Not after seven years had elapsed, but say, if next year was the appointed
seventh year, then the slate is wiped clean for a loan made this year just as it would be if
the debt was incurred five years ago. There would be quite a rush on mortgages and
car loans at the point of year 6.5. Of course, in today’s economy the interest rate would
be about 500%, unless the part of the law of Moses that forbids charging or receiving
interest is also remembered. There seems to be no rush to carve that one in granite and
place it on the courthouse lawn.

It’s not easy to forgive. It’s nearly impossible to forget. Consider what we could
face if the one we call Abba, Papa, our Father, remembers how long we’re able to hold a
grudge. Again, Scooby Doo. Ruh roh.

Jesus’ disciples, and indeed the writers of the Gospels, thought that the return of
Christ was imminent and that God’s reign would be established during their own
lifetime. Before that arrival, though, there would be many struggles for power and
control. By the time of Luke’s Gospel, near the end of the first century, much of this
2was taking place. Jerusalem is destroyed, its inhabitants scattered. Roman occupation
ruled with a heavy fist and iron boot, with burning crosses lighting the highways.
Those crosses weren’t just wood. The bodies of those crucified would be covered
with tar and set alight. It didn’t matter if they were still alive.
​
“Do not bring us to the time of trial” is a way of saying “save us from the evil
around us, help us to remember who, and whose we are.” In other words, help us to
not give in to the fear others use to make us capitulate to their demands. Keep us from
bowing to the god of prosperity and greed that demands we forsake those in need
among us. That takes us back to our beginning words, to the very reason why we can
pray in confidence. Abba. Papa. We converse not in fear, but with the very source of
our life, a life founded and lived in love. Because of that, we can live in love, pray in
mutual love and then, as our familiar words remind us, “walk in love as Christ loved us
and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God.”