17th Sunday in Ordinary Time – C
Luke 11:1-13
This Sunday’s Readings
First Reading
Genesis 18:20-32
Abraham pleads with God to save the innocent people of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 138:1-3,6-8
Lord, on the day I cried for help, you answered me.
Second Reading
Colossians 2:12-14
You were buried with Christ in Baptism and also raised with him.
Gospel Reading
Luke 11:1-13
Jesus teaches the disciples about prayer.
1 When Jesus had finished praying, one of his disciples said to him,
“Lord, teach us to pray, just as John taught his followers to pray.”
2 So Jesus told them, “Pray in this way:
‘Father, help us to honor your name.
Come and set up your kingdom.
3 Give us each day the food we need.
4 Forgive our sins,
as we forgive everyone who has done wrong to us.
And keep us from being tempted.'”
5 Then Jesus went on to say:
Suppose one of you goes to a friend in the middle of the night and says, “Let me borrow three loaves of bread. 6 A friend of mine has dropped in, and I don’t have a thing for him to eat.” 7 And suppose your friend answers, “Don’t bother me! The door is bolted, and my children and I are in bed. I cannot get up to give you something.”
8 He may not get up and give you the bread, just because you are his friend. But he will get up and give you as much as you need, simply because you are not ashamed to keep on asking.
9 So I tell you to ask and you will receive, search and you will find, knock and the door will be opened for you.
10 Everyone who asks will receive, everyone who searches will find, and the door will be opened for everyone who knocks. 11 Which one of you fathers would give your hungry child a snake if the child asked for a fish? 12 Which one of you would give your child a scorpion if the child asked for an egg? 13 As bad as you are, you still know how to give good gifts to your children. But your heavenly Father is even more ready to give the Holy Spirit to anyone who asks.
Background on the Gospel Reading
Luke gives more attention to Jesus’ teachings on prayer than any other Gospel writer. He also mentions Jesus at prayer more than the others. In today’s reading, from the beginning of Chapter 11 of his Gospel, Luke presents the core of Jesus’ teaching on prayer. It consists of Jesus teaching a prayer to his disciples, a parable on the persistent neighbor, and assurances that God hears our prayers.
The disciples notice Jesus praying “in a certain place.” They ask him to teach them to pray just as John the Baptist had taught his disciples. Jesus teaches them a simple version of the most famous Christian prayer, the Our Father, or the Lord’s Prayer. Matthew’s version shows signs of being shaped by public prayer. Luke’s version is probably closer to the original form that Jesus taught. Stripped of much of the language we are used to, Luke’s version seems simple and direct. We pray that God’s name will be recognized as holy and that his rule over all will be established. This is followed by petitions for our needs for bread, for forgiveness, and for deliverance. Luke uses the more theological language of “sins” rather than “debts,” which is used in Matthew’s version.
Having taught his disciples a simple, daily prayer, Jesus goes on to reassure them that God answers prayers. First he tells a parable about a persistent neighbor who asks a friend for bread at midnight. The friend is already in bed and has no desire to disturb his family by opening the door. But because the neighbor is persistent, the sleeping man gets up and gives him all that he needs. If a neighbor is willing to help us if we are persistent enough, how could God not respond to our requests?
“Lord’s Prayer”, perhaps the most precious gift
Pope Francis
In today’s Gospel passage (cf. Lk 11:1-13), Saint Luke narrates the circumstances in which Jesus teaches the “Lord’s Prayer”. They, the disciples, already know how to pray by reciting the formulas of the Jewish tradition, but they too wish to experience the same “quality” of Jesus’ prayer because they can confirm that prayer is an essential dimension in their Master’s life. Indeed each of his important actions is marked by long pauses in prayer. Moreover, they are fascinated because they see that he does not pray like the other teachers of the time, but rather his prayer is an intimate bond with the Father, so much so that they wish to be a part of these moments of union with God, in order to completely savour its sweetness.
Thus, one day they wait for Jesus to finish praying in a secluded place and then they ask him: “Lord, teach us to pray” (v. 1). In responding to the disciples’ explicit question, Jesus does not provide an abstract definition of prayer, nor does he teach an efficient technique to pray in order to “obtain” something. Instead, he invites his own to experience prayer, by putting them directly in communication with the Father, causing them to feel nostalgic for a personal relationship with God, with the Father. Herein lies the novelty of Christian prayer! It is a dialogue between people who love each other, a dialogue based on trust, sustained by listening and open to a commitment to solidarity. It is the dialogue of a Son with his Father, a dialogue between children and their Father. This is Christian prayer.
