PESTERING THE LORD

PRAYING WITHOUT BECOMING WEARY

The Sunday Gospel for Oct. 19 is the parable of the Widow and the Unjust Judge. Here’s a reflection that I wrote some years ago on this little story.

Sometimes I have the impression that the Lord is in no great hurry to answer my prayers. Judging from the number of parables about bridegrooms who are delayed in coming, and masters who go off on five-year journeys, it would seem that the earliest Christians, too, had a similar experience of waiting impatiently on the Lord. No doubt they lost heart at times, wondering if he was ever going to keep his promise to return on the clouds of heaven.

Luke, knowing the impatience and discouragement of his little community, has Jesus warn the disciples that the end may not come any time soon: "The days will come when you will long to see one of the days of the Son of Man, but you will not see it" (Luke 17:22). The gospel writer follows this saying immediately with an especially powerful little story about perseverance in prayer. "He told them a parable on the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary" (Luke 18:1).

THE PARABLE OF THE WIDOW AND THE JUDGE

The story concerns a corrupt judge and a certain widow.

The judge is part of a judicial system which is rife with bribery and corruption, and which favors the rich and powerful over the weak and the poor. The widow, on the other hand, is in a particularly vulnerable situation, since a woman in those times derived her status completely from her husband. She has no welfare system or Social Security to fall back on, but has to fend for herself as best she can. This is the background, then, for the clash between the widow and the judge.

This particular widow, Jesus tells us, came to the judge demanding her rights. The verb "came" is in the "imperfect" tense, which is Greek's way of showing continued repetition: "she kept coming and coming." We get the picture of a woman constantly badgering the judge until she gets what she wants. The image grows more forceful as the story continues.

Despite the fact that he "fears neither God nor man," the judge finally decides "because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me" (Luke 18:5). This sentence is much more picturesque in the original Greek. It starts with the expression "yet because this widow keeps causing me trouble (kopos), I will give her justice." Kopos, "difficulty, toil," comes from a root which means "chop, hack." It's fun to imagine this powerful judge feeling that he's getting chopped and hacked by this strong-willed widow!

The second half of the sentence follows with another comical image: the judge decides to rule in her favor "lest she finally come and strike (hupōpiazō) me." This verb is used to describe fistfights. Paul applies it to his own spiritual self-discipline: "I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing. No, I drive my body and train (hupōpiazō) it" (I Corinthians 9:27). He toughens his body the way a prizefighter does, by striking it repeatedly to get it in shape. Hupōpiazō is actually a combination of hupo, "under," and ops "the eye," and means literally "to strike below the eye." This is what the judge is afraid the pesky widow may do to him -- sock him in the eye

This three-sentence parable paints an unforgettable picture of a completely powerless person managing to get her way with a mighty judge. Then Jesus draws the lesson for us: "Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night" (Luke 18:6-7)" "Who call out to him" is a present participle in Greek: "calling out to him day and night." Once again we have the image of constant, ongoing, relentless asking.

My study of hupōpiazō has had an impact on my own approach to prayer. Recently, as I

started to bless myself at the end of a few minutes of praying, I felt a bony elbow jab into my ribs. "Hey! Why are you stopping so soon?" rasped an old woman's voice. "You're just getting started!" I sat there mute and mystified. "I'm telling you, go back and ask again!" She was so upset with me that I was afraid she was going to haul off and hit me. "Then after that," she went on, "go back and ask again. Keep asking!" I did go back and ask again. She's returned several more times since then to push me into being more tenacious and persistent in my praying.

Just this morning she stopped me, right in the middle of my prayer. "Listen! Do you really want what you're praying for? Because you sure don't sound like it! You're just rattling on, only half thinking about what you're saying. You ask that way and expect God to answer you? You've got to be kidding!" I just sat there stone-faced, knowing that the widow, as usual, was right. "You've got to throw your whole heart into it!" she continued, "Don't be shy -- that never gets results. Maybe try getting a little loud. You know -- make a scene, let him know you're serious."

