"Deliver Us from Evil"

My Facebook friends know that last week, during a political convention, I did not practice what I preached in a recent blog about avoiding making snarky comments on social media.

At one point, I apologized, but couldn’t resist making a few more. As one friend commented, though, snark can be a good way of asserting oneself when taken aback by what one witnesses.

Earlier on this blog I explained why I didn’t take to Facebook or this blog immediately after watching or reading the news: my reactionary self takes over when I would rather be reflective, at least in print or on the internet.

A few weeks back, I did write something passionate about the kind of presidential candidate I would be proud to have in the White House, which I viewed less as a political endorsement than a spiritual intervention. But you have been spared receiving that post today as I further deliberated, not afraid to be political but resisting being partisan. If you have read this blog for any length of time, my choice would not be news to you anyway.

The genius of the prayer Jesus taught his disciples is partly that each simple phrase can represent to the pray-er different things at different times in different contexts.

Such is true of “deliver us from evil.” Now I once surmised that the phrase, following hard on the heels of “lead us not into temptation,” must refer to the evil we ourselves might do, but in practice, I believe it also refers to the evil that others might do to us.

When I consider my own possible “evils” each morning that I pray those four words, all sorts come to mind. I may consider someone I’ve hurt, some malicious thought, feelings of envy, memories of past sins--or a snarky comment on Facebook! The list, unfortunately, goes on and on.

As a relevant aside, let me dare to disagree with Jesus about the thought being equal to the deed.

I agree with him that we cannot feel self-satisfied because we haven’t acted on our lust—whether it be economic, sexual, religious, violent and so on. But I think we do better when we don’t act on our evil or selfish desires. At least then the harm done is only to ourselves, but when we act them out, we harm others, obviously.

I believe those we recognize as saints are those best able to restrain their worst impulses, if only their worst is to ignore the needs of the poor, the sick, the hungry, the homeless, the stranger.

Other evils I confront in myself, given the day or context or condition, are enervating fear, failing to stand up for or take care of myself, believing myself unworthy, thinking I have nothing more to say, avoiding conflict at all costs.

Just as often I think of evils outside my control: someone who disrespects me, a health challenge for me or someone else, the death of someone I love, an injustice that affects me or someone I care about, etc. I don’t expect God to “deliver” me from these problems as much as show me the way to deliverance that befits a follower of Jesus.

But “deliver us from evil” includes the qualifier “us.”

It’s not all about me, but all about us, and that expands the possibilities of evil worldwide: war, poverty, ignorance, violence, inequality, disease, divisiveness, environmental destruction, and all the “isms” that divide us. Again, I don’t expect God to solve the problems as much as inspire a solution—in me, and in the spiritual communities collectively praying this prayer.

As you can imagine, I sometimes experience long pauses after reciting each phrase of the Lord’s Prayer.

“Deliver us from evil” particularly gives me pause, especially in this political season.

Related posts:

The Lord’s Prayer: What It Means to Me

Gerasene Demoniac Announces Presidential Bid

Please support this blog ministry by clicking here and scrolling down to the donate link below its description or by mailing to MCC, P.O. Box 50488, Sarasota FL 34232 USA, designating “Progressive Christian Reflections” in the memo area of your check or money order. Thank you!

Copyright © 2016 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved.  

Word Magic

The morning that I write this, I woke early thinking of how I would shape my talk on Henri Nouwen in Seattle this coming Friday. Some of my best ideas come to me in the middle of the night or early in the morning. Then it occurred to me that a friend, J. Marshall Jenkins, and the Dalai Lama were downstairs awaiting me for morning prayers. As I sometimes do, I got up at 5 a.m. to enjoy an entire hour alone with them, my thoughts, and hopefully with God. With coffee, of course.

It pleasantly reminded me of my visits to Mt. Calvary Retreat House in Santa Barbara, arising in the darkness, picking up a cup of coffee in the coffee room, and finding a nook or cranny or outside space to think, read, or pray—a memory reinforced when our dog came downstairs and I took her out for her morning necessaries and I saw a bright full moon and a handful of visible planets and stars—a contrast to the abundance of planets and stars in the night sky over Santa Barbara, but wondrous nonetheless. I picked up The New York Times in our driveway, remembering today was Science day, being a Tuesday, with its special science section.

And I realized my thrill—no doubt partly induced by my half-decaf coffee—was due to the magic of words. Thinking of Nouwen’s words and how my words might characterize them; anticipating Marshall’s words in his book, A Wakeful Faith: Spiritual Practice in the Real World, with which I’ve been doing a kind of lectio divina for a number of weeks, and my newly acquired book by his holiness the Dalai Lama, The Universe in a Single Atom: The Convergence of Science and Spirituality, experiencing both challenges and agreement in each; looking forward to reading the morning paper; and finally, eager to sit here writing this post and soon my Nouwen lecture.

I was so giddy by the time I concluded with the Lord’s prayer, I could hardly contain myself!  Those of you who are not morning people may be rolling your eyes right now, and believe me, I do restrain myself when Wade comes down for breakfast before going off to the office.

As if to sober me up, I happened onto a review of a novel by Bruce Wagner, who last year wrote of the “depravity” of Los Angeles in Dead Stars, and now apparently finds among “Buddhists, gurus and spiritual pilgrims” similar “narcissism, self-aggrandizement and the ravenous appetite for fame and renown” in The Empty Chair.

I gave myself up to a moment of self-doubt about why I write this blog, and in my younger years, this might have stopped me cold. But older, I have realized that everything we/I do is prompted partly by ego—how we view ourselves and how we think other people view us—and our need to be heard. In fact, one entry in psychologist and pastoral counselor Marshall Jenkins’s book confirms this: “What we think others think of us—or what we think they would think of us if they really knew us—shapes our self-concept.”

Too many of us are derailed by the snarky and sometimes jealous comments of others, those Henri Nouwen describes as trying to hook you in your wounds “to dismiss what God, through you, is saying to them.”

For me, the magic of words is that they engage me in a community of many voices, some uplifting and affirming, some challenging and humbling, even when I am alone.

Related post:

The Right Word

Progressive Christian Reflections is an authorized Emerging Ministry of MCC supported solely by readers. Please click here to make a tax-deductible donation. Thank you!

Copyright © 2014 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved. Check out past posts in the right rail on the blogsite. Consider using a post or quotes in personal reflection, worship, newsletters, and classes, referencing the blog address when possible: http://chrisglaser.blogspot.com.