The Lord’s Prayer: The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory

For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours now and forever.

   
     This majestic ending of the Lord's Prayer, so familiar to all of us, is not part of the prayer as Jesus taught it. Luke shows no acquaintance with it, and the best manuscripts of Matthew omit it. It is an addition made by the early church. It was made very early: by the end of the first century Christians were praying the prayer in a form that is quite similar to the one that is traditional among us today.

     Roman Catholic piety bears appropriate testimony to the distinction between this ending and the rest of the prayer. The form prescribed for individual prayer ends with "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." But the form prescribed for the assembled church in its liturgy ends with “For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours now and forever. Amen."

     The early church did not invent this closing praise out of thin air. They found it in scripture. It is clearly based on the prayer that the chronicler places in David's mouth as David finishes assembling all the materials for the great temple that his son Solomon will build:

Blessed are you, O LORD, the God of our ancestor Israel, forever and ever. Yours, O LORD, are the greatness, the power, the glory, the victory, and the majesty; for all that is in the heavens and on the earth is yours; yours is the kingdom, O LORD, and you are exalted as head above all (1 Chron. 29:10-11).

     Jesus taught this prayer before the triumph of the resurrection. According to Luke, he was on the way to Jerusalem, with the shadow of the cross falling across his face. Appropriately, he ended the prayer on a somber note: "Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil." But the early church, which had experienced the cross and the resurrection and the spread of the gospel under persecution and the glory of martyrdoms, felt compelled to add a note of triumph. "Save us from the time of trial" is a cry of anguish and "Deliver us from evil" is a final outburst. The early church was unwilling to leave it there.

     Should we, on the basis of the best manuscripts, knowing that Jesus did not teach this part of the prayer, leave it out when we pray it in worship? Or should we continue to accept the liturgical practice of the church all the way back to the first century? I would choose to leave it in. Only sheer ingratitude and historical ignorance would impel anyone to ban these words from the contemporary liturgies of the church.

     This part of the prayer is not a request. It’s an affirmation. The affirmation corresponds in an interesting way to the first three petitions. We pray "Hallowed be your name"; and we affirm "The glory…[is] yours." We pray "Your kingdom come"; and we affirm "The kingdom…[is] yours." We pray "Your will be done"; and we affirm "The power…[is] yours." We are saying that what we have asked for is present fact, already done. What we pray for is the ultimate truth about the universe. Our prayer has its answer as we make it. This goes along with the teaching of Jesus: “So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours" (Mark 11:24).

     At the heart of biblical faith we do not find an airtight argument sealed with a therefore--all's right with the world, therefore let us have faith, therefore let us praise God. At the heart of biblical faith we find something that does not logically follow at all, sealed with a nevertheless. Much is wrong with the world; the mystery of evil is great, nevertheless let us have faith, nevertheless let us praise God.

     Herod is king and has slain the innocent children of Bethlehem. Nero is king and has burned Christians as torches for his garden party. In our century the rulers of the nations have ordered the death of more children than Herod ever dreamed of, of more Christians than existed in Nero's day. Today's rulers—including our own—still possess weapons capable of the destruction of the entire human race. Nevertheless, the kingdom is God’s! Herod has the power to make refugees of the poor. Pilate has the power of capital punishment. In our century there are refugees by the millions. Hundreds wait on death row. The powerful grow more powerful and get their will done ruthlessly. The powerless grow weaker and less able to get anything they want. When the church tries to play the power game, it loses its authority. God sides with the powerless and seems weak and foolish. Nevertheless, the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength (1 Cor. 1:25). Nevertheless, the power is God’s!

     Augustus reigns in glory; so do the rulers of this present age. Crowds still cheer the gladiators; in our day the glory belongs to the athletes and the entertainers and the TV comics. God's name is despised and dishonored. Nevertheless, the glory is God’s!

     Does the prayer end with a great self-deception? Are we saying that what is obviously not true is true after all? Not exactly. The Hebrew prophets used some unusual grammar. They spoke of the certain future in the present tense. What God says will be, already is! The end of our prayer declares that in spite of those who presently exercise the rule and the power and the glory, in spite of climate change and the weapons buildup and all else that threatens us, this is the world's future: God's name will be hallowed, God's kingdom will come, The will of God will be done! We cannot say how or when, but the promises of God stand sure. So we end our prayer by shouting in the grammar of the prophets, “Tomorrow is here!“ When we add this word of praise to the Lord's Prayer, along with the early church, we are leaping ahead, so to speak, to claim our places in the “Hallelujah Chorus” of the end-time.

     It’s the custom to stand for the "Hallelujah Chorus" when Handel's Messiah is performed? Why? Not just because a king of England stood long ago. Because that magnificent text from Revelation declares our wildest hopes to be present truth, and Handel found music that says, "Yes, it is true after all!"

     Quiet, now. Can you hear it above the wails of the ambulances, fire engines, and police cars? Above the whine of jets carrying death on their wings, the throbbing of submarines carrying death into the depths of the sea, the crash of falling bombs, the roar of helicopters, the rattle of small arms? Above the partisan debates in Congress? Above the relaxing sounds that numb our eardrums to the uglier noises of life? Do you hear it?

    The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord
    and of his Messiah,
    and he will reign forever and ever (Rev. 11:15).

To which we say, "Amen!" It is so. May it be so. And may we live now as though it were already so. Amen and amen.