According to an ancient story, a certain heathen came to Rabbi Hillel the Elder and said, "Convert me on condition that thou appoint me high priest, so that I might serve at the altar."
Hillel replied: "Sit down, and I will tell thee something. If one wishes to greet a king of flesh and blood, is it not right that he learn how to make his entrances and exits?" The heathen agreed, and Hillel continued: "Thou wishest to greet the King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He. Is it not all the more right that thou learn how to enter into the Holy of Holies, how to fix the lights, how to approach the altar, how to set the table, how to prepare the row of wood?" The heathen then embarked upon a course of study and became a proselyte but learned that he was not qualified to become a priest. (See Aboth de R. Nathan, 15; translated in The Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan [New York: Schocken Books 1974], p. 81).
We know that we have a High Priest in heaven who is able by His merit to make even the clumsiest prayer acceptable before God (see Heb. 4:14-16). But does this fact excuse us who lead our congregations in public prayer from employing proper forms and filling out prayers with intelligible content in order both to bless God and be a blessing to our fellow worshipers? Corporate prayer is prayer in the first person plural; he who prays publicly in the worship service is articulating praise and petitions on behalf of the congregation, and all should feel God glorified and their hearts lifted up to Him. Unfortunately, when a humbler prays, the whole business is spoiled for many, how ever generous the Lord may be about it. In fact, it is unthinkable that he who prays sincerely would not also want to pray his best. To pray well for his people in public, acting in a sense as their intercessor, the man of God ought to seek to be as meticulous as Hillel's high priest. Some may feel that to criticize thoughtlessness in the content and wording of prayers is to be narrowly picky and to miss the more important spiritual content. But as Ellen White put it, "There should be rules in regard to the time, the place, and the manner of worshiping. Nothing that is sacred, nothing that pertains to the worship of God, should be treated with carelessness or indifference."—Testimonies, vol. 5, p. 491.
We in the free tradition of the Seventh-day Adventist Church are properly wary of formalism, of clinging to a hollow crust long after the insides have leaked out. But formalism is not the same as good form, which comes partly from a proper yearning to make holiness beautiful and partly as a natural accompaniment of everything good and true. Some bad form can mean very bad praying. I would like to illustrate by three poor prayer habits which have spread like weeds in our own denominational tradition.
The first I call "Unitarian prayers." These prayers are addressed, correctly enough, to the first person of the Godhead, with a formula such as "Our heavenly Father," but conclude with the words "In Thy name we pray, Amen."
A little matter? Perhaps. But let all who take the New Testament as a norm be reminded that Christian prayer is offered up in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son, the second person of the Godhead. Jesus said: " 'Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it., that the Father may be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in my name, I will do it'" (John 14:13, 14), * and "Truly, truly, I say to you, if you ask anything of the Father, he will give it to you in my name. Hitherto you have asked nothing in my name; ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full'" (chap. 16:23, 24).
A proper concluding formula to a Trinitarian Christian public prayer could be simply "In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen," or as the Book of Common Prayer so sonorously has it, "Through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen."
The second weed is a bit more difficult to uproot. I call it "extemporaneous prayers that aren't." Extemporaneous prayer is virtually an article of faith in many evangelical churches, including our own. We usually scorn formal liturgical prayers or written prayers devoid of the Spirit. But when formalism is expelled through the front door, it has a way of slipping in again through the back door, unrecognized. Conscious effort is necessary to maintain spontaneity and variety, but most of the time no such effort is made, and our prayers become as stereotyped as if we were indeed reading them from a prayer book. Their words become fixed by congregational tradition or personal habit. They become mechanical and slide all too easily from our lips without first passing through the brain.
They are, in short, cliche-ridden prayers, a pastiche of pious bits of rhetoric that once meant something to somebody, but now in their second or third afterlife have turned rancid and moldy. So far removed from the lips which once gave them genuine utterance, they have not enough beauty or force to merit liturgical preservations. Such prayers could probably be produced as well on a computer. Could it be that those who offer them dimly sense that they have no "unction" and so often try to compensate by praying longer?
Occasionally a bold soul will make a stab at trying to say something fresh in a prayer. If he tries too hard, the result is merely cloying. A few years ago I heard a minister in my church begin the pastoral prayer by saying, "Good morning, Lord." It was arresting, even jarring. But it aged quickly when for months after one seldom heard anything else. Imitation may be a compliment, but the thing did not wear well.
Every cliche began as a fresh and powerful phrase that was sufficiently apt to impress its hearers, who in turn made such good use of its expressiveness that it got used up. A once-powerful phrase reaches cliche status when lesser souls than its originator use it merely to impress, to obfuscate, and to fill time, but not to communicate genuine thought or feeling. Too many public prayers are full of such things. How can we learn again to pray with the mind and the heart, not off the top of the head?
It might be a liberating experience for some to try writing out a few prayers—as an exercise, not to use in public. But it would help everyone to compile a list of deadly prayer-cliches, especially the kind that trigger a whole concatenation of other cliches. I have such a list. At the top are all thanksgivings "for the privilege that is ours of. . ."Never have I heard of privilege that is so routine. Get rid of this bromide that is yours! A phrase that is not only affected but mindless is doubly bad. Borrowed piety can uplift no more than painted fire can warm!
The third weed in the garden of poor prayers I call "benedictions that aren't." Not one minister in a hundred, it seems to me, and even fewer church members, know the difference between a benediction and a closing prayer. The etymology of the word should make it clear that a benediction is the pronouncement of a blessing. It may be, but need not be, in the form of a prayer addressed to God. It may be addressed directly to the people. In the latter case, good tradition calls for the minister to face his congregation, not bow his head, and with hand or hands uplifted pronounce a final blessing upon his people. I prefer scriptural benedictions, for they resonate, but nonscriptural ones are acceptable. The prototypical benediction is the Aaronic blessing in Numbers 6:24-26: "The Lord bless you and keep you: The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you: The Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace." The minister may appropriately add "Amen." Note that it is addressed to the people, not to the Lord. It would not be fitting to bow the head while saying this blessing.
Another scriptural benediction is sup plied by 2 Corinthians 13:14: "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all," to which the minister may add "now and forevermore, Amen." If the minister does not feel comfortable saying the benediction without bowing his head, he may alter the second person plural pronoun to first person plural, thus: "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all, Amen." Such a prayer can still be called a benediction.
Some may wish to conclude the worship service with a final prayer, which is not a benediction, following the established revival meeting or evangelistic meeting format. Very well. But in the church bulletin do not call it a "benediction," causing confusion and revealing ignorance. For my part, I prefer a bona fide benediction. Most closing prayers that I hear are anticlimactic recapitulations of the sermon. There are better ways to call for a response to the preaching.
Bad habits are hard to break, especially if they have been sanctified in church, but it's worth the effort in order to be at our best before the King of kings.
