IN LUKE 11.1-13, Jesus teaches his disciples the way to pray. Yet, even before they ask him to show them, he has already begun his teaching: by showing them. So his guidance on the way to pray begins with practising what he preaches — he who, as Matthew reminds us (23.10), is the one true teacher.
Inspired by this Gospel, we, too, can say to Jesus, “Lord, teach us to wish.” Prayer, in any case, is something that each Christian must learn. As a Church, we should not at all times good at teaching people the way to pray; so, this text ought to be treasured as a pearl of great price.
Imitation is the primary way by which we learn to wish together, whether through the instance of Jesus (as here) or that of other Christians. Fellow-worshippers exemplify what praying looks and feels like. Then, with practice and repetition, the words of corporate prayer close the divide between private and non-private: they turn out to be personal words, springing to mind and mouth at any time when they’re needed.
Luke says that Jesus began by “praying in a certain place”. That makes it sound as if the place was rigorously chosen. But we could also translate, “in some place”, which might indicate the reverse — that the situation was irrelevant to his praying. All we are able to say obviously is that Luke doesn’t confirm beyond doubt that the situation is “special”.
Who was present? Again, Luke doesn’t say. But, given the context — teaching the way to pray — I think that the disciples were with Jesus while he prayed. If so, they might have been onlookers, not participants. Otherwise, their request for teaching on prayer is not sensible, or could be more specific (“Lord, teach us to wish higher”).
Jesus had chosen a spot to wish in: perhaps the disciples, desperate to learn from him, paid attention to the character of that place. Was it quiet? isolated? lofty? Or was it irrelevant to the instance that the Lord was offering? Then “he prayed”: one word in Greek, encapsulating a lot. Was he speaking aloud? Or was he “speaking” within the silence of his heart? Did he eschew verbal expression completely, as a substitute having fun with a moment of wordless contemplation in his Father’s presence?
Jesus starts praying, and he finishes praying. This Gospel gives no support for pious beliefs that the entire of life is a continuous prayer. Prayer, as Jesus embodies it, is an motion and a state of being, recognisable as such to those that observe it, and bounded in space and time. Because it has a starting and an end, we enter into times of prayer, knowing, as we start, that we must end them, too.
If this Lord’s prayer is our model, our exiting of prayer will occur speedily; for it is vitally transient. It shouldn’t be fuelled by scripture, or music, or enhanced by complex language. It simply expresses human faith and wish within the divine presence.
I used to be once in Lambeth Palace chapel for worship, as a part of an event. The Archbishop was present, sitting apart but in full view of everyone else. If this was to embody exemplary praying like Jesus, how uncomfortable for him, I assumed, projecting my very own imagined awkwardness at being so scrutinised. But all of us must accept some scrutiny if it helps other to learn. Jesus could have focused easily, completely, on God: we must work hard to shut out self-consciousness, in addition to more obvious distractions akin to noise, or movement, or other people’s attention.
We set Luke 11.2-4 apart, label it “the Lord’s Prayer”, and use it day by day. Embedded within the Gospel, though, it’s a prayer that the Lord prays for himself, and one which he bestows on us; so it’s our example, by imitation and gift, as much because it was to the primary disciples.
The prayer is available in two parts, in each grammar and subject-matter. It begins with the second person: “Hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come”. Then, once the Father has been honoured, it changes to the primary person, and to human needs: “Give us every day our day by day bread . . . forgive us our sins . . . don’t bring us to the time of trial.”
We honour God first. Then we tell him our needs: bread; forgiveness; to not be tested beyond our strength. He has taught us what to say. Only we are able to live it.
