Luke 18:1-8 – The Widow and the Unjust Judge
Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’ For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’”

Mark 14:32-36 – Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane
Jesus and his disciples went to a place called Gethsemane and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter and James and John and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, I am deeply grieved even to death; remain here and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me, yet not what I want, but what you want.” (Or as it is written in the King James Version, “Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.”) Jesus came and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, “Simon are you asleep? Could you not keep awake one hour?”

When my father was 62 years old he died of prostate cancer that had spread to his spine. I was 34. Our sons Matt and Chris were about to turn 9 and 6. He was a great father and a wonderful grandfather whom I loved dearly. There is still a part of my heart that is broken over his death.
Ever since then, I have made sure to get an annual test of my PSA (prostate specific antigen) levels which are one indication of possible cancer activity. For years my PSA has been low.

Then a year ago this past September, in 2016, the blood test at my annual physical showed my PSA level had jumped up from its normal 1.8 to 4. This score was not good. I had another PSA in January, and this time it was up to a 6, which was alarming. I had a biopsy. The result was cancer.
Prostate cancer on the whole can be eminently treatable. There are a lot of men in this church who have had prostate cancer and survived.

But my dear dad had died of this, which along with my lab scores and biopsy put me in a high risk group. I was quite frankly, scared. I researched my treatment options. And I prayed in a different way than I did when my father was dying,

Here’s how my concept of prayer has changed over the years.

Shortly after my father died, I was at bible study retreat at the Kirkridge Retreat Center in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. This session was with Walter Wink, who became one of my favorite bible scholars, but with whom, as you will see, I had some problems that evening. We were looking at Luke 18:1-8, the parable of the widow and the crooked judge that was acted out and then read as today’s scripture.

I want to get right past the notion that Jesus is comparing God to a crooked judge whom we have to badger. The judge in this parable has no moral center, no care for God and no regard for people. The judge is not somebody who is going to be convinced by a moral argument, so the judge is not a human stand-in for God.

The widow, meanwhile, is completely without rights. In biblical times when a woman’s husband died, the husband’s brother had the legal right not only to her deceased husband’s estate. Sometimes the brother-in-law would also keep her dowry, the money she brought to the marriage, which was rightfully hers. Without having her dowry returned to her, this woman would be absolutely penniless. She would become a beggar or a prostitute, or she and her children would die. She was that desperate.
The crooked judge is the obstacle she faces.

If she had sat at home and prayed that somehow her rightful money would be returned to her and did nothing else, there would be no way for God to act in her behalf without violating her human freedom or even the human freedom of the judge for that matter.

These points were raised in bible study of this passage back in Kirkridge. In the course of the discussion, a young woman stood up and said her father was recently diagnosed with cancer. She wondered how she should pray. Walter Wink answered, “If it were my father, I would pray that he live.”

In this moment so soon after my own father’s death, I found this answer to be simplistic and crude. I had grown up believing we should end any prayer for help with the phrase, “Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done,” as Jesus is reported to have prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. So I stood up and reminded Wink of those words, “Not my will but thine be done.” I told him he was being glib.
I was so angry with Walter Wink’s response that I walked out of that bible study. But after spending time alone on that retreat and in thinking about prayer more fully in years to follow, I came to agree with Walter Wink, that we should pray boldly for what we want, for health and healing.

After all, there was no one else awake in the Garden of Gethsemane to have remembered the reported words of Jesus “Not my will but thine be done”.

I have come to believe that God’s will for us is always our wholeness and healing, and we can trust in this. This belief changed my prayer life.

With this sense of prayer, that we are called to pray for what we most want, like a widow banging on the door of a crooked judge, I made another choice about prayer in my time of cancer, which was to go quite public with it. I asked you to pray for me, and you did. I asked for prayers for my cancer on my Facebook page. And here’s what I intend to be the most important part of this sermon.

I believe our deep, heartfelt prayers for one another make a difference, whether it’s through the power and strength of this church or something like the mixed bag that is Facebook. I know that not everyone’s diseases are healed, nor is every life we pray for completely fixed, but I believe these prayers matter in a profound way.

One story that I have kept in my heart about the impact of prayer for others, which is called intercessory prayer, is that of Ray Meeks.

I met Ray in 1981. Ray had been on death row since 1974, when he was 21 years old. In 1982 Ray joined this church from his prison cell. Governors of Florida signed two warrants for Ray’s death and twice moved him to the cell next to the electric chair. Ray received a stay after each warrant.

His lawyers filed for a rehearing of his case. They lost. Then they filed for a resentencing which languished in the courts for about 10 years. But last year thanks to the help of attorneys Larry Turner from this church and Billy Nolas, a Federal Public Defender for the Northern District of Florida, Ray’s sentence was reduced to life in prison.

