Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

“Once when Jesus was praying in solitude ….” Lk 9:1

Jesus prayed.

Wikipedia says: we get our word “prayer” from the Latin precari, which means “to ask, to beg, to entreat” – and that anthropologists attest to writings as early as 3000 B.C. referring to the act of praying.

Prayer appears to be an essential aspect of human life from its earliest beginnings. How prayer is done, however, varies from culture to culture.

We Christians, for example, usually bow our heads and fold our hands while praying. Some Native Americans view dancing as a form of prayer. Sufis are known to whirl in prayer. Hindus chant mantras. Jews sway back and forth. Muslims kneel and prostrate. Quakers keep silent.

Here what is notable is that, in the gospel of Luke, all the most important events in Jesus’ life are underlined by the presence of prayer: his baptism, his choosing of the Twelve Apostles, his Transfiguration, and his agony in the garden of Gethsemane on the night before he died.

Now Jesus does it again.

“Once when Jesus was praying in solitude …” is the way today’s gospel passage begins.

Why now? What significant event is about to happen?

The importance of prayer at this time in Jesus’ life is contained in the question he poses to his disciples: “Who do you say that I am?”

Furthermore, the answer you and I give to that question cuts to the chase for all of us. Who do we say Jesus is in our life? What importance does he really have?

The answer each of us gives will make all the difference because it will determine   how our life is spent, how it is lived, how it is shaped, how it is formed.

Jesus makes it very clear in today’s gospel that our answer will involve our making a choice between creative fearlessness or mediocrity; it will involve a kind of heroic daring or it will be suffocated by ordinariness.

The challenge Jesus presents to each of us is described in these words in today’s gospel reading: “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

These daunting words make it very clear that Jesus is not telling us how we can win a trip to Disneyland. He’s not describing the excitement of winning the lottery. He’s not in any way suggesting that following him will be peaches and cream.

Quite the contrary. Jesus is talking to us about death – a “dying before we die.” He’s talking about crucifying our own egos and letting go of that part of us that wants to crown our very self as Emperor and King.

Jesus is telling us as frankly as he can that following the path that he is taking will require the willingness to put an end to that part of ourselves that feels entitled and special, that part of ourselves that feels more important than anyone else, that part of ourselves that demands constant attention and approval and acclaim.

Jesus is calling us to die – to die inside, to die to our self-importance and our self-righteousness, to die to our insistence on us being considered the most valuable and precious of all.

And then he adds one final touch: the word “daily.” We are to take up our cross daily and follow him.

That’s a major undertaking. That requires a fundamental shift – from the selfishness of childhood to the selflessness of true adulthood.

How do we do that? How do we accomplish something so radical and so challenging?

Prayer.

Eucharistic prayer. Scripture prayer. Private prayer. Meditation prayer. Yoga prayer. Rosary prayer. Adoration prayer.

Christian prayer. Sufi prayer. Quaker prayer. Hebrew prayer.

Daily.

That’s why Jesus prayed so diligently and so fervently. He knew he could not follow the Father’s call without it. He knew that alone he was not strong enough. He knew that by himself he was not adequate. He knew he needed to call on the Father to send the Spirit to embolden him and to push him forward.

People have felt this same barrenness, this same hole in their soul since the beginning of time. That’s why they prayed.

“Once when Jesus was praying in solitude …”

Our response should be the same – to join him in that solitude and find him through that same practice:

Prayer.