Readings:1 John 5:9-13 & John 17:6-19

It has been said that the great malady of the twentieth century, implicated in all of our troubles and affecting each of us individually and socially, is "loss of soul".  Consider for a moment.  Isn’t that kind of loss at the root of obsession, addiction, violence, and loss of meaning in life, just to name a few?  These are things about which our present day society is constantly talking.  Consider the proliferation of self-help groups, books and television programs.  And such things are not bad.  Dr. Phil is not pure entertainment.  People are truly helped by examining their lives and seeking answers to their problems.  But such processes although helpful, will probably never get to the root of the problem.  For at the root of our loss of soul is our reluctance to open ourselves to God in prayer.  Let’s face it! Pray is a four-letter word.  And so this morning I feel called to talk about prayer and the benefits of it in our lives. 

The gospel reading for this morning focuses on the life of prayer.  In fact, it is in the form of a prayer, the heartfelt prayer of Jesus for his disciples, as he prepared himself for the crucifixion. 

It is a passage of Scripture that reminds me of some of the great mystics of the church.  My favourite is Julian of Norwich, a great mystic of the fourteenth century, a woman of prayer, and a spiritual great in the life of the Church.  One summer as I travelled through England, I visited Norwich.  I spent some time looking for traces of her life.  It was not an easy task.  Although we quickly found the Cathedral and were able to read about her life, we were not able to find directions to her cell.  Indeed, the small Church dedicated to her life is in a very out of the way part of Norwich.  It is not the original building.  That was bombed during the war.  But it was well worth the search, for it is a lovely place, inviting and warm.  Off the main church is a small room replicating Julian's cell.  There is bench seating all around the edge of the room, and a central altar.  All around the altar are candles which visitors light as they come in to pray.  In fact, the whole aura about the room is one of prayer.  It is a place steeped in prayer. 

In prayer we open ourselves to God.  It is a process which both liberates and awakens us.  As we reach out to God, as we enter into God's presence, we offer God an opening into our soul lives.  It is an intensely human experience.  Yet it is probably the most neglected part of our spiritual lives.          

We come together on Sundays.  Prayers are offered on our behalf.  We may even enter into them in a true and fervent spirit of holiness.  There are times during the week when we may remember to offer up our own prayers.  We may say the Lord's Prayer.  We may offer grace at mealtime.  What person does not remember to ask God for help at a time of true need or trauma?  But how many of us set aside a time for prayer?  A time when we centre our thoughts, when we lay aside our busy schedules, and devote our concentration to God?  Do we become so embroiled in the affairs of the world that the affairs of the soul are simply overlooked?  How much we could learn from the prayer of Jesus in the Gospel reading this morning!  What is in that prayer that brings life to the soul? 

Jesus prayed for his disciples, "I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world.  They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word."  We have a prayer we call the Lord's Prayer.  Jesus used it to teach the disciples how to pray.  How much more is this prayer truly the Lord's Prayer!  For in it, Jesus is expressing his care and concern, the deepest feelings of his heart at the most critical time of his life.  He knows what is to come.  He knows what he must face in the days ahead.  He knows that they will be times of personal pain and suffering.  Yet he prays, not for his own needs, but for his friends, for those closest to him.  And in that prayer, can we hear his heartfelt prayer for us? 

He is not praying for the state of the world, a world whose force will destroy him.  Sometimes it is simply impossible to pray for the world with the state it is in.  Was he thinking about the way the world around him was organized?  Was he thinking about structures of racism, competition, exploitation, violence, discrimination, greed, neglect?  Was he thinking of the poor, the wretched, the leper, the orphan, the spiritually impoverished?  Possibly, but he is certainly praying for those who follow him, who dream his dream, for they are the ones who will bring about the kingdom. 

He prays for joy for them, for joy in the midst of grief.  I don’t get the sense that he is praying for the effervescence and ecstasy which quite rightly accompany some religious experiences.  He is not asking for joy that will mask their grief at the state of the world.  He is praying for true joy, the kind of joy that filled the life of Jesus even when he faced betrayal and execution.  It is the same kind of joy that sustains people of faith in the midst of catastrophe and calamity.  It is the kind of joy that surprises us, that brings about serenity and a sense of peace, the kind of joy that causes people to "smell" holiness on us, the kind of joy that comes with a real connection and relationship to God. 

Jesus prays for protection for the disciples.  "Protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one."  This could well be our prayer in a fragmented and argumentative age.  We need to be reminded that what we do as a worshipping community we do in Jesus' name.  We may have differing ideas about how to do things or about who should do the doing.  We may be faced with opposite hopes and plans.  But our unity is in carrying out our Lord's will.  In this world with all of its pitfalls and temptations, we are the subject of God's promises and this prayer for our protection. 

Finally Jesus prays for their sanctification, for their holiness.  How do we hear that call to holiness?  Do we protest that we are not holy?  Does the very idea of holiness disturb us?  It is our call.  It is the terms of our being in the world.  Jesus is our pattern for how to live in the world, for how to live lives of holiness.  He did not separate himself from the world.  He ate and drank with outcasts and sinners.  He communicated the love of God wherever he went.   

Julian speaks to us across the ages about the starting point for her life of prayer.  "Then our lord opened my spiritual eyes and showed me the soul in the middle of my heart.  The soul was as large as if it were an eternal world, and a blessed kingdom as well.  Its condition showed it to be a most glorious city.  In the midst of it sat our Lord Jesus, God and Man, beautiful in person, most majestic of kings, and most worshipful Lord.  I saw him arrayed in solemn state.  Most gloriously is he seated within the soul, in rightful peace and rest.  His Godhead rules and upholds both heaven and earth, and all that is, and is supreme in might, wisdom and goodness.  Nor will he quit the place he holds in our soul forever - as I see it.  For in us is he completely at home, and has his eternal dwelling." 

That sense of prayer, taking us into the presence of God, God indwelling us, is the starting point.  It is the beginning of the search for soul.  May we continue to grow in prayer.  Amen.