St. Benedict's approach to prayer in his Rule for Monks reflects the widow's approach: he usually connects prayer with tears and compunction, and advises us to pray without ceasing. Little by little I have been learning to pray more passionately myself, borrowing a bit of the widow's fiery enthusiasm. I'm not sure how much this kind of praying changes God, but it is certainly changing me. Although the parable does not say that the judge and the widow ended up being good friends, I am sure that if I just keep trying to "pray without growing weary," I will end up in a closer and livelier relationship with God, the just Judge.

THINK ABOUT IT

Most of us have been taught to pray to God tentatively, and to add at the end of our petition some statement like, "However, Lord, if you don't want to grant my request, that's fine too. I will gladly accept whatever it is that you decide to do." How does this laid back, seemingly indifferent approach square with the widow's forceful approach, which was recommended by Jesus himself?

Are you comfortable pestering God passionately and repeatedly with a particular request? Do you ever pray that way? If so, what do you pray for? What do you do if your prayer is still not answered?

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THE SECOND STRIKE

This past Thursday the first reading at mass was from the book of Numbers. The scene isone from the so-called “murmuring traditions.“\

 The Israelites are out in the desert, and they have run out of water. So they turn against Moses and Aaron, asking why Moses had brought them out of Egypt into this wilderness to die of thirst. In response, Moses and Aaron go to the Tent of Meeting where they present the problem to the Lord. 

The Lord tells them to assemble all the people so that they will see that the Lord can indeed provide water for them in the desert. After everyone is assembled, and the Lord assures them that he will produce water for them, he tells Moses to strike this big rock.

Chapter 20 verse 11 tells us what happens next.  Moses strikes the rock twice and water immediately gushes forth in torrents. Then in the next verse, the Lord says to Moses and Aaron, “Because you were not faithful to me in showing forth my sanctity before the children of Israel, you shall not lead this community into the land I will give them.”

What just happened? What provoked God‘s wrath against Moses and Aaron? Scholars have various explanations, but the one I have always preferred is this: Moses made a mistake by striking the rock a second time. When he strikes the rock he is following the Lord‘s command, and this one blow will be sufficient to work the miracle. But then Moses strikes the rock the second time, adding his own effort to God‘s power just to be sure. It is as if he doesn’t trust that God can really pull this off on his own. So the Lord complains “You did not have confidence in me!”

How often am I tempted to strike the rock twice myself? Do I always manage to trust God‘s power implicitly, with all my heart? “Just trust me, Albert, I will take care of it. You can stop striking that rock now, I’ll take care of everything! Or don't you have confidence in me?”

Too often, though, if you were to watch me carefully, you might catch me standing at this big rock and striking it over and over and over with a heavy stick. In the background, you will see the Lord smiling patiently, watching as I exhaust myself instead of asking the Lord to help. 

The next time you start to lose confidence in the Lord's power, think of Moses and that fateful second strike on the rock,

A GOOD QUESTION

This past Sunday, October 27, presented us with the powerful scene of Jesus healing the blind beggar,Bartimaeus. One of the many interesting details in this miracle story occurs when the blind man stands in front of Jesus and Jesus asks him “What do you want me to do for you?” 

I reflected on Jesus‘s question and wondered why he had to ask such an obvious thing of a blind man who had cried out to him “Son of David have pity on me.“ 

It wasn’t long before my meditation shifted from that scene in Jericho and landed squarely in my heart. I heard Jesus directing his question not to Bartimaeus but to me: “Albert what do you want me to do for you?¨ I was caught off guard by the offer

Of course I was pleased at the love and generosity that lay behind the question, but I was at a loss as to what to ask for.

After going through a couple of possibilities, however, I soon enough settled on one. As I answered the question I realized that I had never before asked for God´s help with that particular matter.

But then I said to myself, ¨Why stop with just one request?” That´s when I went on a roll, and started placing before the Lord all sorts of concerns and problems. It was a very intimate moment, as I stood before Jesus with completely empty hands, asking his help.

Taking Jesus up on his offer, I had told him lots of things that he could do for me if he wished. If you have not tried this recently, I can recommend it as a great approach to prayer: putting yourself in the place of Bartimaeus and answering Jesus´ question with your own wants and needs.

What do you want me to do for you?

"Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you" (Mt 7:7).

