Reading
The
reading this morning comes from a sermon from Martin Luther King, Jr., in which
he recounts his kitchen table call. As
King was organizing the Montgomery Bus Boycott, he received a telephone call in
the middle of the night. On the other
end of the line was a Klansman who told him to leave town within three days or else
they would kill him and blow up his house.
King recalls,
“I’d heard these things before, but for some
reason that night it got to me. I turned over and I tried to go to sleep, but I
couldn’t sleep. I was frustrated, bewildered. And then I got up and went back
to the kitchen and I started warming some coffee, thinking that coffee would
give me a little relief. And then I started thinking about many things. I
pulled back on the theology and philosophy that I had just studied in the
universities, trying to give philosophical and theological reasons for the
existence and the reality of sin and evil, but the answer didn’t quite come
there. I sat there and thought about a beautiful little daughter who had just
been born about a month earlier. We have four children now, but we only had one
then. She was the darling of my life. I’d come in night after night and see
that little gentle smile. And I sat at that table thinking about that little
girl and thinking about the fact that she could be taken away from me any
minute. And I started thinking about a dedicated, devoted, and loyal wife who
was over there asleep. And she could be taken from me, or I could be taken from
her. And I got to the point that I couldn’t take it any longer; I was weak.
Something said to me, you can’t call on Daddy now, he’s up in Atlanta a hundred
and seventy-five miles away. You can’t even call on Mama now. You’ve got to
call on that something in that person that your Daddy used to tell you about.
That power that can make a way out of no way. And I discovered then that
religion had to become real to me and I had to know God for myself. And I bowed
down over that cup of coffee—I never will forget it. And oh yes, I prayed a
prayer and I prayed out loud that night. I said, ‘Lord, I’m down here trying to
do what’s right. I think I’m right; I think the cause that we represent is
right. But Lord, I must confess that I’m weak now; I’m faltering; I’m losing my
courage. And I can’t let the people see me like this because if they see me
weak and losing my courage, they will begin to get weak...’ And it seemed at that moment that I could hear
an inner voice saying to me, ‘Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness, stand
up for justice, stand up for truth. And ‘lo I will be with you, even until the
end of the world.’”
Sermon
The
progressive Christian thinker Marcus Borg has written about different ways of
reading the prophets of the Hebrew Bible.
The prophets include figures like Isaiah and Jeremiah, Amos and
Micah. The prophets are bold and disruptive
religious figures who challenge the kings and the priests, the legal and
religious authorities of the day, to change their ways. The prophets claim to have received a message
from God, that they are God’s messenger, and that God is telling the kings and
priests to change their ways.
Marcus
Borg writes that when the religiously orthodox read the prophets they make the
mistake of focusing only on the vertical dimension of their message. They focus entirely on what the prophecies
say that God will do in the future, but ignore the issues of justice that are
immediate. But, Borg also writes that
when liberals read the prophets, they make the mistake of focusing only on the
horizontal dimensions of the message. They
focus only the social commandments and ignore the larger religious significance
of the prophets’ message.
Borg
goes on to conclude that the prophets ought to be read
multi-dimensionally. There needs to be
both the horizontal dimension of social concern and the vertical dimension of
ultimate concern. Borg writes, “Now I am
convinced that experiences of the sacred do happen, that the prophets had such
experiences, and that such experiences were foundational for what they were,
said, and did.” This sentence seems to
just as easily describe Martin Luther King’s kitchen table call.
Like
reality itself, we might think of religion as having multiple dimensions. We might think of religion as having a
horizontal dimension: its ethics, social teachings, and vision of
community. Religion also has a vertical
dimension: the sense of awe, wonder, and
ultimacy it generates. And, religion has
a depth dimension too, that ability to help people to become deeply
introspective and to cultivate a rich inner life. If time is the fourth dimension, we might say
that religion’s fourth dimension has to do with history and the future, with origins
and destinations. I’ll leave it to the
string theorists and post-modern theologians to identify other dimensions
beyond space and time.
When
I say that religion is multi-dimensional, I am of course speaking in
metaphor. There are certain metaphors
that we can use to describe ways in which our own life lacks fullness. We might say that we are feeling flat, that our patience is wearing thin, that our connections are shallow, or that we are narrow-minded. Flat, thin, shallow, narrow – lacking in some
important dimension. We know what the opposite
is like, what it means, as Thoreau put it, to live deep and cut a broad
swath. Wide, broad, thick, deep –
multi-dimensional.
This
ability to imagine life multi-dimensionally is essential to my message about
prayer for Unitarian Universalists. Prayer
means different things to different people in this church. Some of us do pray, though we pray in different
ways. Others of us meditate or reflect
or contemplate or do yoga or create art or take a walk in nature. Some of us have deep habits of prayer. Others may try to pray from time to time, and
find it frustrating or embarrassing.
Others may try to avoid prayer, might even find themselves looking out
the window during the time of prayer each week in church, might spend the
silent time composing a grocery list while hoping that this time part of the
service ends quickly. You know who you
are.
On
the one hand, it is probable that we’ve encountered things in our life that
have turned us off from prayer. We’ve
encountered prayers that are selfish; “Please, God, let me win the
lottery.” We’ve encountered prayers that
are shallow; “Please, God, let me find a parking space.” We’ve encountered prayers that are
aggravating; God does not care if you score that touchdown. Some of us may come here with some
existential angst about prayer. One
person who prays to be healed recovers while another person who prays to be
healed does not recover. Does God answer
some prayers but not others? Does God
only answer prayers if the correct formula of words is spoken? How can some people claim that their prayers
are answered, when the most desperate prayers of countless people suffering
from unspeakable devastation go unanswered?