Hence, he delivers the “Lord’s Prayer” to them, perhaps the most precious gift left to us by the Divine Master during his earthly mission. After revealing to us his mystery as Son and brother, with that prayer Jesus allows us to enter into God’s paternity. I want to underscore this: when Jesus teaches us the “Our Father”, he allows us to enter into God’s paternity and he points the way to enter into a prayerful and direct dialogue with him, through the path of filial intimacy. It is a dialogue between a father and his son, of a son with his father. What we ask in the “Our Father” is already fulfilled for us in his Only-begotten Son: the sanctification of the Name, the advent of the Kingdom, the gift of bread, of forgiveness and of delivery from evil. As we ask, we open our hand to receive; to receive the gifts that the Father has shown us in his Son. The prayer that the Lord taught us is the synthesis of every prayer and we address it to the Father, always in communion with our brothers and sisters. Sometimes distractions can occur in prayer, but we often feel the need to stop at the first word, “Father”, and feel that paternity in our heart.
Jesus then recounts the parable of the importune friend and Jesus says: “we must persevere in prayer”. My thoughts turn to what children do when they are three-and-a-half years old: they begin to ask about things they do not understand. In my country, it is called “the ‘why’ age”, I think it is also the same here. Children begin to look at their father and ask: Why Dad? Why Dad? They ask for explanations. Let us be careful: when the father begins to explain why, they come up with another question without listening to the entire explanation. What is happening? Children feel insecure about many things that they are only partially beginning to understand. They only wish to attract the father’s gaze, and thus the “why, why, why?”. If we pause on the first word of the “Our Father”, we will be doing the same as when we were children: attracting the father’s gaze upon us: saying, “Father, Father” and also asking, “why?”, and he will look at us.
Let us ask Mary, woman of prayer to help us pray the “Our Father” in unity with Jesus in order to live the Gospel guided by the Holy Spirit.
Angelus, 28/07/2019
Prayer: A struggle with God
Gospel reflection – Luke 11:1-13
Fernando Armellini
Introduction
Whatever their religion, the believers in God pray. Even Christians pray. They pray for the sick, for those without a job, for a son who got into bad company, for families with discord. They ask God for rain, blessing for the crops, and protection from misfortune. Today, this type of prayer is derided by some; it leaves others indifferent and raises many questions even in the believers. Why pray if God already knows what we need and is always willing to give us every good?
Even in the face of the most heartfelt pleas, he is often silent. He lets the events take their seemingly absurd course. Everything proceeds as if he does not exist. His inexplicable silence makes one cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps 22:2).
The dialogue with him also assumes dramatic tones, is turned into discussion, in open dispute. Jeremiah turns him an almost blasphemous accusation: “Why do you deceive me and why does my spring suddenly dry up?” (Jer 15:18). “You are like the seasonal water. They were but melted ice, running from under the snow. But summer comes and the river dries under the blazing sun, no water is left … . The caravans of Sheba look for them, in vain they expected, they are frustrated on arriving there (Job 6:15-20).
We would like a complacent God, who guarantees our dreams. He, instead, tries to free us from our illusions, to rescue us from misery, pettiness, vain desires, and involve us in his plans. Prayer is thus a struggle with the Lord, as sustained by Jacob, for a whole night, at the river Jabbok (Gen 32:23-33). Who surrenders to God comes out a winner.
Gospel
No evangelist insists so much on the subject of prayer as Luke. He remembers that Jesus prayed seven times. He was praying—he says—at baptism (Lk 3:21); “He withdrew to the wilderness to pray” during his public life (Lk 5:16); he prayed when he chose the disciples (Lk 6:12), and before asking them to say something about his identity (Lk 9:18). He was praying at the time of the Transfiguration (Lk 9:28-29) and when he taught the Our Father (Lk 11:1). He prayed especially in the most dramatic moment of his life, in Gethsemane (Lk 22:41-46).