I don’t know about you, but this passage about the effectiveness of prayer usually leaves me uncomfortable. When I knock, the door is not always opened to me, and when I ask, I don’t always receive.

While I was preaching on this passage recently, however, a vivid image came to me: there I was knocking repeatedly on a door, but no one was answering. It turns out that I was knocking on the wrong door!

When I knock on the door of material wealth, or power, for example, expecting that behind such a door I will find ultimate satisfaction, then no wonder that the door never opens.

Then there are surely times when I seek desperately but do not find what I am looking for. But these are undoubtedly the times when I am seeking in the wrong place! It’s a tale as old as the story of Adam and Eve, and which keeps repeating itself through the ages: we race around, looking for meaning in our lives in such things as possessions, power, and prestige. But in the end, we are still left feeling incomplete, with that inner hollowness still there, unfilled.

Looking in the wrong place and knocking on the wrong door end up leaving us frustrated and disappointed in God who does not answer our prayers.

“Why doesn’t God open the door? I have been knocking on it for years!” Well, it’s always a good idea to be sure that I am knocking on the right door and not on one that leads nowhere. Once I'm sure that I've got the right door, then I'm faced with the mystery of unanswered prayer. Saint Paul writes about this problem when he reminds his readers that when our prayers are not answered, one reason may be because we do not ask properly, or do not ask for the right things.

But that's a topic for another post or two.

I have found these two images, of seeking in the wrong place and knocking on the wrong door, helpful in approaching that complex question of why God does not seem to answer our prayers.

Tree of Life and Crucifixion

YOUR EMPTY SPACE

I’m still re-reading Richard Rohr’s book, “The Divine Dance”. The following two excerpts are out of a much wider context form the book, but I trust that they may still challenge you as they have challenged me. I offer them as food for your own reflection -- in other words, I'll let the Holy Spirit and you do the work this week.

You must guard and protect your inner space. This is precisely what Yahweh says to Israel, “I shall come to meet you.” But most have not been taught the practice or the patience to stand guard over this seemingly empty space where your inner witnessing presence, your quiet inner Knower, dwells. You must learn to trust this Knower. The Spirit is doing the knowing and loving in you, with you, and for you. This is at the heart of a contemplative, and truly Christian epistemology. 112

You yourself are a traveling ark of the covenant; you hold and guard the space where the Presence shows itself. But the Presence, the force field, is already held with in you. It only needs allowing and appreciate it. 113

WATCHING FOR WEEDS

An enemy sowed weeds

This morning’s gospel reading is the parable about an enemy who comes and sows weeds in the field of a farmer. (Matthew, 13:25.) I want to reflect on an interesting aspect of this story that is not directly concerned with the main point of the parable but which I found helpful to reflect on, namely those “weeds” that the enemy comes and sows in the farmer’s field. What do they have to do with me?

First, I think about all the distractions that I put up with when I am trying to pray. Here is a quotation from a time-tested book, “The Kneeling Christian” by Albert Richardson (1924):

So then, prayer meets with obstacles, which must be prayed away. That is what men mean when they talk about praying “through.“ We must wrestle with the machinations of Satan. It may be bodily weariness or pain, or the insistent claims of other thoughts, or doubt, or the direct assaults of spiritual hosts of wickedness.91”

The author’s language is often old-fashioned, but I have found many of his thoughts to be really helpful.

In the case of this parable, we can take it as a warning not to be naïve about our prayer— there are powers of evil in the world that will try to disrupt and discourage our efforts at prayer.

Listen to these words of the First Letter of Peter:

Be sober and vigilant. Your opponent the devil is prowling around like a roaring lion looking for [someone] to devour. Resist him, steadfast in faith, knowing that your fellow believers throughout the world undergo the same sufferings. (5:8,9)

St. Peter would certainly agree that we should be prepared to wrestle sometimes at prayer.

A second point comes when you look at the Greek word that the gospel writer uses that gets translated as “weeds.” Of course, weeds can be pretty pesky, especially during this time of year. But the Greek word zizania contains another dimension that we never realize. According to my Greek lexicon, not only are zizania a pesky nuisance, like the weeds that invade our flower beds, but their seeds are poisonous!

