17^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, C           July 29, 2007

An old adage states, “Beware what you pray for; you might get it.”  Does this apply even to Jesus’ own prayer, the Our Father?  At first glance we might conclude not.  There’s not much risk in asking for our daily bread or in praying that God forgive us, or praying that we not be led into temptation.  We’d love to receive our sustenance, and forgiveness, and be spared spiritual trials.  But beyond that, the Lord’s Prayer can make us uneasy.

For example, “As we forgive those who trespass against us.”  Forgive us as we forgive others, we pray.  Wow!  Do you know what you might be saying?  Dear Father, there is a condition placed on your forgiveness.  You forgive only if I forgive.  You forgive stingily if I forgive stingily.  You forgive generously only if I forgive generously.  So, you might find yourself praying the Lord’s Prayer and meaning by it, Father, do not forgive me because I am holding a grudge against so and so, and I refuse to forgive because of what that person did to me.  Beware what you pray for; you might get it!  What a risky prayer Jesus taught us!  May we not succumb to its dangers, but may we know its blessings as we open our hearts in forgiveness to all who have hurt us and all who would harm us if they had a chance.

Then there are the three seemingly innocuous words, “Your kingdom come.”  Yet, these three words can be the most dangerous words we dare to say in church.

“Your kingdom come.”  Have you read the fine print of those words?

What if we were to pray, instead, “Your justice come,” “Your peace come,” “Your mercy come,” “Your politics come,” “Your economics come”?  In fact, we are praying exactly that.

We are praying — hoping — for God’s kingdom to become a reality: a reality that knows neither border nor enemy; a reality that exalts humility and compassion over celebrity and wealth; a reality that treasures the poor, the sick, the uneducated, the homeless, the undocumented immigrant.  God’s kingdom is ruled by love.  In God’s realm compassion is the measure of all things.

When we pray, “Your kingdom come,” we are promising to be coconspirators with God in creating this kingdom right here and now.  It’s hard to keep religion safely personal and private if that’s our prayer.  If we want an easy, comfortable prayer, one that doesn’t rattle us to our core, we would be thoroughly justified in skipping, “Your kingdom come.”

For, the kingdom God envisions doesn’t quite mesh with the kingdom people, including us, are often building.

But it’s not our prayer.  It’s Jesus’ prayer — the one he taught us to say by heart. By heart.  Heartfelt.

It is Jesus who puts all of our loyalties, all of hopes, all of our loves on the table, makes us look at them, then makes us pray those dangerous words, “Your kingdom come, Your will (not mine) be done.”

So, your kingdom come, O Father, in our homes, in our offices, in our workplaces, in our classrooms, on our playgrounds, your will be done in every moment and every place of our lives.  That is our prayer from Jesus, a prayer that does not ask God to do what we want, but asks that we do what God wants of us.  And finally, after we pray this prayer of Jesus with sincerity, let us follow up with the prayer of St. Thomas More,  “O God, give us the grace to work for the things we pray for.”