In addition to these records, Luke also reports five prayers of Jesus. Of these I want to recall the two moving prayers, uttered on the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they know not know what they are doing” (Lk 23:34) and—his last words before he died—”Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Lk 23:46).
It is enough to show that the whole life of Jesus was marked by prayer. The lucidity of his choices, his psychological balance, his sweetness combined with firmness can be explained by his perfect relationship with the Father, a relationship established through prayer.
He did not pray to ask favors, to get a discount on the difficulties of life. He did not ask God to change his plans, but to make him know what was his will, in order to make it his own and fulfill it.
Today’s passage is a catechesis on prayer. It starts by presenting the circumstance in which Jesus taught the Our Father (v.1). Then it shows the Lord’s Prayer (vv. 2-4) followed by a parable (vv. 5-8). It ends with the words with which Jesus assures the efficacy of prayer (vv. 9-13). Let’s examine each of these parts.
In ancient times religious movements were characterized not only by the truth they believed and the ethical standards they were observing but also by a prayer in which their faith and proposal of life are synthesized. The Baptist too had taught it to his disciples.
One day the apostles approach Jesus and ask him to compose one for them (v. 1). Responding to this demand he teaches them the Our Father.
Here—many Christians exclaim—is the most beautiful of all the prayers! Better than the Hail Mary, the Salve Regina, and the Requiem Aeternam, because it was spoken by Jesus.
This affirmation comes from the presupposition that the Our Father is a formula of prayer to add to others. That is not so.
The Our Father is not to be juxtaposed with the other prayers, but to the Apostles’ Creed because, like the Creed, it is a complete compendium of faith and of Christian life. In the early Church, the catechumens directly learned it from the mouth of the bishop. It was the surprise, the gift he gave to them who had applied and were accepted to be Christians. He consigned it to the catechumens eight days before their baptism, and these, during the celebration of the Easter Vigil, gave it back, that is, they recited it for the first time together with their communities. For this, it would be nice to recite it sometime at the baptismal font.
Father (v. 2).
Tell me how you pray and I will tell in which God you believe. The atheist does not pray because he has no one to converse with. He believes it is alienating to seek from another those solutions that one can find by himself. Believers pray, but the methods are different, because to each religious belief there corresponds a different image of God. For some, God is only a blind force, impersonal, sometimes beneficial, at other times evil, unpredictable, maybe whimsical. For others, he is an anonymous interlocutor, and for others still, he is a “supreme being,” a severe judge, an “absolute owner” of all things, and who can be approached only by those accompanied by an angel or someone holy that acts as a mediator.
For Christians, God is the Father, by whom they have been thought of and loved “before being formed in secret, woven in the depths of the earth” (Ps 109:15). When they turn to him—standing (not kneeling)—they call him Father (v. 2). They appeal to him directly and with confidence; they do not feel any need of protection or recommendations, entering into his house because the door is always open. If like the prodigal son, sometimes they turn away from him, they know they can come back and be well received.
“Hallowed be thy name” (v. 2).
It is the first greeting that emerges on the lips of a Christian when he turns to the Father. It reveals the irrepressible desire to see realized the dream of God. The passive form of the expression is equivalent—in biblical language—to sanctify, O God, your name. Not us, but he has to manifest the holiness of his name. How?
Down through the centuries—the Bible says—Israel has profaned the name of his God, not because she was swearing, but because, with her infidelity, she prevented him to express his love and to accomplish his salvation (Ex 36:20). The name of God is not “hallowed” or glorified when many applaud him, when the number of those who participate in solemn liturgies and ceremonies in the temples increases, but when his salvation reaches man. A poor who obtains justice, a heart freed from hatred, a sinner who becomes happy, a family that has rebuilt understanding and peace “sanctify the name of God,” because they are proof that his word performs wonders.
In the Our Father, the Christian hopes that God will soon bring to fruition the promise made through the mouth of Ezekiel: “I will make known the holiness of my great Name, profaned among the nations … . For I will gather you from all the nations and bring you back to your own land … . I shall give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you. I shall remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh … . You will live in the land I gave to your ancestors; you shall be my people and I will be your God” (Ezk 36:23-28).
When he asks: ‘hallowed be your name,’ the disciple declares to the Father his willingness to get involved, to collaborate with him because this promise of good will come true. He does not know “neither the day nor the hour” (Mk 13:32), but he is certain that his prayer will be heard.
