July 27, 2025

Yes, I’ll say a few words about the Hosea reading. It wasn’t uncommon in the prophetic tradition for the prophets to receive instructions from God to do certain things that had symbolic meaning for their prophetic calling and for their audience. Thus, Jeremiah was told to buy a field as a symbol of God’s promise that the people would continue to inhabit the promised land. Similarly, Ezekiel was told not to mourn his wife’s death.

In the case of Hosea, however, it is rather extreme, even offensive. He is told to take a prostitute as a wife, and to give his children names that spelled out God’s displeasure with the people. There’s no way around this, and what seems to be a deeply misogynistic text, and problematic marriage, is just that. It should offend our sensibilities and challenge us to think deeply and uncomfortably about all the ways in which scripture and our religious traditions can continue to support and advance deeply oppressive and unjust systems. While there is much more one could say about Hosea and the prophetic tradition, I’ll leave it at that and turn our attention to the gospel reading.

“Lord, teach us to pray.” I wonder if there is any question asked by the disciples that breaks my heart more than this simple request. They have been walking with Jesus for months, learning from him, receiving power to heal just as he healed. They had seen him praying. In the gospel of Luke, one of the key aspects of Jesus’ depiction is the emphasis on prayer, Jesus praying at particularly difficult moments, going off by himself. They had seen all that but they didn’t know how to pray.

I sympathize with them. I don’t know how to pray. And regularly lay people come to me asking about prayer, looking for instruction or guidance. As Anglicans, we’re fortunate because in the Book of Common Prayer, we have a treasury of prayer. There are the psalms, of course, which are the prayers of God’s people going back 2 and a half millennia and more, speaking for us, across all those centuries.

Though the Book of Common Prayer is rather newer, dating from the mid-16^th century, it too has roots that go back much further. When Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, created it, he drew on centuries of monastic practice and common liturgical forms. Take the collect I prayed this morning. It is originally from a liturgical book that was sent by the Pope to Charlemagne around the year 800, and provided the basis for much of the Roman liturgy throughout the Middle Ages. Cranmer translated it, lightly edited it, and it has been used ever since.

I know that the Book of Common Prayer is relatively unfamiliar to many of you. Unless you attend our Rite I service at 8:00 regularly when you are directed to page numbers for the liturgy, for the most part we print all or most of our liturgy in the service bulletin. Indeed, in this season after Pentecost, our 10:00 worship diverges considerably from what’s printed in the BCP, as we’re using the expansive language version of Prayer C.

Still, there’s much more in the BCP than the Eucharist services. They start on  page 323 or 355, after all. There’s the psalter, of course, the ancient prayers of God’s people which can continue to speak to and us, and speak to God for us. 

The psalter comes near the end of the BCP. It begins, however, with the Daily Office, Morning and Evening Prayer. As with the Eucharist, there are two versions of each. Rite I, is traditional language, with “Thees and Thous.”  Rite II, is more contemporary language, at least as contemporary as it was 50 years ago. Cranmer adapted the monastic hours for lay people, condensing the 6 or 9 daily prayer services of monasticism into 2 services, intended for use by ordinary people. As printed in the BCP, the service is rather complicated to follow. Fortunately there are apps like Venite, which I refer to in the bulletin, that lay it all out for you. 

The next major section, and important for our purposes today are the collects, in traditional and contemporary language versions. There are collects appointed for every Sunday and feast day, and if you leaf through the collection, you will also find collects for various occasions. They are succinct prayers that follow a specific form, and are meant to help us gather our thoughts and focus our attention. They often express profound theological and spiritual insights and are worth paying close attention to and meditating on.

Interspersed throughout the BCP are other collects that can speak to particular situations, and speak for us in times of need: for example, in the Rite for the Ministration to the Sick, there are prayers that may be of comfort during illness and recovery (beginning p. 457). 

Another collection of prayers begins on p. 814. Again, leafing through the section, you’ll find prayers for all sorts of situtations, for various groups of people. As I said at the outset, the Book of Common Prayer is a treasure house of prayer, and it is my hope that you learn to rely on it as you cultivate your own life of prayer.

There’s much more to prayer than reading prayers that were written 50 or 500 or 1500 years ago. Like any spiritual discipline, like any discipline, developing a rich prayer life takes practice, time, and energy. 

Many of you know that my wife and I are ballroom dancers. We take lessons regularly; we work on routines; we pay for coaching with other instructors. Last January, we went to three-day dance camp in Florida; we expect to do so again in 2026. Still, I’m hardly a proficient dancer and my teacher regularly encourages me to practice more. But if I spent as much time and energy on my prayer life as I spend dancing, I wonder what it would be like; what rich depths of relationship I would be experiencing with God in Christ.

And I know it can be frustrating, when we can’t find the words to pray, adequate language to express our needs to God. We may wonder what we should be praying for, whether what we’re asking God is something we deserve. 

Perhaps the key element in the Lord’s Prayer, the words our Lord taught us, are the first two words: “Our Father…” We may even balk at the patriarchy that is expressed there but at its heart is relationship. And ultimately, that’s what prayer is. It’s not that Jesus was the first to address God as Father, Abba, in Aramaic; but his prayer life seems to have been particularly intimate, a deep relationship with God. And with “Our Father…” he is inviting us into that relationship as well. Paul tells us that early Christians, even those whose language was Greek, not Aramaic, addressed God as “Abba” in their prayers, testimony to the importance of that intimate relationship and the desire to cultivate an even deeper relationship with God like Jesus had.

Whatever words you use, however you pray, deepening that relationship with God should be the goal of your prayer life. And remember, that when words can’t come to you, when words don’t come to you, prayer is still possible. Paul also reminds us that the Holy Spirit intervenes on our behalf, “in sighs too deep for words.” 

Lord, teach us to pray!