Our Father

A man stands on a busy street corner, arms raised, praying loudly enough for everyone to hear. Heads turn. People nod, impressed. And Jesus says, he's already had his reward.

We're on the hillside in Galilee, in the middle of the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus has been talking about doing good things quietly, for God rather than for an audience. Now he turns to prayer. His listeners pray often. They pray in the synagogue, at home, and at set times through the day. Prayer is part of the rhythm of their lives. So Jesus isn't telling them to start praying. He's telling them how, and why.

“When you pray,” Jesus says, “don't be like the hypocrites. They love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on the street corners, so people will see them.” A hypocrite was a word for an actor, someone wearing a mask on a stage. “I tell you the truth,” Jesus says, “they've already got their reward.” They wanted an audience. They got one. And that's all they got.

“But when you pray, go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father, who is unseen. And your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” Picture a small storeroom in a village house, the door pulled shut, the noise of the street fading. Nobody is watching. Nobody is impressed. It's just you and God. “And when you pray,” Jesus goes on, “don't keep babbling on, as if God will hear you better because of all your words. Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”

“So pray like this.” And Jesus gives them a prayer so short a child can learn it in a week. Our Father in heaven, may your name be honoured as holy. May your kingdom come. May your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven those who owe us. And don't lead us into temptation, but rescue us from the evil one. Notice how it starts. Not with what we want, but with God: his name, his kingdom, his will. Only then come our needs: bread for today, forgiveness, and protection.

And then Jesus comes back to one line, the one about forgiveness, as if he knows it's the hardest. “If you forgive other people when they wrong you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you don't forgive others, your Father won't forgive your wrongs.” It's a serious word. Christians have thought hard about how it fits with God's free grace. But the heart of it is plain enough. People who ask God for mercy are meant to become people who show it.

This prayer caught on fast. An early Christian handbook called the Didache, probably written within a century of Jesus, gives the Lord's Prayer and tells believers to pray it three times every day. There's a puzzle inside it too. The Greek word behind daily, in daily bread, is almost unknown outside this prayer. Translators have wondered for centuries whether it means bread for today, bread for tomorrow, or the bread we need. The ancient scholar Origen thought the Gospel writers may have coined it.

Our Father. You'll find it in Matthew chapter 6, verses 5 to 15. Jesus didn't give a long speech about prayer. He gave a door, a few honest words, and a Father on the other side. So here's a question to carry with you. When you close the door, what will you say to him?