Has this ever been a struggle for any of you? A stumbling block? Has the thought of prayer ever left a bad
taste in your mouth?
On
the other hand, let’s look at the contradictory evidence. If it is your inclination to be dismissive of
prayer, what about those times when prayer seems to make a major
difference? Consider Martin Luther
King’s kitchen table call, or Gandhi’s fasts, or Jesus’ going into the desert
to pray. These prayers are of a
different sort.
A
few minutes ago I read from Martin Luther King’s account of his kitchen table
call, his prayer offered on one sleepless night as he was leading the
Montgomery bus boycott. This may seem to
belabor the point, but notice that his prayer was not directed outwardly. He did not say, “Dear God, please change the
hearts and minds of the mayor and the members of the city council.” He said, change me. I’m weak, I’m faltering, and I’m losing my
courage. Help me to be stronger, steadier,
and bolder.
I
find that when I pray, my prayers are mostly of this sort. The prayer is that I may be reconnected with
my true self and with the better angels of my nature. There are many forms to this prayer: help me
to speak my truth boldly or help me to listen attentively; help me to be
courageous or help me to be tender; help me to be steadfast or help me to be flexible;
help me to be understanding or help me to be direct; help me to be honest and
help me to preserve my own integrity. The prayer isn’t for anything to change,
except, of course, myself.
I
want to give you an example of this. It
is a recent example, and it isn’t that glorious. This year’s Unitarian Universalist
Association General Assembly was held in Phoenix, Arizona, about two months
ago. It was a justice General Assembly
that focused largely on the injustice of our nation’s broken immigration
system. We were asked to examine a whole
host of justice issues, including racial justice, economic justice,
globalization, colonialism, and empire, environmental justice, criminal justice,
and more. During the General Assembly
experience we traveled to hold a vigil outside Sheriff Arpaio’s Tent City Jail
as a form of witness against the human rights violations that are perpetrated
under Sheriff Arpaio’s watch. Before we
went to the vigil, we all gathered for a time of spiritual practice and
preparation. We learned a little bit,
sang together, prayed together, and reminded ourselves about the behavioral
expectations we had for our time together.
We were not to engage the counter demonstrators bearing racist signs and
brandishing fire arms. We were not to
act aggressively towards the cops in riot gear outfits. We were not to get ourselves arrested. We were not to treat our fellow Unitarian
Universalists unkindly either.
So,
a few thousand Unitarian Universalists, despite the 103 degree heat, and
despite the uncomfortable school buses of which there were not nearly enough,
and despite standing all cramped together with a razor wire fence on one side
and police barricades on the other side, all managed to behave peacefully and
patiently and positively. And, I think prayer
had something to do with it.
Martin
Luther King called on those marching in Selma and elsewhere to meet physical
force with soul force, and prayer – whether spoken or sung – played a major
role in making these acts of non-violent civil disobedience a success. What those freedom marchers had to endure was
exponentially more trying than the worst-case scenario for us in Phoenix. It is amazing to think of the strength of
those marchers facing fire hoses, police dogs, and batons with such courage,
such soul force.
Soren
Kierkegaard is reported to have said, “The function of prayer is not to
influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.” A contemporary UU minister made this saying a
bit catchier by saying, “Prayer doesn’t change things, but prayer does change
people and people change things.” Prayer
does change people. Prayer can evoke
soul force.
It
has been asked, “Does prayer work?” I
think it is worth reframing this question.
From time to time, scientists have done studies on the efficacy of intercessory
prayer, in which people prayed for other people to heal more quickly. Some number of years ago, there was one study
in particular that led researchers to report that being prayed for was
correlated with healing, but then other scientists called the study into
question and the findings were reversed.
But, while nobody has proved that prayer changes the object that is
being prayed for, it is beyond doubt that prayer changes the subject that is
engaged in prayer.
There
are a couple of things that I might say about prayer in general as well as a
couple suggestions if prayer interests you.
I think the first thing to note is that many Unitarian Universalists get
hung up on the question of who or what is being prayed to exactly. To that, I would offer a couple of different
answers. I believe that prayer can be an
intransitive verb. It is a verb that
doesn’t really need an object. It is not
necessary to pray to anything. One can
simply pray. Take care of your own side
of the street, as they say.
A
second thing I might say about prayer is that it can feel foolish, awkward, or
embarrassing. I would add that if you
feel self-conscious, you’re probably doing it right. That is kind of the point, to become
self-conscious, to let down your guard be honest and authentic. I think Jesus is absolutely right when he said
that prayer is best done as private devotion, not as public demonstration, and
that prayer is not about showing off your skills as a poet.
People
who have written about prayer mostly focus on it having about four parts: praise, thanksgiving, confession, and asking. Those are the core four. Depending on what resource you go to, you’ll
find that all kinds of synonyms are used for those aspects of prayer, and that writers
have tried forcing it into catchy acronyms.
Praise
involves a sense of awe, wonder, mystery, and respect. I believe that it is just as possible to
praise what is natural as it is to praise what is supernatural. God, goddess, great spirit, source of life,
the Holy, the cosmos, the human spirit – the point of praise is to understand
that there is something bigger than you are.
Thanksgiving
follows naturally from praise.
Thanksgiving is basically taking an inventory of the good things, and
especially the good people, in your life.
Confession
does not mean beating yourself up. It
means being honest with what you’re struggling with. In King’s kitchen table prayer, he says, that
he is weak, faltering, and losing his courage.
Finally, there is asking, the articulation of the desire for resolution, for
wholeness.