Homily, A Kitchen Table Prayer
The Seventh Sunday after the Pentecost (Proper 12C), 2025
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church
Plant City, FL
The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF
Today’s Lectionary Readings:
Hosea 1:2-10
Psalm 85
Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19)
Luke 11:1-13
In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
One of the things I love to do when traveling is visiting other churches. I know some of you like to do the same. I especially like to visit historic churches or churches that have beautiful and elaborate architecture with lots of symbolism and theology written into it’s walls, churches like Trinity Church Boston, where my family attended a couple weeks ago.
While founded in 1733, the current building was completed in 1877 in the Richardsonian Romanesque style, the first of its kind. Like our parish, it is cruciform in shape, though significantly larger. The inside is covered by over 21,500 square feet of religious murals plus an incredible collection of elaborate stained glass windows from nine different artists. When you stand in the church your eyes are drawn not only to the front altar which is framed by a semicircle of marble, gold, and etched Scripture passages under a huge dome, but also to the central tower, right in the center of the building which opens up to more murals and windows that let the natural light in. The American Institute of Architects named Trinity Church as one of the “Ten Most Significant Buildings in the United States.”
We like churches like that don’t we? We marvel at their beauty. When we enter them they take our breath away. When we worship in them we are reminded how big our God is and how very small we are. And that is part of their purpose. They are built for the glory of the Almighty God. We like our places of worship to reflect the glory of heaven.
And not only the places, but the way we worship—our liturgies and prayers.
The architecture of the Collect, for example, the short prayer at the beginning of the mass. You can find pages of them in the prayer book just after Morning and Evening Prayer.
In seminary they teach us their design. They have three major parts.
They always start with an address and acknowledgment, for example today’s Collect begins, “O God, the protector of all who trust in thee.” Or last week, “Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, who knowest our necessities before we ask and our ignorance in asking.” That one’s a mouthful.
Then in the Collect comes the petition and the aspiration, or what we are asking for and why. Today’s says, “Increase and multiply upon us thy mercy, that thou being our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we finally lose not the things eternal.”
And finally the Collect concludes with a doxology, “through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.” Thus we have the majestic architecture of the Collect. The Cathedral of prayers.
But at the center of our faith is another prayer. A prayer that Jesus himself teaches his disciples. A prayer that is written in our gospel reading today. A prayer that we say together almost every time we gather, though with slightly different words. The Lord’s Prayer.
Now you’d imagine a prayer as central and important as this one that goes back to Christ himself has got to be a good one, right? It’s literary design has got to be majestic and grand and elaborate and beautiful. And yet, that is not exactly what we find recorded in our gospel reading today. Instead, what we find is a very simple and straightforward prayer. What we find is not an elaborate prayer written for the cathedral or the temple or the mountain top; we find that the prayer of Jesus is quite ordinary and domestic.
It begins with an address, but not with a grandiose title and an acknowledgement of great deeds—just a single word, Father. The prayer begins as quietly and as intimately as speaking with a beloved family member. Father. Abba, in Aramaic. A word spoken a hundred times a day in the home. Father. God may be a king, a victor, a creator, a wonder maker, but in this prayer that Jesus teaches to his disciples, God is simply Father.
Then we have the petition, but not a high and lofty spiritual supplication. Instead just five simple requests. The first, may your name be holy—spoken in our lives with respect, recognized as important, always on our minds. Second, may your kingdom come—not by taking us away from where we are to some promised land out there but by coming and living here among us. Third, give us our daily bread—not all the things we want and dream of but simply the basic necessities of our lives. Fourth, forgive us—we’re imperfect children. And fifth, help us avoid hard times. Five simple requests for very ordinary lives.
And then, at the end of the prayer, no conclusion or doxology at all. No epic Trinitarian affirmation of faith. No, we had to add that later, “for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory for ever and ever.” Here in the gospel of Luke, the prayer of Jesus is simple and straightforward.
This is a prayer not primarily for cathedrals or temples, but for the home. The prayer of Jesus is a domestic prayer. It is a prayer that identifies God as a beloved family member. A prayer that asks for him to visit our homes. A prayer that asks for daily bread in the kitchen. A prayer about practicing relationships and forgiveness. A prayer for wellbeing. This is a domestic prayer. For Jesus, prayer is not an expensive art designed to impress a king. For Jesus, prayer is a family conversation at the kitchen table.
Because the truth is that while God is perfectly at home on the throne, and while God is perfectly at home in the cathedral, and while God is perfectly at home in the lightning that crashes upon the mountain, and is perfectly at home among the rolling of the seas, God is most at home, in your home. God just wants to be with you. To listen to you share your struggles. To offer you mercy and encouragement. To share the intimacy of a loving conversation. And while we may have a rich tradition of artfully crafted liturgies and prayers, at the heart of it all is simply that. A kitchen table prayer.
So when you pray, don’t worry about the words or making it sound pretty. Don’t reserve it for places like churches or cathedrals. Don’t get caught up in trying to find the perfect thing to say. Prayer is simply sharing your heart with a loving father. Amen.
Questions for Reflection
- How do I typically experience prayer in my daily life, and in what ways can I make it feel more intimate and personal, like a conversation at my kitchen table?
- In what areas of my life do I need to ask for God’s daily bread, and how can I be more aware of God’s presence in those situations?
- How do I understand the concept of God as Father in my own life, and how does that affect my relationship with God?
- How can I create an environment in my home that encourages open conversations with God, fostering a deeper connection in my spiritual life?
Thoughts on Faith 