Homily

In the gospels we often read that Jesus went off to solitary places to pray. Sometimes Jesus himself tells the disciples what he is going to do, like on that dramatic evening in the Garden of Olives. "Sit here while I go over there and pray," Jesus said to his three closest friends. There is no doubt that the apostles were touched by the way Jesus prayed. Luke tells us that one day after he had finished praying, Jesus’ disciples came up to him and asked, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples." The question could also be understood as, "Lord, teach us to pray as you do." In fact, every prophet (including John) taught his followers a method of praying. Jesus’ disciples were struck by how their Teacher prayed, by his going to solitary places, but were especially impressed by his way of talking to God, and they insisted that he teach them to pray in the same way. There was a sense of intimacy and trust in their Teacher’s prayer that astonished them. They had never seen anyone pray with such intimacy and trust.
Together with the disciples today we ask, "Lord, teach us to pray!" This is not a request for a generic lesson about prayer. It is the same question that the disciples asked back then: how can we talk to God as Jesus did? How can we stand in God’s presence and converse with him in such a trusting way that we can call him "father?" And Jesus immediately answers us too, "When you pray, say ‘Father, Abba, Dad." We know how shocking these words were in a context where no one even dared call God by his name. Jesus went as far as calling the Lord who created heaven and earth "Dad." Every distance is wiped away; God is no longer far away, he is the father of all and everyone can turn to him directly without needing any mediator. This was a true religious revolution. In the word "Father, Dad" Jesus reveals to us the mystery of Jesus’ God, the mystery of our God. On one side there is the trust and the intimacy of the son towards the Father, and on the other side the protective tenderness of the Father towards every one of us. In some ways it is a return to the friendship found at the beginning of time, when God walked with Adam and Eve in the garden. What counts in prayer is the intimacy and spontaneity of our relationship with God. The problem is not found in our location or our words but in our heart, our interiority, and our friendship with God.
So it was for Abraham, our father in the faith. The dialogue that he had with God when he interceded to save Sodom after it fell into licentiousness and disorder is a powerful example. God says to himself, "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?" In other words, "I cannot keep my intentions hidden from my friend." God’s friendship is transparent and sincere. He is the one who comes to Abraham and confides in him, "How great is the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah and how very grave their sin?" But Abraham set himself before God; he "came near," Scripture says. We need to come near to the Lord and show him the tragedies, the problems, and the hopes of many. Abraham began the long intercession with these words, "Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city?" And the Lord responds, "If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will forgive the whole place for their sake." Again Abraham asks, "Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five?" God answers, "I will not destroy it if I find forty-five there." And Abraham says, "Suppose forty are found there?" and so on, down to ten.
When we hear this dramatic prayer, we think of the many cities and countries that are ravaged by war and injustice, by hunger and violence: they all need an Abraham to intercede for them. There is need of many friends of God who pray insistently so that our cities may be saved and the gospel touches the hearts of men and women. The voices of such friends reach God’s ears, because God is the friend of humanity. He seems to do nothing but listen to his friends. Jesus underscores this fact by offering two extreme examples taken from daily life: a friend who comes at midnight and a father who will never give a snake to the child who asks for a fish. And he concludes: "If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!" (This is a way of explaining God’s limitless generosity in answering our prayers. The words are not what make the prayer: it is our heart, our trust, our insistence and our perseverance in praying that count. The ineffectiveness of prayer does not come from God; it comes from our little faith in him. If we ask it will be given to us; if we search we will find; and if we knock at God’s heart, like Abraham, the Lord will turn his gaze to us.