The Lord's Prayer

Our Father

There is one brief sentence in the Compendium of Theology that not only reveals a core conviction of Aquinas but also alerts us to the fundamental character of his spirituality. He writes: ‘The confidence a human being has in God ought to be most certain.’ Confidence—that is the word, the key word, which more than any other in Aquinas’s writing gives us access to his understanding of the Our Father, and indeed to his understanding of prayer in general. On one occasion, speaking to a packed church at Naples, he declared: ‘Of all the things required of us when we pray confidence is of great avail.’ And he went on then to remark: ‘For this reason … Our Lord, in teaching us how to pray, sets out before us those things which engender confidence in us, such as the loving kindness of a father, implied in the words, Our Father.’

But in what sense is it true to say that God is our Father? Thomas answers this question by drawing the attention of his listeners to the mystery of creation: ‘We call him Father by reason of his having created us in a special manner, viz. to his own image and likeness, which he did not impress on other creatures here below.’ There follows, then, this brief, wonderful statement, so characteristic of Aquinas: ‘He governs us as masters of ourselves.’ Because of the special manner in which we were created we have, Thomas tells us, ‘mastery’ over our own acts. And, what is more, by being reborn in baptism, we have begun to enjoy, to an extraordinary degree, the freedom of the children of God. He quotes Rom. 8:15: ‘You have not received the spirit of bondage again in fear; but you have received the spirit of adoption of sons whereby we cry: Abba, Father.’

Adopted now as sons and daughters of the one Father, we are able, Thomas tells us, to live our lives in the hope of an eternal inheritance. Hope, a truly amazing hope, is quickened within us by simply saying the words ‘Our Father’. In the Compendium of Theology, he writes:

Through the ‘spirit of adoption’ that we receive, we cry: ‘Abba, Father,’ as it is said in Romans 8:15. For that reason our Lord began his prayer by calling upon the Father, saying ‘Father’ to teach us that our prayer must be based on this hope. By uttering the name ‘Father’, our affection is made ready to pray with a pure disposition and to obtain what we hope for.

Not surprisingly, the word ‘Father’ is also the focus of attention for several entries in St Thomas’s Catena Aurea. And of the passages cited, the one I find the most striking is the following passage from Pseudo-Augustine:

The first word, how gracious is it? You don’t dare to raise your face to heaven, and suddenly you receive the grace of Christ. From an evil servant you are made a good son. So rely not, then, on what you can do yourself, but on the grace of Christ. For, in that, there is no arrogance, but faith. To proclaim what you have received is not pride, but devotion. Therefore, raise your eyes to the Father who begot you by Baptism and redeemed you by his Son.

When reflecting, in the Summa, on the nature of prayer, Thomas lists a number of ‘conditions requisite for prayer’. One of them is that ‘there should be petition.’ That, for Thomas, is clearly fundamental. Nevertheless, it is not the first condition he mentions. The first imperative listed is that, in one’s approach to God, there should be ‘a raising up of one’s mind to God.’ This idea or statement is so simple, and so seemingly obvious, it might very easily be overlooked. But it does, I think, merit reflection. For a start, it recalls a text St Thomas included, at one point, in the Lucan Catena Aurea. There we are told that, as soon as we start to pray the Lord’s Prayer, we should not ‘break first into petition.’ Instead, we are encouraged, before doing anything else, to give our attention to our Father in heaven. In other words, to ‘forget all visible and invisible creatures’, and ‘commence with the praise of Him who created all things.’

The first of the petitions in the Lord’s Prayer, Hallowed be thy name, is focused not on the immediate attainment of our own needs but rather on the praise of God. St Thomas, in the Compendium of Theology, writes: ‘The petition is put first because, as Chrysostom says, the person who would offer a worthy prayer to God should ask for nothing before the Father’s glory, but should make everything come after the praise of Him.’

That we should aim to become as self-forgetful as possible in our love and worship of God goes without saying. But love of God and love of self are not ultimately opposed. The very act of praise itself brings with it a grace of human fulfilment, and that is something St Thomas never allows himself to forget. He has no hesitation, therefore, in openly acknowledging the hidden, self-fulfilling element in even the most pure act of praise. On one occasion, he even goes so far as to include (in the Catena Aurea) a passage from St Augustine in which the simple ‘usefulness’ of praise is emphasized. The text reads: ‘In every entreaty we have first to win the good favour of the one whom we entreat, and after that mention what it is we entreat. And this we generally do in praise of the one to whom our prayer is directed, and place it in front of our prayer. And that’s the reason our Lord bids us say no more than, Our Father who art in heaven.’

The text then changes direction, and speaks of the utter freshness and surprise of the revelation brought to us by Christ:

Many things [in the past] were said in praise of God. But we do not find that the people of Israel were taught to address God as ‘Our Father’ … With regard to Christ’s people, however, the Apostle says, We have received the spirit of adoption whereby we cry Abba, Father and that not of our deserving, but of grace. This, then, we express in the prayer when we say Father: which name also stirs up love. For what can be dearer than sons and daughters are to a father?

