NOt Just Another Prayer
Seventh Sunday of Easter | May 16, 2021
Acts 1:15-17, 21-26
John 17:6-19
This doesn’t sound like a prayer. It sounds like a systematic theology lecture. When I was in seminary, our seminary president was a systematic theologian. There was a day when he filled in for our theology class. I tried to take notes—copying anything he had on the board. But I still have no clue what he was talking about. I imagine, if Jesus had actually prayed this prayer over his disciples, they would have felt the same way.
That is to say, I think this is, in part, a theology lecture that John places in Jesus’ mouth as he writes his gospel account for the faithful who might read it. It very well may be that Jesus prayed over the disciples that fateful Thursday night as they sat around the Seder meal. Jesus had just washed their feet, confounding them all with his servitude. They ate the meal during which Jesus reframed the meaning of the bread and wine to refer specifically to himself and his faithfulness and love for the world. And now, he has this long teaching, spanning (in our Bibles) chapter 14 through the end of chapter 17, in which he tells the disciples about the Way, the Truth, and the Life, promises the Holy Spirit as the Advocate when he leaves, implores them to stay connected to the true vine, warns them of the world’s hatred for them and for the Truth, and finally ends in this prayer about being in but not of the world and being in unity with one another.
It's a very long teaching in which—for me, at least—all the notes in the world wouldn’t be able to truly get at what’s going on here. Jesus is doing what every mother in the world does when sending her kids off to another place. He is giving some last instructions before they’re on their own: “Drive safe. Don’t talk to strangers. Just say no. Watch out for everyone else. Be good.” And then, as they take off, little feet peddling away, he prays fervently that they actually heard and took to heart at least one of those instructions. No. One of those prayers. Because that’s what the instructions are—prayers over the ones the parent loves.
That’s what this is, as well. This long teaching and prayer is a fervent plea that the disciples won’t stray from the path; that they will be protected from evil; that they will know the support and love of God; and that they will not let the values of this world divide them. The core of this prayer is that the disciples will know the unity that God knows—the flow of love that exudes from the creator, is shared by the redeemer, and is used to hold all things together by the Spirit.
I find it interesting that, in this prayer, Jesus says that he’s not praying on behalf of the world. He’s praying on behalf of the disciples. And then he keeps emphasizing the importance that neither he nor the disciples belong to the world. And yet, he prays that they won’t be taken from the world. On the surface, one might think that he’s saying that the world is bad. To be in and not of the world could mean that, like the song says, “This world is not my home. I’m only passing through.” But I don’t think that’s what he’s saying at all.
In fact, earlier in John’s account, Jesus tells Nicodemus that God so loves the world that God sent the Christ to redeem all of creation—to claim it all from evil—to restore to it the wholeness in which God dreamed it into being. The world is not bad. But the world has gone astray. From the moment Adam and Eve believed they could be like gods, creation has been groaning under the weight of sin and death. We do not believe God when God says that we are God’s beloved and holy children. We have missed the mark in faithfulness, in truth, and in grace. We put ourselves before others, greed before grace, power before humility.
And so Jesus prays on behalf of the disciples—that they will be united against the direction the world has taken. That they will not be influenced by these same values but, instead, will influence the world with the values of God. With the love of God. Jesus prays, “Drive safe. Be aware of strangers. Just say no. Watch out for others. Be good.” His prayer isn’t some sort of direction for God—as many of our prayers tend to be. His prayer is direction for the disciples. So that they can hear his love coming from his mouth.
Prayer is hard, you know. Sometimes we find ourselves praying for something to happen—or not happen. We pray, hoping for a miracle while, at the same time, knowing that God is not a puppeteer. We pray, negotiating with God for what we want, placing down good behavior or a change in life as collateral for whatever we want God to do. We pray, placing our money into the slot and choosing from the vending machine. We pray, writing letters to the jolly old elf god who makes a list and checks it twice.
Prayer is hard because we often make it one-sided. Words, words, words. But the prayer Jesus offers isn’t to make God do what he asks but to help the disciples understand God’s desires for them. The prayer was an opportunity for them to listen. To know God’s love. And sometimes, prayer is hard because we’ve known the prayers others have made on our behalf—sometimes prayers that are not always offered from a place of love but from a place of disgust. Of discomfort. Of hurtfulness.
This week, I came across a sung prayer by a person named Spencer LaJoye, pronouns they/them. They write that they don’t pray in the traditional sense because they have been the recipient of prayers that didn’t honor who they were. Prayers that really hurt. But they had been tasked with writing a song for a friend’s communion gathering, and so composed the prayer that you’re about to hear. Spencer thought, “What would a prayer sound like if it was used as a balm instead of a weapon? A plowshare instead of a sword?” Here is what they came up with. Link to the video here.
“A Plowshare Prayer” by Spencer LaJoye
Dear blessed creator, dear mother, dear savior
Dear father, dear brother, dear holy other
Dear sibling, dear baby, dear patiently waiting
Dear sad and confused, dear stuck and abused
Dear end-of-your-rope, dear worn out and broke,
Dear go-it-alone, dear running from home
Dear righteously angry, forsaken by family
Dear jaded and quiet, dear tough and defiant
I pray that I’m heard
And I pray that this works
I pray if a prayer has been used as a sword
against you and your heart, against you and your word
I pray that this prayer is a plowshare, of sorts
that it might break you open, it might help you grow
I pray that your body gets all that it needs
and if you don’t want healing, I just pray for peace
I pray that your burden gets lighter each day
I pray the mean voice in your head goes away
I pray that you honor the grief as it comes
I pray you can feel all the life in your lungs
I pray that if you go all day being brave
that you can go home, go to bed feeling safe
I pray you’re forgiven, I pray you forgive
I pray you set boundaries and openly live
I pray that you feel you are worth never leaving
I pray that you know I will always believe you
I pray that you’re heard
and I pray that this works
Amen on behalf of the last and the least
On behalf of the anxious, depressed, and unseen
Amen for the workers, the hungry, the houseless
Amen for the lonely and recently spouseless
Amen for the queers and their closeted peers
Amen for the bullied who hold in their tears
Amen for the mothers of little Black sons
Amen for the kids who grow up scared of guns
Amen for the addicts, the ashamed and hungover
Amen for the calloused, the wisened, the sober
Amen for the ones who want life to be over
Amen for the leaders who lose their composure
Amen for the parents who just lost their baby
Amen for the chronically ill and disabled
Amen for the children down at the border
Amen for the victims of our law and order
I pray that you’re heard
and I pray that this works
I pray if a prayer has been used as a sword
against you and your heart, against you and your word
I pray that this prayer is a plowshare, of sorts
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