Once again, we are being warned not to be caught off guard but now the stakes are higher. What Satan is trying to sow in our lives can’t just be ignored or laughed off: his temptations can be poisonous, even deadly.

Saint Caesarius of Arles (d. 542) was always warning his flock against being complacent in their practice of the faith. He would say that it is just at the moment when we are quite satisfied with ourselves and so let down our guard, that the devil moves in and we fall into sin. 

¨an enemy came at night
and sowed weeds.¨

I’m sure that a lot of modern people find this talk of Satan and devils too old-fashioned, and prefer the vocabulary of modern psychology: neurosis, compulsion, and so on. But I have always found that Saint Peter and Saint Paul and the ancient monks are on to something very useful when they use the personal imagery of an enemy who we can identify and even name.

So, when Jesus warns you about an enemy sneaking into your life to sow deadly “weeds,” while you are asleep  it’s probably worth asking yourself how that applies to your own life.

I know it applies to mine.

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STRETCHING EXERCISES

A Coincidence?

Some people say that there is no such thing as a coincidence when it comes to talking about our spiritual life. Well, in this case, it seems that the Lord arranged a beautiful “coincidence” for me in the mass readings yesterday and today.

Yesterday, Friday, the gospel of Matthew tells us that when the leper asks Jesus to heal him, Jesus “stretching out his hand” touches and heals him. The Greek verb for “stretch” (ekteino) describes a very straightforward, physical action of Jesus, reaching out to touch this man.

In today’s first reading for the solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, the Acts of the Apostles tells us that while Peter was in prison awaiting execution, the church was “praying constantly” (ekteinos) for him. But the translation “constantly,” while a legitimate second meaning, hides the important fact that the word is based on that same Greek verb “to stretch out” that was used of Jesus (in the first verse above) when healing the leper. The image, then, is of the early Christians “stretching out” in prayer. (The idea of “constantly” comes from the idea that if you pray earnestly, you will pray constantly.)

Stretching exercises?

The image that I reflected on this morning was of that small group of persecuted Christians praying for Peter, with their hands stretched out earnestly in fervent prayer, begging the Lord to watch over Peter.

It occurred to me that, unfortunately, my own prayer seldom looks like that.

Sometimes, though, inspired by this very scene from the Acts of the Apostles, I do pray with that intensity, maybe even with my hands stretched out in earnest prayer. It’s a powerful experience, maybe too powerful, too intense. When I’m praying like that I’m not in control, but leaving myself completely open to the Lord -- and that, as you know, can be very unsettling.

Peter and Paul

On this solemn feast of  Saints Peter and Paul, we celebrate two men who give us great examples of both living and dying with heroic earnestness. Even as a Pharisee, Saul was so earnest about persecuting Christians that Jesus had to knock him to the ground and strike him blind to get his attention. We all know of his enthusiasm for preaching the gospel after his conversion.

And Peter, too, was known to act boldly for the gospel -- his brash and enthusiastic personality gave him a head start in this direction.

When it comes to the Greek word we’re looking at today, Peter leaves us a powerful verse to meditate on. In his First Letter (Ch. 4:8) he uses ekteinos to describe not Christians’ prayer but their love for their brothers and sisters: “Have constant love for one, another,” or, if you’d like, “Have earnest love for one another.” What a beautiful image!: I need to love my brothers and sisters with the same intensity and earnestness that characterized the prayer of those first Christians, and with the same purposeful “stretching out” that Jesus did when he lovingly reached out to touch that leper.

So, on the feast of Saints Peter and Paul, this “coincidence” of the Greek root ekteinos occurring two days in a row at mass has proven to be a very fruitful gift to me.

I hope it may be the same for you today.

ARE YOU WORRIED?

 The gospel  passage at today's mass (Saturday) is a treatise about worrying (Mt 6:24-34), Since the summer heat is wearing me down, I’m taking a shortcut and presenting a chapter from my book “Walking in Valleys of Darkness.” 