For years we prayed for Ray and banged on the doors of judges, crooked and otherwise. We raised money for both his personal needs and for his defense. Eventually, his life was saved. He will never get out of prison, but he is now free to walk around outside of his cell, which he was never allowed to do on death row. He can go to the cafeteria and choose food that has just been cooked. He can spend his days at programs in the chapel. He can play cards with new friends. Most importantly, he does not go to bed each night with the knowledge that the governor of Florida could order his death in the morning.

Not all our prayers for Ray were answered exactly as we wished. But enough has changed for Ray to be thankful that we never gave up praying for him. And the fact that Ray knew we were praying for him played a large part in his ability to keep hope and never lose heart.

A similar case can be made about our prayers to free this nation from gun violence. It is no secret that many of political leaders of this country care neither for God nor the safety of our people when it comes to guns. In fact, an Australian Episcopal priest recently shared a painful truth. “Americans seem to care more for guns than they do for their children.”

This is exactly where our prayers must be like the widow banging on the door of those unjust leaders. We are called to the kind of prayer that also keeps our lives active in this fight. If we believe nothing can be changed, we are as guilty as those who insist nothing should be changed.

I chose proton beam treatment at the UF Health Proton Center in Jacksonville. When I was going through my 7 weeks of proton treatments for cancer in Jacksonville last summer, we stayed in a number of places nearby. One afternoon, when my daily treatment was finished, Sandy and I took a walk along Villano Beach out to a point where a stone breakwater marks the entrance to the Matanzas River. We were walking, talking, holding hands, pondering this strange summer of our lives, and treasuring not only our love, but also the love of so many people who cared and prayed for us. As we were returning, a woman whom we had never met before approached us. She had seen us out on the beach, sensed something important was going on between the two of us, and she showed us a picture she took of us standing in the distance, arm and arm, gazing out onto the water.

I shared my cancer story with her. She asked if she could put this picture on Facebook and ask her friends to pray for me. I said sure. I continued to post my own pictures and progress on Facebook from time to time, and I asked UCG to constantly pray for me.

Every day, as I lay on the gurney in my treatment room while the massive proton machine circled me sending its beams into me, I pictured all the saints of my life who had gone before me praying for me and supporting me. I thought of my father and mother there in the room with me. I thought of the saints of this church, Bill and Brownie Stout, Don and Mary Elizabeth McBride, Jim Button, Helen Aller Oster, Dave Reiser, George Casella, Shannon and Edith McCune and many more. I thought of Sandy’s parents Alvin and Evelyn Sebastian, her grandparents, my grandparents, a new list of names every day. I thought of all of you sending me your healing love and prayers. I could see you and feel your presence as clearly as I can see you and feel your presence here today. I didn’t feel alone in that room or in my cancer ever again.
I believe that something happens; something always changes when we pray for others, both here at UCG and in our own private prayers. Change happens because these prayers involve both an inward and outward journey. We pray in the mystical treasure of our hearts linked with the mysteries of God. We pray in the way we follow these hopes with action, banging on the doors of injustice and living toward our own healing and the healing of others.

Not everyone survives the crises and disasters that surround them in life’s most difficult moments. In fact, it’s been pointed out that everyone whom Jesus healed is now dead. Miracles are momentary, symbolic, Kairos times when God’s healing light flows in a remarkable way.

When the shadow of cancer loomed over me I came away with a sense that it matters that we pray. I believe we are called to pray both silently in our hearts and live openly like the widow confronting injustice. It matters that we very specifically pray for the people who ask for our prayers in these worship services. It matters that we boldly ask for prayers when we are in need.

In the final words of the song that Carissa sang,
“I’ve seen dreams that move the mountains
Hope that doesn’t ever end
Even when the sky is falling…
Broken hearts become brand new
That’s what faith can do…
Even if you fall sometimes, you will have the strength to rise.”

(What Faith Can Do – Scott Davis and Scott
Krippayne)

Prayer: Sandy Reimer

Take a deep breath in and then slowly release that breath.
Breathe again slowly in and out.

From this quiet place, silently consider a prayer for yourself: a prayer for a healing you need, a hope you yearn for, a quality you wish for in this Lenten season, or a gratitude you want to express. Silently offer this prayer – in a sentence or two – for yourself as you breathe in and out.

Pray now for someone you know – someone you love – who is in need of an extra measure of prayer on this day. Pray for what you most wish for that person, picturing them held in light as you pray.

In this week of the spring equinox, as daylight lengthens, as darkness shortens, and the earth’s seasons come temporarily into balance, we remember also the seasons of our own spiritual journey. As we travel toward Easter in the days ahead, may we find the strength, the hope, the love and the peace we seek. Amen.