Proper 12 (17) – Year C
SEVENTH Sunday after Pentecost: July 27, 2025
Gospel Lectionary Text
Luke 11:1-13
11:1 He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples."
11:2 He said to them, "When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.
11:3 Give us each day our daily bread.
11:4 And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial."
11:5 And he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread;
11:6 for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.'
11:7 And he answers from within, 'Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.'
11:8 I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.
11:9 "So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.
11:10 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
11:11 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish?
11:12 Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion?
11:13 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"
Context
Welcome to the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost. In today’s Gospel, the disciples see Jesus pray and ask him to show them how. Perhaps his prayer is different from what they’ve known — not heavy with shame or striving, but light with love. It awakens something: “Lord, teach us to pray.”
So he does. Not with theory, but by modeling.
“Father...”
Prayer begins in relationship. Not with a God to appease, but a Father whose love is already at work. This is the deep starting place: trust in a giver who does not compare, compete, or withhold.
“Hallowed be your name.”
Let your presence be known as it truly is: not as we fear, but as you are. Holy. Healing. Good.
“Your kingdom come.”
Not a plea for domination, but a longing for a different world — one shaped by peace, where we are gathered as family.
“Give us each day our daily bread.”
More than physical food, this is sustenance for the day. The word Luke uses for “daily bread” is rare and mysterious. Maybe that’s the point. We live not by certainty, but by trust.
“Forgive us… as we forgive…”
Luke ties sin to debt. Forgiveness is not erasure, it’s healing. A restoration of relationship. We let go because we’re already held by God.
“Do not bring us to the time of trial.”
Not because we fear hardship, but because we no longer need to prove our worth through it. We are already beloved.
Prayer, then, is not our escape from the world. It’s how we dwell more deeply within it — nourished by daily bread, surrounded by mercy, and animated by the Spirit who gathers us as one.
Question
What if Jesus’ teaching on prayer is less about how we pray and more about to whom we pray? If we believe God is the parent who gives snakes and scorpions, how does that shape our prayer life? And what about the one who knows God as the giver of fish and bread? What kind of kingdom flows from each vision of God?
Reflections
Praying Eucharistically - Weekly Homily by James Alison:
Understanding the Bible anew through the Mimetic Theory of René Girard.
Poetry
The Fist
by Mary Oliver
There are days
when the sun goes down
like a fist,
though of course
if you see anything
in the heavens
in this way
you had better get
your eyes checked
or, better still,
your diminished spirit.
The heavens
have no fist,
or wouldn’t they have been
shaking it
for a thousand years now,
and even
longer than that,
at the dull, brutish
ways of mankind—
heaven’s own
creation?
Instead: such patience!
Such willingness
to let us continue!
To hear,
little by little,
the voices—
only, so far, in
pockets of the world—
suggesting
the possibilities
of peace?
Keep looking.
Behold, how the fist opens
with invitation.
Praying
by Mary Oliver
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
Hammer is the Prayer
by Christian Wiman
There is no consolation in the thought of God,
he said, slamming another nail
in another house another havoc had half–taken.
Grace is not consciousness, nor is it beyond.
To hell with remembrance, to hell with heaven,
hammer is the prayer of the poor and the dying.
And the wind in some lordless random comes to rest,
and all the disquieted dust within,
peace came to the hinterlands of our minds,
too remote to know, but peace nonetheless.
Prayer
This week, the call to prayer comes from the Street Psalms Centering Prayer:
Come, Holy Spirit, wild and free. Do as you please. Shine your light on me that I might see things as they are, not as I am. Free me to act in your name with courage, creativity, and compassion.