The word ‘Father’ is a small word but, by pronouncing it in prayer, and in particular by repeating the phrase ‘Our Father’, we are achieving ‘five things’, Thomas tells us in his Lectures on St Matthew. First of all, the words ‘instruct us in our faith’; second, they ‘raise our hopes’; third, ‘they serve to stimulate charity’; fourth, they invite us ‘to imitate God’; and fifth, they call us ‘to humility’. The claim being made here for two small words is astonishing, though it is a claim Thomas is well able to defend. No less astonishing, in its way, at least to the uninitiated, is the dogged, intellectual manner of Thomas’s exposition, his great fondness for making distinctions. This fondness, this inclination on almost every occasion, to separate out one thing from another, betrays of course the strong scholastic impulse in Aquinas, an impulse that is still operative even when he is engaged in the task of preaching. But, here, Thomas is speaking to us not as a preacher but as a theologian, a Master of the Sacred Page. And the first thing to which he wants to draw our attention is that, simply by saying the word ‘Father’, we overcome ‘three errors’, which, if we were to adhere to them in practice, would be fatal for our life of prayer.

The first error is the idea that God is simply not concerned about us. ‘On this view,’ Thomas says, ‘it is a waste of time asking God for anything.’ The second error is the idea that since everything in the world is, from the beginning, subject to a fixed fate there is no point whatever in praying. ‘The third error,’ Thomas says, ‘concedes too much, saying that the loving providence of God is, in some way, radically changed by our prayer.’ Thomas, confident in his response to these challenging questions, asserts that all three errors are, in fact, ‘eliminated’ by the Lord teaching us to say Our Father who art in heaven. In the first place, being a Father, God exercises a most attentive providence over all his children. And his children, his sons and daughters, are free men and women; they are not slaves subject to the constraints of necessity. And, as for prayer, although it is true that it is never able to alter providence, nevertheless ‘God’s providence arranges for such and such a boon to be granted to us by such and such a prayer.’ This statement—the full meaning of this statement—contains a paradox that the human mind finds impossible to grasp. How are we to begin to understand in what way the prayers that we offer for ourselves and for others make a difference? One of the best commentators on this key question is the Dominican, Brian Davies. He writes: ‘[T]he fact that God exists changelessly and works in everything does not mean that my prayer cannot be a cause of something coming about by virtue of God’s will … though nothing can cause God to will what he has not willed from eternity, God may will from eternity that things should come about in accordance with my prayers and, therefore, as answers to them.’ And again:

Aquinas agrees that God gives much without being asked, but he also thinks that God wants to give us some things because we ask him to do so, so that we may be confident in going to him and so that we might recognize him as the source of all good. God, says Aquinas, ‘gives us many things out of sheer generosity. The reason why he wants to give us some things in response to our petition is that it is profitable for us to acquire a certain confidence in running to him, and to recognize that he is the source of all that is good for us’ (ST 2a2ae, 83, 2).

Acquiring confidence in the love of God, and in the willingness of God to hear and answer our prayer—that, for Aquinas, is of supreme importance. He writes: ‘Prayer is offered to God not that we might make him change his mind [literally “bend him”], but that we might excite in ourselves the confidence to ask: and this confidence is particularly aroused by the consideration of his love for us … and that’s why we say Our Father.’

So, these two simple words, Our Father, not only constitute in some way a brief defence of the Christian faith, in the judgement of Aquinas, they are also a wondrous—albeit tiny—revelation of its profound wisdom and teaching.

But why are we instructed, in the Lord’s Prayer, to say ‘our’ and not ‘my’ Father? Thomas asks this question in his ‘commentary’ on Matthew. And he replies: ‘the Lord is teaching us not to make private prayers, but to pray generally for the whole people; this kind of prayer is more acceptable to God. In Chrysostom’s words, “In God’s eyes a prayer is more pleasing if comes from fraternal love rather than from need.” Pray for one another (Jas 5:16).’ The same question about why we say ‘our’ instead of ‘my’ is raised once again by St Thomas in the Compendium of Theology. This time the answer he gives places an even greater emphasis on fraternal love in the context of Christian prayer. He writes:

Those who recognize themselves as children of God, ought, among other things, to imitate our Lord especially in love, as Ephesians 5:1–2 says: Imitate God as his most dear children, and walk in love. God’s love is not just for one individual, but embraces all in common; for God loves ‘all things that are,’ as it is said in Wisdom 11:25. Most of all he loves human beings, according to Deuteronomy 33:3: He loved the people. Consequently, as Cyprian puts it, ‘prayer for us is public and common; and when we pray, we do not pray for one person only, but for the whole people, because we are all together one people.’ Or, as Chrysostom says, ‘Necessity forces us to pray for ourselves, but fraternal charity impels us to pray for others.’ And that’s why we say, ‘our Father,’ and not simply ‘my Father’.

When we are saying our prayers, our hope is in God first and last. That goes without saying. Nevertheless, the prayers which we say out of kindness for others, or which others say for us, can also form part of a providential grace. ‘[W]e can assist one another,’ Thomas notes, ‘to obtain more easily what we ask for.’ And, by way of evidence, he quotes a short text from Jas 5:16: Pray for one another that you may be saved. Then he continues:

For, as Ambrose reminds us, ‘many humble people [minimi], when they are gathered together, and are united in spirit, become powerful, and the prayers of many cannot but be heard.’ This agrees with Matthew 18:19: If two of you on earth should agree to ask anything at all, it shall be done to them by my Father who is in heaven. Therefore we do not put forth our prayers as individuals, but with unanimous accord we cry out, ‘Our Father’.