“Thy kingdom come” (v. 2).
The experience of the monarchy in Israel was disappointing, as evidenced by the dramatic denunciations of the prophets: “Your rulers are tyrants, partners of thieves. They love a bribe and look around for gifts. No one protects the orphan or listens to the claim of the widow” (Is 1:23). The people feel the need of a new kingdom in which the thoughts of God guide the destinies of the country, not greed, the frenzies of power, and selfish interests.
The wait for the day when the Lord will personally hand the fate of his people and become king starts. The Psalmist sings the wonder of that kingdom: “Justice will flower in his days, and peace abound till the moon be no more. May grain abound throughout the land, waving and rustling as in Lebanon, may cities teem with people, as fields with grass” (Ps 72:7,16). Even the prophets dream of that day: “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who herald peace and happiness, who proclaim salvation and announce to Zion: ’Your God is king.’” (Is 52:7).
The waiting, at the time of Jesus, is feverish. In the third of the eighteen Blessings, devout Israelites ask God: “From your place, oh our king, shine and reign over us because we are waiting for your reign in Zion.” The hopes raised by the prophecies also generate illusions, false expectations, misunderstandings from which insane riots take a start ending in bloodshed.
The Kingdom which is the center of the preaching of Jesus is “not of this world.” In the New Testament, the “reign of God” is mentioned one hundred twenty times and ninety times on the mouth of Jesus. He says: “But if I cast out demons by the finger God would not this mean that the Kingdom of God has come upon you?” (Lk 11:20) and he proclaims: “Kingdom of God is within you” (Lk 17:21).
The time of waiting is over, however, the Christian continues to beg its coming because the Kingdom of God is just beginning. It must develop and grow in every person as a seed of goodness, of love, of reconciliation, of peace. Prayer makes him avoid tragic misunderstandings, helps him to discern between the kingdoms of this world (by which he is always flattered and seduced) and the Kingdom of God.
“Give us each day our daily bread” (v. 3).
Among the Oriental people where every family had its own oven, the bread was much more than just food to consume. It evoked feelings, emotions, relations of friendship that we now ignore. It was a reminder of the generosity and sharing with the poor. Bread could not be eaten alone (Job 31:17), it was always to be shared with the hungry (Is 58:7).
The bread was holy; it could not be thrown in the garbage. It was not cut with the knife but gently broken. Only man’s hands were worthy to touch it because it had something sacred: man’s work and God’s blessing that had given to his people a fertile land and had sent in his time rain and dew.
It is the toil of the farmer who gives us the bread. So what do we ask of God: that he works instead of us? Does it make sense to ask him what we are able to procure for ourselves? Don’t we run the risk of falling back into alienation and obscurantism?
We examine every detail of the question: we ask our bread. Manna is never said to be ours: it fell from the sky, it was a unique gift from God (Ne 9:20). Bread instead is both a gift of God and fruit of man’s sweat, of man’s toil and sacrifice, for this people can rightly say ours.
The bread blessed by God is the one produced “together” with the brothers, the one obtained from the earth that God has destined for all and not just for some, that which does not contain the tears of the exploited poor.
Reciting the Lord’s Prayer means constantly checking oneself because one cannot pray in a sincere and genuine way if thinking only of his own bread, forgetting the poor, and neglecting social justice.
Who does not work, who lives off of others cannot ask God for our daily bread. To ask for the daily bread means refusing to hoard food for the next day, while the brothers and sisters lack today’s necessity; it means freeing one’s heart from the greed of possession and anguish of tomorrow. It amounts to saying: “Help me, Father, to be content with the necessary, to be free from the bondage of goods and give me the strength to share with the poor.”
“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive” (v. 4).
We can say any prayer (Hail Mary, the Angelus, the Requiem Aeternam) with hatred in our hearts, but not the Lord’s Prayer.
The Christian cannot hope to be heard by God if he does not cultivate feelings of love for the brother and sister. It is not enough to forget the injury received, something more is asked for. The Christian cannot open up to the Father’s love if he refuses to be reconciled with the brother and sister.
“And lead us not into temptation” (v. 4).
