The Prayers We Don’t Say

It has always confused me: why a judge?

Jesus could have compared prayer to the subject who requests a gift of his king. He could have compared it to the child who asks a favor of a parent. But in the parable of the widow and the judge, Jesus compares prayer — specifically constant, unwearying prayer — with the marginalized person who doggedly pursues her claim through an unforgiving legal system.

It’s not a rosy or reassuring picture. So what is he trying to tell us?

Unlike a king or a parent, a judge has strictly drawn lines which he cannot, under any circumstances, cross. He can only help people who bring their case to court. Even good, earnest judges cannot render justice if charges are not brought.

God is all-powerful. But that doesn’t make Him a meddler. He will not force his way into our problems. What would be the point? What is our life on earth for, if it is not to teach us how to turn willingly to God, in every instance — adoration, gratitude, need?

Today, I sat down and made a list of problems I don’t pray about. When I was done, I looked at the list and asked myself: why not? Why don’t I pray about these things? Some are huge issues over which I have absolutely no control, and prayer feels futile. Some are small grievances I never even considered mentioning to God.

If I prayed about them all, my life would be totally consumed by prayer. Constant, unwearying prayer. The kind of prayer Jesus calls me to in the parable of the widow and the judge: continual surrender of myself to the mysterious, limitless power of God.

Praying that way could make me tired. The widow was tired, too — but she kept bringing her charges. She got justice. And her judge wasn’t even a nice guy.

So say the prayer. Bring the charges. Our judge is one who wants to help, but He won’t overstep His bounds.

©LPi