CowPi Journal

The Our Father is to prayer what Christ is to humanity. (Simone Weil)

A couple weeks ago, I discovered by accident(?) this marvelous book in the back a small gift shop, The Prayer of Fire: Experiencing the Lord’s Prayer by Lorraine Kisly. As a blurb on the back cover says, “This is a book on prayer that rings with the spirit of prayer.”

The whole of the prayer relates the human and divine in the present moment, a present that includes “now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.” Each petition of the prayer orients us towards this eternal now. While each phrase is indeed a petition, it is not a petition in the sense of a request to be granted in the future. The prayer reveals all as the will of God, and asks us to apprehend and to be aligned with what this divine will intends. This becomes clearer when we reaffirm the petitions, recognizing the ever-present work of God:

Our Father who art in heaven—
may we know thy love

Hallowed be Thy name—
may we see thy glory

Thy kingdom come—
may we enter it

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven—
may we obey it

Give us our daily bread—
may we take and eat with thanksgiving

And forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors—
may we receive thy mercy as we forgive others

And lead us not into temptation—
may we forsake ourselves and seek you

But deliver us from evil—
may our trust in you keep us from the way of deah and grant us life.

Amen.

Sorrow prepares you for joy.

It violently sweeps everything out of your house,
   so that new joy can find space to enter.

It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart,
   so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place.

It pulls up the rotten roots,
   so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow.

Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart,
   far better things will take their place.

— Rumi

It helps, now and then, to step back
and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own. Amen.

— Archbishop Oscar Romero

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, “Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.”

The Lord led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew which smelled delicious and made the holy man’s mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly.

They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful, but because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering.

The Lord said, “You have seen Hell.”

They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man’s mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.

The holy man said, “I don’t understand.”

It is simple” said the Lord, “it requires but one skill. You see, they have learned to feed each other. While the greedy think only of themselves. “A friend is someone who reaches for your hand, and touches your heart.”

“People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don’t need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there.”

— Author unknown (Thanks Angelica)