It's no wonder that ours is sometimes called "The Age of Anxiety." Everyone, it seems, is worried about something -- or probably about a lot of things. The pressures of daily living in a complex society – balancing job and family, providing for a secure economic future, concern for the safety and education of our children leave us feeling anxious. We stopped worrying over a nuclear showdown in the "cold war" with the Soviet Union only to be faced with the new worry of global terrorism in our cities, and warnings about drug-resistant diseases that could wipe us out.   

Since the NT word for “worry,” merimnao, comes up a dozen times, we can get some idea of the kinds of things that the people in the early Christian churches worried about. The first Christians probably a lot of the same things you and I do! In the story of Martha and Mary, Jesus points out to the harried hostess Martha, “you worry (merimnao) and fret over many things, but only one is necessary. (Lk 10:41)”

Before looking further at how the word is used, though, it would be helpful to know that the Greek New Testament verb merimnao, and the noun form merimna come from the verb merizo, “to divide,” to draw in different directions. By extension merizo means “to distract.” in the sense of “to divide someone’s attention, to cause them to go off in a different direction.” 

To be worried is, then, to be distracted from something. Martha in the passage quoted above was distracted from the opportunity to listen to God Incarnate in her own living room and soak in his words. 

Worries can distract us from many important things. In the parable of the Sower, the seed gets sown among thorns gets choked off. The thorns, Our Lord explained, are the worries (merimna) of this world that distract us from the Word sown in our hearts. In another place Jesus warns, “Take heed to yourselves, lest your hearts be overcome with surfeiting and drunkenness and the worries (merimna) of this life, and that day catch you unawares. (Lk 21:34)”  

It's true that worries can distract us from paying attention to God’s word, and can leave us unprepared for the coming of the Lord on the last day, but the bible is clear that not all anxiety is bad.

There is a kind of anxiety that is a natural part of loving and caring about someone This is the kind of anxiety that can push us closer to God. Paul tells the Philippians that he hopes to send them Timothy, the only one who is concerned about (merimnao) them the way Paul himself is (Phil. 2:20). In his list of his sufferings as an apostle Paul includes, along with shipwrecks, floods, hunger and thirst, his “anxiety” (merimna) for all the churches. (II Cor. 11:28)" 

What makes worry harmful is its power to distract us from our true goal in life. However, at least in Paul’s eyes, to be deeply concerned and even anxious for a brother or sister is not a distraction from our true mission, but is in fact something we ought to feel toward one another as Christians! He tells the Corinthians that the parts of Christ’s body should have concern (merimnao) for one another (I Cor. 12:25).

What kind of help does the bible offer to keep anxiety from distracting us from our truly important concerns? There are two texts that offer some insight. The First Letter of Peter tells the community to be humble, because God resists the proud. “And all of you, clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another, for: 'God opposes the proud but bestows favor on the humble.' So humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your worries (merimna) upon him because he cares for you. (I Pet. 5:5-7)” 

The writer connects worrying with pride. He seems to be telling us to be more humble, and stop trying to be so much in control of everything and cast our care on the Lord instead. Let God worry about it! Not such bad advice for worriers. 

In the Letter to the Philippians Paul offers a second bit of advice about how to handle worries: “The Lord is coming soon. Have no anxiety at all [= do not worry (merimnao)], but in all things, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 4:6-7)” Notice that peace comes only after you make your requests known to God. Once we include the Lord in the situation everything changes: our worries become gifts! They give us a reason to get close to God in prayer, and opportunity to admit our neediness and our dependence on God. They can lead us to the peace that surpasses all understanding – and that overcomes all anxiety.

Read Mt. 6:25-34, the section of the Sermon on the Mount that contains a treatise on worrying. Some form of the word merimnao comes up half a dozen times in those ten verses, including “Let tomorrow worry (merimnao) about itself” so that you don’t get distracted from the opportunities of today.

Read Lk 12:11 in which Jesus advises “When they bring you to trial before the synagogue do not worry (merimnao) about how you will answer or what you are to say. It will be given you at that time.” “Don’t be distracted from your present apostolic task,” he seems to be saying, “by worrying about your trial.” Have you ever been so distracted by anxiety that you lost your focus on important tasks at hand? Is there anything right now that is causing you a great amount of concern? Make up a prayer to the Lord and ask him to take that worry over for you so that you may have peace can be about the important business of being Christ to others.

