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In today’s Gospel Story (Luke 11:1-13) Jesus gives his followers a version of what we know as the Our Father and talks with them about the importance of prayer. This pretty much sums up the majority report. The minority report can be very personal because each of us is hearing it through the filter of what is going on in our life as we hear it.

There is quite a lot going on in my life this morning, and I am not alone in this. Our little corner of the world is hurting pretty badly. We are grieving the fact that this past week two police officers from a neighboring city were ambushed as they ate their lunch in their units parked together, as cops often do. One of the officers has succumbed to his wounds. The other is still in the hospital. A third officer, responding to the “officer down, active shooter” call was also shot and is still in the hospital. Our community is in mourning. The community outpouring of support for our police officers and their families is amazing. When evil happens so does good. Evil does not win. Jesus shows us this. Having said that, words cannot describe how terrible it is when the person next to you is suffering violence, or to care for someone who is or just has suffered violence. Any profession that involves a uniform and an oath, such as police, fire, emergency services, military, is a call to put others ahead of our own comfort, safety, and convenience. While we take the oath, our families live it. 

Also, there are at least two police chaplains doing what chaplains do: “Honor the fallen, care for the living”. Most of what they do is known only to the persons they are helping, since much of their service is happening behind the scenes. They are living the gospel, bringing Abba’s love and care to folks who are hurting deeply. They are having a difficult time, but are putting their own suffering aside to care for others. How do we support them?

We like to think that prayer changes things. Mother Theresa says this is not accurate — Prayer changes us, and we change things. The Story says, “And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you”. And so, Abba, we are asking, we are seeking, we are knocking. We are hurting. Are you there? Are you saying something to us? 

A prayer approach that is becoming increasingly popular these days is the Welcome Prayer: “Abba, I welcome everything that comes into my life today, because it is of you”. How can I welcome this evil and suffering, and believe it is of Abba? It seems to me this is the only way I can deal with it. Otherwise I will get so caught up in my sadness and anger that I will become part of the evil, and diminish the good. I know what this is like, and I don’t ever want to go back there again. It is a terrible way to live. I cannot again get caught up in the maelstrom of violence.

Jesus tells us to begin our praying with “Our Father”, and to use the familiar form, “Abba”, “Dad”. Our basic reality is that we all are being created by the same loving Abba who loves us all equally and uniquely. All of us of any tradition or no tradition, are being created by Abba, including the shooter. We might not want to recognize this, but it is true. Abba loves every one of us, but so many of us have no idea. Could it be that Abba is asking us to live his love in our every day? What would this mean? No doubt, more asking, knocking, seeking. As we look around at our country, our world, see the violence, the anger, the polarization, our reaction is to continue it all by blaming and accusing others, by scapegoating. There is just too much of that stuff all around us. Maybe prayer is leading me beyond myself.

Then there is the shooter who died in the gunfire. What led him to do this? How about his family? They must be having their own hurt. At least we can lift them up in prayer. Everybody deserves our help and understanding, as difficult as this might be for us. And so, we continue to knock, to seek, to ask, going where this takes us. This is a time when we really need Abba happening in each other. Each of us has gifts that no one else has, and that others in our life need. Abba is happening in and through us.

And so we ask, we seek, we knock. For many this means asking some vague Someone out there somewhere, to fix something we don’t like, to keep some bad things from happening, and so on. When we are open to it, a door will indeed open, but it might not be the one we are knocking on. We will find something, but it might not be what we are looking for. We will get something, but maybe not what we are asking for. Jesus shows us an Abba who is not a vague Someone out there but who is being itself, in whom we live, and move, and have our being. I have no doubt that Abba is with us suffering right now, that he is with the officers’ families and fellow police officers in their grief.

Jesus told us to love our enemies. Do I have any? Of course. I just have to notice how and what I think, and I might learn something. Perhaps this is a time for me to look into my own heart. Is there violence there? Without doubt, yes there is. “Our” Father denotes a relationship I share with all peoples and all creation. Our call as disciples of Jesus is to live this relationship in such a way that others of all races and traditions come to realize that they are of Our Father too. There is no such thing as “other”. I need to love my enemy, even though I don’t realize I have any. I need to love the people whose biggest mistake is that they are not as I want them to be. If Abba is going to stop evil from happening, it will be because I, we, respond to the gifts he is giving us. To keep asking, knocking, searching, and go where this takes us. We don’t know our own goodness, so we try to create it in ways that we hope will make ourselves feel good, but in reality are contributing to the suffering. Questioning is more important than answers. Answers give me false security, like I know something others don’t, and so in some way feel I am better than others. Asking, knocking, searching —   wandering and wondering – is a good way of living. Just sayin . . .