I think we overlook how important these rituals are to our spiritual development. The words we use, the times we use them, they form a foundation that sets the stage for our religious imaginations, how we see the character and presence of God in our lives.
As a minister, I get asked one question more than just about any other. It’s this – “will you/can you pray for me?” Of course, my answer to that question is always yes. But…I will then ask, “what is it you want me to pray for, about?” The answer usually has something to do with health, but sometimes there are relationship concerns. Even though we belong to a United Church faith community, and if you look at our national website the prayer concerns are all social justice in focus, the prayers you ask of me are almost without exception, personal. That is, even for the most social justice orientated of our membership, where the rubber hits the road. We are made, by our Creator, for relationship, so it is no wonder our deepest concerns are personal and relational. Life is fragile, short, and complicated (messy), so our most intimate spiritual thoughts tend to focus on our health and the health of our relationships.
Which brings us to John 17, one of the most dense and challenging pieces of scripture there is. There is no way that I’m going to attempt to uncover all the nuances of this chapter today. BUT – what I hope to do is highlight a few parts of this final prayer of Jesus that have spoken to me for many years and continue to speak to me today. It’s important to understand a little about the context of this prayer that we hear Jesus offer. The 17th Chapter of John takes place in Jerusalem shortly before Jesus’ crucifixion. Many believe it is probably in the same room where the Last Supper was held. Jesus last prayer in the other gospels takes place in the garden of Gethsemane with Jesus being alone. In John 17 Jesus is not alone and this is not a private time of prayer. This prayer was written not only so followers of Jesus centuries later could read it, but also so followers like us could hear it again and again just like the first time Jesus offered it in the presence of his disciples.
So who is Jesus praying for? John 17:6-8 “I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; for the words you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me.” In the first section of this prayer, Jesus is offering prayer for his own mission and ministry in the world and thanksgiving for how his relationship with God has shaped this mission. Sometimes, in a prayer, especially a public one, I feel I need to check all the boxes, make it comprehensive, explain everything, cover everything. And yet, at the same time, if I am remembering the prayers that resonate with others the most, I know there is intimacy and relationship at the core of those words.
For Jesus, prayer is a gift. And the best part of this gift is relationship with God and the others God gives to us. No one specific prayer formula is going to work for everyone in growing their relationship with God and others. Our prayer life is not dependent upon the techniques we use when we pray. I have found, for me, it is best in private and public prayers, to think about the gratitude I feel for the gift of my life, others’ lives, how God gives this to us, and why. Relationships, community, mission. All these words speak to me, speak to others.
John 17:14-19 I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth. As many of you know, my favorite quote comes from fiction writer Flannery O’Connor, who took the Gospel of John and played with one of its most iconic verses, “You shall the know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd.” The truth, in John’s Gospel, focuses deeply on agape love, self-giving love, a love where friends lay down their life for one another. On Mother’s Day this love resonates. But if we allow ourselves to see others, another John sensibility, as God’s children, then laying down our lives for one another, strikes at the heart of our self-understanding. It's why John 15 is frequently used for Remembrance Day service, the death of firefighters and police officers, the idea someone would lay down her/his/their life for someone they did not know by name, hits us hard, moves us, inspires. This prayer, by Jesus, for us, is a reminder the truth both sets us free and makes us odd in the world’s eyes. The world sees us as separate, focuses on the me, not the we. Being sanctified in the truth, makes us attuned to the Spirit, opens us up to our relationship, through God the Creator, to all God’s children.
German theologian Karl Rahner wrote an essay in the 1960’s called “Pray Daily Life!” Rahner’s words connect our own prayer life with Jesus’ prayer life. Rahner wrote “Everyday life becomes in itself is prayer. All our interests are unified and exalted by the love of God; our scattered offerings are given a specific direction toward God; our external life becomes the expression of our love of God. Thus our life takes on a new meaning in the light of our eternal destiny. Make everyday life your prayer.”
I should add John consistently uses “Father” language for God, especially in John 17, so it is good to be mindful that this terminology is used to indicate a close, familial relationship and not as a gendered identity. It comes closer to functioning as John’s version of the Lord’s Prayer with the address to the “Father” and his “name” (verse 11) and the request for protection from the evil one (verse 15). Some Biblical scholars even suggest a better English translation is “Daddy”. For our purposes, in the context of prayer, I think it helps us see prayer as intimate, personal, a sense of being known.
Jesus is troubled, full of pain at the prospect of saying goodbye to his friends, and the ardor of his words and gestures is the ardor of a lover. Even as he knows that his life on earth is drawing to a close, he yearns to remain in communion with his beloved. I am reminded this prayer came to us in a room, at a table, breaking bread, with his closest friends. It is in the spirit of intimacy the prayer is offered…
Why do some of our prayers seem to go unanswered. I remember asking my elders to explain these discrepancies. They gave me two answers: 1) You need to pray with more faith, and 2) Sometimes God's answer is no. Both answers struck me then — and strike me now — as painfully inadequate. Today, I live along the borders of a more complicated world. I have friends and family members who pray for parking spots, lost house keys, sports victories, and admissions for their children to medical school. But I also have friends who avoid intercessory prayer on principle, convinced that the true purpose of prayer has nothing to do with asking God "for stuff." In their words: "God is God. Not Santa Claus."
When is an "answer to prayer" really an answer? When is it coincidence? Randomness? The cost of our free will — a cost God daily chooses to endure — is that we can't say for sure. Not in this lifetime. So why do we pray? For me, one answer is that I pray because I am compelled to do so. Something in me cries out for engagement, relationship, attentiveness, and worship. I pray because my soul yearns for connection with an Other who is God, and that connection is best forged in prayer. With words, without words, through laughter, through tears, in hope, and in despair, prayer holds open the possibility that I am not alone, and that this broken world isn't alone, either. I pray, as C.S Lewis writes, "because I can't help myself." Because "the need flows out of me all the time — waking and sleeping."
That’s one answer. But maybe this week’s Gospel reading offers me another one: I pray because Jesus did. I pray because I love, and prayer is what lovers do. We ask. We stretch out with our requests and intercessions. We yearn with our prayers towards communion with the Source of all love, so that our human loves might be secured, strengthened, sustained, and sanctified. I ask because Jesus asked. Asking is the last thing he did before his arrest. The last tender memory he gave his friends. He didn’t awe them with a grand finale of miracles. Neither did he contemplate their futures and despair. He looked to heaven with a trembling heart, surrendered his cherished ones to God. Jesus asked because he loved. May we do likewise.
When you pray for others, over a bedside, an in-home visit, in a hospital waiting room, don’t underestimate what it feels like for that person to hear it, to experience it. And likewise, when people want to pray for you, take them up on the offer. But maybe this week, when such prayers come along, let them happen. It’s not that you deserve it. It’s not that you’ve earned it. It’s not that you will ask for it. It’s that perhaps someone sensed you needed it. And maybe you do. And that is so okay. Amen.