BALANCING ACT

Recently, people have been asking me to pray for certain intentions, for sick friends, or for help in difficult situations, such as the flood damage people in nearby towns have been having in the past week or so. Yesterday I spent half an hour with my prayer list. 

It’s interesting that in many languages the word “pray” is a synonym for “ask.” Jesus encourages us to ask our heavenly Father for what we need or want, and so-called “prayer of petition” is an important part of our relationship with God. We believe that God answers our prayers.

But tomorrow’s first reading at mass, from the first book of Samuel (1 Sam. 3:3-10) reminds us that there has to be more to our prayer than mere asking.  

In the passage in question, young Samuel is asleep in his place in the temple, and nearby is the priest, Eli. Samuel is awakened by a voice, calling, “Samuel! Samuel!“ He gets up and goes over to Eli and says, “Yes, you called me?“ Eli assures him, “No my son I did not call you. Go back to sleep.“ This happens a second time, with the same response from Eli. Then a third time the voice calls to Samuel, and he dutifully goes to Eli, and says “Yes, you called me?“ Eli finally realizes what is happening, and tells Samuel, “ Go back to sleep, and if you hear that voice again, answer, 'Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.´”

And so it happens: Samuel answers the call as he has been told, “Speak, your servant is listening.”

This is a powerful kind of prayer -- asking God to speak to us. But unfortunately when we pray we often reverse Samuel’s powerful request to God and say instead “Listen, Lord, your servant is speaking!”

Tomorrow’s first reading reminds us of the important truth that our prayer must also include time for

listening to the Lord. Scripture is clear that God wants to speak to us, wants to reveal himself to us. This is really clear in the first chapter of John’s gospel: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.“ There plenty of other helpful verses in scripture that make the same point, such as “Be still, and know that I am God (Ps. 46:10).” 

There is a lovely story about Francis of Assisi, who approaches an almond tree in the dead of winter and asks its bare branches, “Sister almond tree, speak to me of God,” Immediately the almond tree bursts into beautiful blossoms. It’s a good idea for us, then to imitate Francis, and keep asking everything around us,  whether in nature, in other people, or in events on daily life, ¨Speak to me of God.¨

This can help balance our prayer life, so that we’re not constantly asking, “Listen, Lord, your servant is speaking!” but can also pray with young Samuel the words that Eli the priest taught him:  “Speak, your servant is listening.”

 

A LESSON FROM THE SHOPPERS

In the Gospel for this Sunday, October 23, Jesus tells us the parable of the two men who went up to the temple to pray:

Jesus addressed this parable

to those who were convinced of their own righteousness

and despised everyone else.

"Two people went up to the temple area to pray;

one was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector.

The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself,

'O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity --

greedy, dishonest, adulterous -- or even like this tax collector.

I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.'

But the tax collector stood off at a distance

and would not even raise his eyes to heaven

but beat his breast and prayed,

'O God, be merciful to me a sinner.'

I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former;

for whoever exalts himself will be humbled,

and the one who humbles himself will be exalted." (Lk 18:9-14)

There is a good lesson here about our own approach to prayer.

International Friendship Bridge

The International Friendship Bridge crosses the Paraná, River, which marks the border between Brazil and Paraguay. The prices of goods are much lower in Paraguay, enticing thousands of shoppers to cross the bridge, many of them on foot, to take advantage of he bargains. Many of the shoppers crossing from Brazil into Paraguay are carrying huge canvas bags or large suitcases which are, like those canvas bags, completely empty. The shoppers returning from Paraguay are also lugging large carryalls and suitcases, but now the bags are bulging with the bargains they're bringing home to Brazil.

You and I can learn something about prayer from these Brazilian bargain hunters streaming across the

bridge into Paraguay with their empty bags and suitcases: These shoppers show up, you might say, empty-handed, with plenty of room to receive the things they hope to buy.

Now look at the two characters in the gospel story. The Pharisee shows up feeling quite full of himself and doesn't really think he needs anything from God. The tax-collector, by contrast, shows up like one of those Brazilian shoppers crossing the International Friendship Bridge with their empty bags: he comes before the Lord empty-handed and needy, asking for nothing but the Lord's mercy.

