PRAYER AND HATE

“One of the brothers said to Abba Zeno, ‘When I pray, my thoughts turn to things of this world.’ The old man replied, ‘If you would be heard before God, pray for your enemies before you pray for yourself. This will amaze the angels and the Lord will hear your prayer.’ ”—from The Sayings of the Desert Fathers

There are people I despise. I don’t actually hate anybody, at least I don’t think I do, but that’s because the people I despise really aren’t worth hating. This isn’t good for a Christian. It’s worse for a priest, who stands at God’s Altar to reconcile men and women to God.

That failure is a reality of my spiritual life. It’s lessens my usefulness to God. It hinders my prayer.

I’ve prayed for those I despise. Many years ago, when I confessed the fact that there was a person I loathed, my confessor had me pray for them every day, in the morning and at night, for a month. At first, I could barely bring myself to say his name to God. I did it out of sheer obedience. As the month progressed, I discovered I could not only say his name, but pray that God would give him good things.

I never wanted to invite him for dinner and I never did. But God healed the rancor of my heart. My loathing gave way to pity. When pity took root, I found the pleasure I took in hating him was gone. I didn’t like him, I kept my distance, but I knew he was God’s child as much as I, and in as much need as I of mercy.

It’s not always so easy. Some people we can’t stand we can’t avoid. They may be co-workers, family members (“you can choose your friends…”), or the people who live next door. The Lord Jesus didn’t say, “Love your enemies or at least, keep ‘em at a distance.” He loved those who pounded nails into Him; He prayed for their forgiveness not after the fact, but while they were killing Him.

When I can’t escape the person I despise, my prayer—even if it’s no more than saying their name to God through gritted teeth—will be difficult. God knows. He expects it anyway. We see only what we can wearing the blinders we do. That’s true of me, of you, and the person I can’t abide. That gritty and imperfect charity we show when we pray for our enemies is a sweet savor to God, the Lover of All.

He knows you and I love and hate. He doesn’t want Polyanna’s of the spirit, but men and women who will follow where the Gospel leads. Those who can pray for their enemies, and release the floodgates of His charity into the lives of those round them.