The temptation from which we ask to be saved does not refer to asking ourselves to be saved from small weaknesses, miseries and daily fragility (which are also not included), but the abandonment of the “logic of the Gospel” to adhere to the “logic of this world.” Tribulation or persecution can make us stumble and go into crisis; the worries of life and the deceitfulness of goods can choke the seed of the Word of God. The Christian does not ask to be kept safe from these “temptations,” but from giving into the temptations of this world, not to be touched by the idea of abandoning the Master.
After having presented the model of Christian prayer, Jesus tells the parable of a man who, with great insistence, went to ask a friend to give him three loaves (vv. 5-8). This story intends to teach that prayer gets results only if it is prolonged. Not because God wants to be asked for a long time before granting something, but because man is slow to assimilate God’s thoughts and feelings.
Our prayers seem attempts to persuade God to change his plan. We would like him to comply with our ideas, that he would correct the “mistakes” committed. If we talk with him at length, we eventually understand his love and accept his designs.
Prayer does not change God; it opens our minds, changes our hearts. This inner transformation cannot be realized—except by improbable miracles—in a few moments. It is hard to give up our way of reading the events. We find it hard to accept the light of God. We are blind, we are not able (or do not like) to see. The ways of God are not always easy and pleasant; they require conversions, efforts, renouncements, sacrifices. To reach the interior adherence to the will of the Lord, to get to see with our own eyes the events of our lives we must pray … for a long time.
And so we come to the last part of today’s Gospel (vv. 9-13). Christian prayer is always answered—Jesus says—but our experience does not seem to confirm this statement.
The theme of the insistence in prayer is resumed through three images: to ask, to seek, and to knock. Prayer always produces prodigious and unexpected results. But we do not cultivate false hopes. Outside of ourselves, the reality will remain the same as before (the disease continues, the grievance will remain, the wounds of betrayal will be painful), but inside everything will be different. If the mind and heart are no longer the same, though the look with which we contemplate our situation, the world and the brothers become different, purer, more “divine,” the prayer got its result; it has been heard.
Having recovered serenity and inner peace, even the moral and psychological wounds will quickly heal and also organic diseases—why not?—may heal more easily.
Fernando Armellini
Italian missionary and biblical scholar
https://sundaycommentaries.wordpress.com
JESUS’ THREE SUMMONS
José A. Pagola
«I say to you: ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you». It’s easy for Jesus to say these words as he’s moving through the villages of Galilee asking for something to eat, seeking a place to stay, knocking on neighbors’ doors. He knows how to take advantage of the simplest experiences of life in order to awaken the confidence of his followers in the Good Father we all have.
It’s curious that at no time does he tell us what we need to ask for or seek, or at whose door we need to knock. What’s important for Jesus is our attitude. In front of the Father we need to live as the poor who ask for what they need to stay alive, the lost who seek out a path that they don’t know well, the helpless who knock on God’s door.
These three summons of Jesus invite us to awaken our trust in the Father, but they do this with different nuances. «Ask» is the attitude typical of someone poor. We need to ask God for what we can’t get by ourselves: life-breath, forgiveness, inner peace, salvation. «Seek» isn’t just ask. It’s also to take steps to get what’s not within our reach. Thus we need to seek above all God’s Reign and God’s justice: a more human world, one that’s suitable for all. «Knock» is to beat down the door, insist, cry out to God when we feel God is far away.
Jesus’ confidence in the Father is absolute. He wants his followers to never forget: everyone who asks receives, who searches finds, who knocks finds the door opened. Jesus doesn’t say that they receive concretely what they were asking for, that they find what they went around seeking or that they accomplish what they were crying out for. His promise is something else: to those who trust in God, God gives; those who come close to God, receive «good things».
Jesus doesn’t give complicated explanations. He presents three examples that parents of every age could understand. What parent, when their child asks for a piece of bread, would give her a rock like the round ones you can see along the side of the road? Or if your child asks for a fish, would you give him one of those water snakes that sometimes appear in the fishing nets? Or if she asks for an egg, would you give her a scorpion that you see swarming at the edge of a lake?
Parents don’t trick their children. They don’t deceive them or give them something that could harm them, but «good things». Jesus comes quickly to the conclusion: «How much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him». For Jesus, the best thing we could ask for and receive from God is God’s life-breath, God’s Spirit, God’s Love that sustains us and saves our life.
José Antonio Pagola
http://www.feadulta.com
