SUMMER 2012 Considering how much of Jesus’s recorded ministry on earth was taken up praying for somebody’s healing, and considering that, as his followers, we probably ought to be doing some of that, these questions seem relevant. As we analyze the language we use, what’s the difference among 1. Do you mind if I pray for you?”, 2. I’d like to pray for you—is that OK?”, 3. “May I pray for you?”, and 4. “I’m going to pray for you.”? Subtle but vital distinctions present themselves. Are we hesitant in asking, even almost ashamed, half-expecting a “no”? Do we feel apologetic in asking? Are we too forthright, announcing our intention without considering the other’s feelings? Or is it a simple request, with no hidden meaning whatsoever? Are these just differences in style, or do they reveal something about us and our faith? Perhaps the most important of all, do we ever even think about, or offer, to pray for someone who needs healing? Is this important? Is it just too much to expect? Each new experience of God’s grace seems to add to my gratitude to him for my life, and the wonders I continue to experience all around me. Betsy and I live in a cabin on Walker Mountain. Driving up the winding one-lane road requires fording a stream which has a bumpy bottom and is a couple of inches deep in dry weather, half a foot more when the rains pour. The water bubbles down the mountain from high up among trees, crosses the rocky road under a wooden foot bridge casting a mild spray on our feet, tumbles over rocks on its way down the mountain, only to disappear among even more trees. It makes an almost imperceptible rushing sound, just to let us know it’s there. And it’s been doing the same thing for MILLIONS OF YEARS! Isn’t that the way God’s grace comes to us? It flows into our lives, active, purposeful. It gets our attention by making sure we feel it, does its work, then bubbles on in a never-ending stream. It can always be counted upon; it’s always there. When the weather gets rough, there’s more of it to carry us through. And even if we choose to ignore it, we can’t get where we’re going without coming in contact with it. God seems to take every opportunity to remind me of his grace; I only have to stay aware! Serving at the altar recently, I was suddenly struck with a huge paradox. When Jesus said “This is my body, broken for you; each time you do this, do it in my memory,” He was essentially giving his lads—and, by extension, us—a portion of his tortured dying flesh. And yet we have the audacity to call this ceremony “Eucharist,” which is “thanksgiving” in Greek. Are we giving thanks for his agony? Hardly! I suspect we’re celebrating what He did for us, as gruesome as it must have been for him. It’s utterly astounding that anyone would walk into a suicide trap—sure death by torture. If we are to believe what we hear, He did this for each of us. Was He insane? Who among us would EVER consider doing that for anyone? Yet He did it willingly. No wonder we fall on our knees and call him Lord! Do we stop and think? Tucked away in the sixth chapter of St. Mark’s Gospel, following the oft-quoted “Prophets are not without honor except in their hometown...” is the innocuous-sounding sentence “He could do no deed of power there, except that He laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.” No deed of power, indeed! What on earth do you call it when someone lays your hands on you and heals you? ********** “Pray ceaselessly,” St. Paul commands in his letter to the Philippians. He doesn’t say “often,” or “most of the time.” He wants us to be in a constant state of prayer. I’m wondering how many of us are capable of this, or how practical it is. When do we sleep? When do we talk to each other? ********** “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood will abide in me,” We rely on this as our Eucharist. Do we ever consider the words literally? No wonder some Muslims wonder if we’re cannibals! Does it matter whether we take these words literally, or whether, as Arlene so beautifully explained to us in a recent sermon, we let their power change us? ******* As we read—or hear—or recite—these words, and many others, from Holy Scripture, do we understand what the words mean to us—or do we just let them go in one ear and out the other? Do we really stop and think? In Eucharistic Prayer C, on page 370 of the Book of Common Prayer, we find those words of gratitude: “you...blessed us with memory, reason, and skill.” One can hardly disagree. But I’ve wondered why the composers of this prayer didn’t acknowledge one more blessing, without which the first three would, in my view, be cold and sterile. In fact, they could be used in brilliant but evil ways against us or our fellow man [or woman—we are NOT sexist!]. It gives purpose to all our other blessings, and enriches the quality of our lives beyond compare. And indeed He has blessed us with it, and continues to bless us with it, asking only that we recognize and utilize it. All mental illness, all strife between persons and nations, all manifestations of greed, envy, and hate, are due to our ignoring this precious gift, ours for the asking. What is it, you ask? It’s the capacity to love—him, each other, and his creation. It’s the ground of our being, the salvation of our souls, and using it is his greatest commandment! Now why didn’t those composers think of that? Did you?