When Saint Augustine is pondering the mystery of why God does not always answer our prayers, he suggests that our continual prayer and repeated asking have the effect of making our hearts capacius, "roomier." In this way, we will be even more able to receive the grace of God's answer when it finally comes. I can't help thinking of those optimistic shoppers crossing that bridge carrying their huge, empty bags that contain nothing but empty space waiting to be filled.

May the Lord teach each of us how to come before the throne of mercy, how to show up empty.

LEARNING FROM THE WIDOW

PRAYING WITHOUT BECOMING WEARY

The Sunday Gospel for Oct. 16 was the parable of the Widow and the Unjust Judge. Here’s a reflection that I wrote some years ago on this little story.

Sometimes I have the impression that the Lord is in no great hurry to answer my prayers. Judging from the number of parables about bridegrooms who are delayed in coming, and masters who go off on five-year journeys, it would seem that the earliest Christians, too, had a similar experience of waiting impatiently on the Lord. No doubt they lost heart at times, wondering if he was ever going to keep his promise to return on the clouds of heaven.

Luke, knowing the impatience and discouragement of his little community, has Jesus warn the disciples that the end may not come any time soon: "The days will come when you will long to see one of the days of the Son of Man, but you will not see it" (Luke 17:22). The gospel writer follows this saying immediately with an especially powerful little story about perseverance in prayer. "He told them a parable on the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary" (Luke 18:1).

THE PARABLE OF THE WIDOW AND THE JUDGE

The story concerns a corrupt judge and a certain widow.

The judge is part of a judicial system which is rife with bribery and corruption, and which favors the rich and powerful over the weak and the poor. The widow, on the other hand, is in a particularly vulnerable situation, since a woman in those times derived her status completely from her husband. She has no welfare system or Social Security to fall back on, but has to fend for herself as best she can. This is the background, then, for the clash between the widow and the judge.

This particular widow, Jesus tells us, came to the judge demanding her rights. The verb "came" is in the "imperfect" tense, which is Greek's way of showing continued repetition: "she kept coming and coming." We get the picture of a woman constantly badgering the judge until she gets what she wants. The image grows more forceful as the story continues.

Despite the fact that he "fears neither God nor man," the judge finally decides "because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me" (Luke 18:5). This sentence is much more picturesque in the original Greek. It starts with the expression "yet because this widow keeps causing me trouble (kopos), I will give her justice." Kopos, "difficulty, toil," comes from a root which means "chop, hack." It's fun to imagine this powerful judge feeling that he's getting chopped and hacked by this strong-willed widow!

The second half of the sentence follows with another comical image: the judge decides to rule in her favor "lest she finally come and strike (hupōpiazō) me." This verb is used to describe fistfights. Paul applies it to his own spiritual self-discipline: "I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing. No, I drive my body and train (hupōpiazō) it" (I Corinthians 9:27). He toughens his body the way a prizefighter does, by striking it repeatedly to get it in shape. Hupōpiazō is actually a combination of hupo, "under," and ops "the eye," and means literally "to strike below the eye." This is what the judge is afraid the pesky widow may do to him -- sock him in the eye!

This three-sentence parable paints an unforgettable picture of a completely powerless person managing to get her way with a mighty judge. Then Jesus draws the lesson for us: "Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night" (Luke 18:6-7)" "Who call out to him" is a present participle in Greek: "calling out to him day and night." Once again we have the image of constant, ongoing, relentless asking.

My study of hupōpiazō has had an impact on my own approach to prayer. Recently, as I started to bless myself at the end of a few minutes of praying, I felt a bony elbow jab into my ribs. "Hey! Why are you stopping so soon?" rasped an old woman's voice. "You're just getting started!" I sat there mute and mystified. "I'm telling you, go back and ask again!" She was so upset with me that I was afraid she was going to haul off and hit me. "Then after that," she went on, "go back and ask again. Keep asking!" I did go back and ask again. She's returned several more times since then to push me into being more tenacious and persistent in my praying.

