There’s a sweet rarely sung hymn in our hymnal that addresses Christ’s Eternal Spirit in these words: “I know not how to ask or what to say: I only know my need as deep as life, and only you can teach me how to pray.” I first heard it many years ago at St. John the Evangelist, Bowdoin Street, in Boston.
In all of the readings today we find the issue of prayer emerging. Esther’s request, her petition to the king is to let her life be given me—“that is my petition-- and the lives of my people-- that is my request,” she asks.
The disciples are questioning the authenticity of someone not in their company who was praying to cast out demons. Then In the letter of James we find the Christian community getting instructions about prayer and, especially, prayer for healing and it is this passage among others that have become the foundation for the healing ministry long present in the Episcopal Church.
Prayer is a mysterious entity. For what should we pray? I’m guessing that these days we all have a list. There are the more personal needs like our family members, our friends, even ourselves if we are dealing with sickness or even life-threatening illnesses. Too, there are the crises that emerge in families around divorce, addiction, financial disasters.
And we are faced every day with situations that leave us feeling utterly helpless: the never-ending mass shootings, children and teachers being gunned down, the horrible, disastrous hurricane that has claimed lives and destroyed hundreds of homes in the south, the expanding and potentially explosive war in the Middle East, the desolation of lives of Palestinians. There is no end to situations that can be shouting out for prayer.
Rage and acrimony are in the air. The election season is fueling and exacerbating an existent angst in the larger society. Rage is quite common on airplanes, roadways, bleachers, college campuses, and the halls of government. Where, oh where, is the “peace that passes all understanding?” Oh, yes, there is no end to the things for which we want to pray.
But does it work? I am sure that we’ve all celebrated those miracle moments when a loved one’s test results bring news of healing, even complete remission from some very serious illness or a couple struggling in their relationship seek counsel and are reconciled or a friend who suffers from addiction gets into recovery and is faithful to working that program. These are what we might call “resurrection” experiences.
But…what about the times when we think our prayer is in vain, when we don’t get the result for which we have prayed and prayed.
It is in these hard to swallow moments that the words of the hymn 698 can either comfort or further distress us: “Come, pray with me the prayer I need this day; help me to see your purpose and your will.” God’s purpose and will—thy will be done. That’s the rub I’m sure is a familiar experience. Prayer is a mysterious entity.
Yet in the dark times and winters of our lives are we not like Thomas when asked by Jesus in the Gospel a few weeks ago “do you also want to leave,” who responded “Lord, to whom can we go?” Indeed, in those times of utter distress and angst, to whom else can we go.
This brings me to the Gospel’s last few lines and the curious thing about Jesus’ reference to salt and our saltiness.
An ancient king once asked his three daughters how much they loved him. One daughter said she loved him more than all the gold in the world. One said she loved him more than all the silver in the world. The youngest daughter said she loved him more than salt.
The king was not pleased with this answer. But the cook overheard the conversation, so the next day he prepared a good meal for the king, but left out the salt. The food was so insipid that the king couldn't eat it. Then he understood what his daughter meant. He understood the value of salt.
In the ancient world salt was a valuable and scarce commodity. It was used as currency in some countries even into modern times. During an invasion of Ethiopia, in the late 19th century, Italian soldiers found blocks of salt stored in bank vaults along with other familiar forms of currency. When Jesus tells us to have salt in ourselves, essentially calling us disciples “salt,” he is paying us a compliment.
Jesus is telling us that we matter, that he values us, and that the work we do in the world is extremely vital and life-giving: our ministry of service, our prayer and worship, our commitment to following the guidance of James and continuing the ancient practice of anointing for healing any and all maladies and difficulties. The exhortation for us is right there in the letter of James: “Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.” Well, many of us are sure the elders of the church. All off this adds great flavor to our lives and the lives of all those we touch.
There will be times when we are suffering hardships, and we can do nothing but pray and there will be those times when the answer to our prayer makes us want to sing praises, maybe even do the dance of joy. Our Christian life is, indeed, a mixed bag — full of mystery and bewilderment and amazement. Add a little salt for good measure.
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