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Yesterday morning, Micah went to the pharmacy to pick up my anti-leprosy pills. (Side bar comment from Micah: “Be assured that my mother is not suffering from leprosy but from an inability to separate the anti-seizure medication levetiracetam from its brand name Keppra leading her to call it ‘lepra’.”)
Side bar response from me: He is correct on this point, but I still like taking Keppra each morning believing I am doing a brilliant job of warding off leprosy for another day. Moreover, I don’t know why drug companies need to have very long complicated names for those of us who are living as walking medicine cabinets. And, finally, this is all a distraction from the point I am really headed toward which is that…
While Micah was at the pharmacy, after praying the Give Us This Day morning prayer with you all, I found myself pondering anew a question I’ve been thinking about a lot of late: the mystery of intercessory prayer. What is its purpose? How does it work? I’ve been so moved to receive emails and cards from many of you telling me that you are praying for me. And indeed, when people have asked what they can do, I often say, “Just pray” because it's hard to think of anything else to say. But how do I think others mentioning me to God makes a difference?
It is not like I think God has forgotten who I am and doesn’t already care about me. It is not like I think God has a limited amount of attention to give to people and must distribute it in different percentages to different people at different times...and now should be my time, gosh darnit! Most importantly, I can’t believe that if God wanted erase glioblastoma from my life journey, He would refuse to do so unless 100 people asked him vs. 99. What kind of God would it be that I worship?
At the same time, Jesus gives us the parable of the insistent friend (Luke 11:5-8) and the parable of the widow and the judge (Luke 18:1-8… the one that we heard in the lectionary just this past Saturday) and invites to us pray for what we need and others need. Moreover, personally, I am experiencing a strong sense of being prayed for right now. Not exactly feeling great as the radiation / chemo experience moves into its second week and I’m having a hard time imagining that it isn’t going to get a whole lot less pleasant in the weeks to come, though I’m very open to being surprised on that front. (Keep praying for that!) But I still do have a deep experience of God’s nearness and care.
While Micah was still dealing with the pharmacist about where my anti-leprosy concoction might be, I had the opportunity to reread chapter 5 of Fr. Ron Rohlheiser’s classic The Holy Longing. It is the chapter where he talks about why our understanding of Jesus as truly human as well as truly divine forever impacts how we must think about intercessory prayer as Christians. Here is a taste (though if you really want to understand what he’s talking about you might want to look at the whole of Chapter 4 and 5):
“As Christians, we pray to God ‘through Christ,’ and in trying to answer that prayer, God respects the incarnation, namely that God’s power is now partially dependent upon human action. What does this mean?... When we pray ‘through Christ’ we are praying through the Body of Christ, which then includes Jesus, the Eucharist, and the body of believers (ourselves) here on earth… Thus, not only God in heaven is being petitioned and asked to act. We are also charging ourselves, as part of the Body of Christ, with some responsibility for answering the prayer. To pray as a Christian demands concrete involvement in trying to bring about what is pleaded for in the prayer.” (p.83)
Reading this again reminded me of a moment years ago now when I was on and Ignatian retreat and talking with Jesus about a couple of times in my life where I really had not felt cared… nope, not at all… and I was not feeling very peaceful about it. The response I experienced from Jesus really surprised me. I thought I was going to get a good theological justification something along the line of God-having-reasons-we-just-don’t-know-about, but instead I got an apology. Something like, “Yeah, I’m sorry about all that. I wanted better for you in all those situations, but my Body isn’t quite able to do all that I want it to do. I’m working with a hand that only has two fingers left and I’m missing an ear and a leg.” God’s care and, perhaps even God’s peace, really do come into our lives through God’s created matter, and foremost through fellow human beings.
I suspect part of the reason I feel God’s nearness at present is because Micah and Mike and my family but also All of You who are God’s Body have been so willing to draw near and be God’s fingers and leg and ears for me. The generosity of friends toward us in this time has made me aware of how much less generous I’ve been in my own life. I fear in my lifetime I’ve sent far fewer flowers and gift cards than I’ve received and feel a bit guilty about that!
So, while there is probably more to be said about intercessory prayer and questions about how it works in weeks to come, at least this week I find myself thinking about how we as Americans at present in time can continue to expand our reach as the Body of Christ toward those who maybe don’t have anyone to root for them right now. Who don’t have anyone praying for them right now. How do we become ever more open and willing to be God’s fingers and leg or ears…or toes…or eyeballs for them?
I think of my old classmate Fr. Brendan of The Resurrection Project who has continued to show up in Chicago to lay eyes on fellow Christians being detained by ICE and share aloud what he sees. I think of my sister Katie who runs Lindenwood Area Senior Ministries and makes sure that elderly without family get needed rides to doctors’ visits and basic home repairs made. Talk about legs. (I know that is just the beginning. I could say similar things about so many of you reading this newsletter and you would know of more than I do!) And then I think about Matthew 25:31-46 when Jesus talked about how anyone who did something for the hungry, the naked, the sick, he felt had done something for him. Given our interconnectedness to one another, perhaps this is true for all of us.
I know for myself right now that when Micah goes and gets the medicine that protects me from leprosy, I feel like he is caring for me. But when I find out that one of you is witnessing to what is happening to immigrants even though I don’t live in your state, I also feel that you’ve cared for me. Or when I hear one of you has volunteered or given to a charity like LASM, I feel like you’ve done it for me. I hope you feel just the same way when I try to do things on behalf of a more just and kind world, even though they don’t directly serve you, but just because we are so connected as the Body of Christ that what we do for one of us ends up somehow caring for all of us.
Sending love this week in all of your directions by doing the best I can by acting in a few directions.
(photo credit: Sam Badmaeva - Unsplash )