Just this morning she stopped me, right in the middle of my prayer. "Listen! Do you really want what you're praying for? Because you sure don't sound like it! You're just rattling on, only half thinking about what you're saying. You ask that way and expect God to answer you? You've got to be kidding!" I just sat there stone-faced, knowing that the widow, as usual, was right. "You've got to throw your whole heart into it!" she continued, "Don't be shy -- that never gets results. Maybe try getting a little loud. You know -- make a scene, let him know you're serious."

St. Benedict's approach to prayer in his Rule for Monks reflects the widow's approach: he usually connects prayer with tears and compunction, and advises us to pray without ceasing. Little by little I have been learning to pray more passionately myself, borrowing a bit of the widow's fiery enthusiasm. I'm not sure how much this kind of praying changes God, but it is certainly changing me. Although the parable does not say that the judge and the widow ended up being good friends, I am sure that if I just keep trying to "pray without growing weary," I will end up in a closer and livelier relationship with God, the just Judge.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS:

-- Most of us have been taught to pray to God tentatively, and to add at the end of our petition some statement like, "However, Lord, if you don't want to grant my request, that's fine too. I will gladly accept whatever it is that you decide to do." How does this laid back, seemingly indifferent approach square with the widow's forceful approach, which was recommended by Jesus himself?

-- Are you comfortable pestering God passionately and repeatedly with a particular request? Do you ever pray that way? If so, what do you pray for? What do you do if your prayer is still not answered?

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A JOB OPENING?

 We know that Saint Paul had this deep, mystical side; he wrote, for example, "It is no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me" and "For me, to live is Christ." But there's his much better known active, missionary side as well. It was this latter side that comes out in a verse that occurred in the first reading at mass this Friday: 

"Thus should one regard us: as servants of Christ..." (1 Cor. 4:1) 

Looking for some food for meditation, I opened to this verse in Paul's original Greek and saw the word for "servant" was huperetes. I wasn't familiar with this word, but a minute's investigation offered me a challenging meditation on my Christian vocation. I share it with you here.

The Greek huperetes is used in a number of ways in the New Testament:

1. an attendant to a king
2. an officer of the Sanhedrin
3. an attendant of a magistrate
4. a temple guard (in John's gospel)

It occurred to me that all of these are pretty active roles often requiring effort, the exercise of responsibility, and, of course accountability.  

I asked myself, "Should I apply for the job as a "servant of Christ?" What sort of work would it involve? What would be my responsibilities? Who would I answer to? What sort of pay is involved? Any benefits?

Not long after asking myself these question I found myself being asked by Christ to help him with certain tasks: A phone call to a friend who is a shut-in. A kind attitude in a difficult discussion with a brother. A smile and a listening ear to a troubled man who came to the monastery's door looking for someone to listen to him.

Now I can look back on these incidents using the criteria listed above for a good "servant of Christ: "effort, the exercise of responsibility, and, of course accountability." So, it seems that like you, I got this job at my baptism, and all through my life I've been at various times a faithful servant or a lax one. 

Let's pray for one another that we can be, to use another word from Paul, "fellow workers" in preaching and building the Kingdom.

A "GREAT" SERVANT

September 3 is the feast of Saint Gregory the Great. He was pope during the 500's, one of the most tumultuous time in the Church's history The center of the Empire had shifted from Rome to Constantinople, which meant a lot of sensitive diplomacy ion the Pope's side. Barbarians were marauding up and down the Italian peninsula, posing a constant threat to the city of Rome and causing the breakdown of the economic, governmental and other systems. The Arian heresy was shattering the Church into warring factions. This was the backdrop of the papacy of Gregory.  

How did the manage to rise above all of this confusions, even chaos far enough to write countless treatises and letters, He left us the first biography of Saint Benedict of Nursia, and wrote a book entitled "On Pastoral Care" which would become the handbook for medieval bishops. It's in this latter book that he leaves us his secret for staying above the chaos all around him:

"A bishop must not neglect his inner life because of the attention he gives to externals; nor must preoccupation with his inner life make him fail to attend to external matters." Gregory assumes that a bishop will spend time in "lofty contemplation" to balance the busyness and stress of his external responsibilities. So, there you hae Gregory's key to holiness.

Talk about a "Servant of God!" 

Pope Saint Gregory the Great, pray for us!