The Prayer’s The Thing

He said to them, “When you pray, say:

Father, hallowed be your name.

Your kingdom come.

Give us each day our daily bread.

And forgive us our sins,

for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.

And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

I had a conversation with a friend recently, about Titus Andronicus, one of Shakespeare’s least-performed plays. It reads like the script for a Tarantino movie, or one of the bloodier episodes of Game of Thrones, with virtually every one of the characters enduring a violent death. The tale is grotesque.

I’ve seen a lot of wonderful Shakespeare performances, and revelled in reading a great deal more, but have never – until now – touched this play. If I had read Titus first, I may well have consigned The Bard to the bin. I would have missed Puck’s mischief, Falstaff’s roistering humour, Macbeth’s malevolence, Lear’s insanity and the tragedy of the star-cross’d lovers, Juliet and her Romeo.

I love Shakespeare, because there is no one direction in which to point, and some places, like Titus, require a detour.

In this climate of debate about faith and fear and fundamentalism, people make claims about other faith traditions which often reflect the limits of their experience. They hear a sensational story and form their opinion from exaltation or despair.

In the same way, we can’t form theology, or law, or make life-changing decisions, based purely on anecdotes. In our world, when it feels like we hear of tragedies every day, we need to be able to think clearly. Our reaction can’t only be about our fear, or someone else’s violence. A recent director of Titus Andronicus argued that it best reflects – of all Shakespeare’s plays – the violent actions of our world right now, and our thirst for revenge and honour.

If I am selective from scripture, I can randomly argue that God is creative, or destructive, or healing, or violent, or forgiving, or vengeful, or loving, or absent, or present. We all know that there is more to the story than a single anecdote. Jesus’ ministry is not one moment of blessing or healing, it is a consistent event of hope, for the least and everyone else.

This prayer Jesus offered his disciples – and us – is the best known bit of anything Jesus said. The least-churched among us can often recite a version of these words, usually at wedding, or funeral, or hospital bedside. It echoes everything Jesus said, did and is.

It is not only a supplication for God to sort things out. It is a declaration of the character of God, to feed and forgive. In praying this prayer, we affirm the character of God in Jesus Christ; by praying this prayer we identify ourselves as participants in God’s purposes.

This astonishing affirmation stands opposed to violence, which destroys; Jesus declares forgiveness, which creates and restores. When Jesus asks for bread, he asks on behalf of all those who hunger – for food and for justice, which almost always sit hand in hand.

Our time of trial is before us. Shall we be tempted by Titus Andronicus and his destructions, or shall we embrace the hope that in Jesus Christ, God has answered our fears? This kingdom of God is about the life we find in Christ and offer, in hope, to others.