Pray it like you stole it
Using Brueggemann’s Great Prayers of the Old Testament (2008), we’ll look at nine instances of God’s faithful people in dialogue with the Deity, and discern how they can inform our own lives of dialogue with Same. (Sent copies of this book to Rev. Dawson and Ryan.)
The Israelites’ Primitive Prayer. The enslaved Israelites cry out in urgent pain to a god they do not know. God “hears,” “remembers,” “looks,” “sees,” i.e. is responsive to their unutterable suffering. We’ll use material from Brueggemann’s conclusion, esp. the “anti-omni” nature of prayer. (For reflection station: christen and lay hands on the Pride float. Open the garage doors and roll it right in.)
Abraham’s Audacious Prayer. Abraham presumes God’s (possible) mercy, challenging God’s assessment of the situation. What if we worried less about who’s “going to heaven” or “going to hell” and instead prayed assertively for the salvation of all, even if only a few are righteous? This is Barth’s hopeful universalism.
Moses’s Intercessory Prayer. Moses reminds God of God’s primary character traits – “This is who you are, right?” Review Moses’s long history of contention with God, all those argumentative prayers. Is it possible Moses cares more for Israel than God does? (Brueggemann’s question.) So Moses intercedes for his beloved Israel. For whom do we intercede with deep love and affection?
Hannah’s Gloating Thanksgiving. This is not the anemic #blessed prayer of weak thanks for small favors, but a chest-thumping end zone dance. (Maybe for a reflection station, we should make up one of our own?) (Show that video of the kids who all get a special greeting from their teacher.) “What is happening to me now is squarely within the grid of God’s gracious work of generating justice!”
David’s Prayer from Privilege. David has won; David will keep on winning. How do you pray from the tippy-top of the social pyramid? What does the prayer of the privileged sound like? Brueggemann identifies a 3-part outline: doxology (God is great), deference (I am not so great), and demand (“And now…”). There is audacious self-interest in it, but it comes from God’s greatness, not your own. (Elizabeth Arnold’s baptism this week.)
Solomon’s Healing Admission. Solomon is ruthless in his ascent to the throne; there are bodies strewn across the land. (Think Game of Thrones.) But when he gets in office, he reports this dream-prayer, confessing his deep humility and renewed innocence – “I am but a lad.” Is he suffering from imposter syndrome? Or offering the land a healing moment, the way our own presidential winners do in the SOTU address? Doesn’t matter – God honors the self-assessment. (Note: it is not long-lived, this humility. We can do better.)
Jeremiah’s WTF?! Prayer. God tells Jeremiah to buy (expensive) property while he’s a political prisoner, and while his land is being occupied ruthlessly. It makes no sense. Jeremiah is obedient, making the nonsense investment and talking about it. There is a requirement of foolishness to follow God’s call. Do the foolish, faithful thing – and then pray it out: “Look at me! You made me do this!” See if you get an answer, and if it turns out for good. This is a long-term faith investment.
Ezra’s Absolute (Corporate) Confession. The confession of the priest of Israel’s remnant is thorough: “Here we are, in guilt, in need.” It is corporate: “We have done.” Of course each did, but each is part of the all that acquiesces to a new norm (in this case, tolerance of intermarriage with Gentiles). The complication in this story, of course, is their idea of sin and its remedy: intermarriage, such that women and children are expelled from the community. Is it possible that our contemporary understandings of corporate turning from God’s ways (what God wants) could be prayed out Ezra’s way, with new understanding of what constitutes the turning away? Could the form of Ezra’s prayer still stand?
The Prayerful Life is a Benedictory Life. Learning how to talk with God helps us understand how to talk to our fellow human beings. We become a prayerful blessing for our neighbors. Listen to “A Living Prayer” by Alison Kraus.