Lord, Teach Us to Pray

Most Catholics could pray the Our Father in their sleep, and some nights we come close to doing just that. We likely learned the prayer before we could read; we say it at every Mass, and we pass through it six times in a single Rosary. Familiarity has a way of sanding the edges off its first word. Jesus told his disciples to begin with “Father,” and a man who calls God Father has just admitted something about everyone else who says the word with him: they’re his brothers and sisters, and he has to eat at the same table as them. That’s where most of us get into trouble. We’re glad to be sons and daughters on Sunday. Being a brother on Monday, to the coworker who takes the credit, the relative who votes what we consider to be the wrong way, the parishioner who’s always sitting in our pew, is a harder thing.

Today’s readings set the two halves of that prayer side by side. In Galatians, Paul tells how the pillars of the Jerusalem church gave him and Barnabas the right hand of fellowship, and then how Peter himself, a short time later in Antioch, began to slip away from the table he had shared with Gentile believers, because he was afraid of what certain visitors would think. Paul confronted him to his face. In the Gospel, the disciples watch Jesus at prayer and ask him to teach them, and he gives them the prayer that begins with the very word that Peter’s retreat contradicted.

Today the Church keeps the Memorial of Our Lady of the Rosary, a prayer whose every decade opens with those same words. So here’s the question these readings put to you and me: do we mean the first word of the prayer we say most often?

The Readings

First Reading: Galatians 2:1-2, 7-14

Then after fourteen years I went up again to Jerusalem with Barnabas, taking Titus along with me. I went up by revelation; and I laid before them (but privately before those who were of repute) the gospel which I preach among the Gentiles, lest somehow I should be running or had run in vain.

But on the contrary, when they saw that I had been entrusted with the gospel to the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been entrusted with the gospel to the circumcised (for he who worked through Peter for the mission to the circumcised worked through me also for the Gentiles), and when they perceived the grace that was given to me, James and Cephas and John, who were reputed to be pillars, gave to me and Barnabas the right hand of fellowship, that we should go to the Gentiles and they to the circumcised; only they would have us remember the poor, which very thing I was eager to do.

But when Cephas came to Antioch I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned. For before certain men came from James, he ate with the Gentiles; but when they came he drew back and separated himself, fearing the circumcision party. And with him the rest of the Jews acted insincerely, so that even Barnabas was carried away by their insincerity. But when I saw that they were not straightforward about the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?”

Gospel: Luke 11:1-4

He was praying in a certain place, and when he ceased, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” And he said to them, “When you pray, say:

“Father, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread; and forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive every one who is indebted to us; and lead us not into temptation.”

Scriptural Analysis

Paul is still telling his own story, in defense of the gospel he preaches to the Gentiles. “Then after fourteen years I went up again to Jerusalem with Barnabas, taking Titus along with me.” Titus was a Greek and uncircumcised, and Cardinal Albert Vanhoye and Peter Williamson suggest Paul brought him along to put a very human face on the Gentile mission for the leaders in Jerusalem. Paul says he went “by revelation” and laid his gospel before the leaders privately, “lest somehow I should be running or had run in vain.” That last phrase can sound like nerves. Vanhoye and Williamson hear something better in it. Paul had no doubts about his gospel; what worried him was remaining in communion with mother church. “It was not enough to preach the gospel accurately. It was also necessary to maintain unity with the mother church.”¹

The Lectionary skips the fight over Titus (Galatians 2:3-6), where “false brethren” wanted him circumcised and Paul refused to yield to them even for a moment. It picks up with the outcome. The leaders “saw that I had been entrusted with the gospel to the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been entrusted with the gospel to the circumcised.” James and Cephas and John, “reputed to be pillars,” gave Paul and Barnabas “the right hand of fellowship.” The Greek is koinōnia (koy-noh-NEE-ah), and Vanhoye and Williamson explain that the word goes beyond mere agreement and “expresses personal bonds of cooperation and solidarity.” Two missions, one Church: “Communion among apostles who are engaged in diverse missions guarantees the unity of the Church.” There was only one condition attached: remember the poor. Frank Matera notes that the Jerusalem church probably thought of itself as “the poor,” the people who relied on God alone, and that Paul’s great collection for Jerusalem was meant to be more than relief money. It bound his Gentile churches to the mother church.²

Then the scene shifts north to Antioch, the great city of Syria where the disciples were first called Christians (Acts 11:26). “But when Cephas came to Antioch I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned.” Vanhoye and Williamson admire the manner of it: Paul “had the courage to confront him to his face.” And they draw a conclusion a Catholic reader shouldn’t miss. “Peter’s importance in the Church is implicitly acknowledged by the fact that his conduct matters so much.”³ Nobody writes a letter about where a minor figure ate lunch. The fact that Paul places such emphasis on this encounter demonstrates the importance of Saint Peter.

Here’s what happened. Peter had been eating with the Gentile believers, a freedom he learned the hard way in the house of Cornelius (Acts 10:28). Then “certain men came from James,” and Peter “drew back and separated himself, fearing the circumcision party.” Matera points out that both Greek verbs, hypestellen (hoo-PEH-stel-len) and aphōrizen (ah-FOR-ee-zen), are in the imperfect tense, which suggests a gradual retreat: a missed meal here, another table there. The other Jewish believers followed him, “so that even Barnabas was carried away.” Vanhoye and Williamson describe Peter’s choice as a pragmatic one, with no doctrine behind it. He wanted to keep the peace with Jerusalem. The result was a church split into two tables. Paul calls it hypocrisy, and the verb he uses, Matera says, means to play-act by masking one’s true feelings.⁴

Then the rebuke, in front of everyone: “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?” Vanhoye and Williamson are careful about the scope of it. “Paul’s approach does not in any way call into question Peter’s doctrine or his customary conduct.” It concerns one stretch of behavior that contradicted what Peter himself believed. The episode embarrassed readers for centuries. Saint Jerome thought the quarrel was staged; Saint Augustine argued by letter for a decade that it was real, and Saint Thomas Aquinas later sided with Augustine. Paul never tells us how Peter took the correction, but Vanhoye and Williamson reason that if Peter had been known to reject it, Paul’s whole argument would have collapsed, since Peter’s own practice would have refuted it. And they state the Catholic balance plainly. The same Church that believes the Holy Spirit protects Peter’s successor when he defines doctrine has always admitted that “Peter himself was capable of making mistakes in the way he fulfilled his ministry.”⁵

Turning then to the Gospel, and a quieter scene. Jesus “was praying in a certain place.” Pablo Gadenz notes that Luke leaves the place vague and keeps our eyes on what Jesus was doing. Saint Cyril of Alexandria, in the Catena Aurea (kah-TAY-nah OW-ray-ah) of Saint Thomas, asks why the Son, who needs nothing, would pray at all, and answers that he prayed “that He might teach us … to be the more diligent and earnest in our prayers.”⁶ The Catechism draws the lesson from this very verse: “In seeing the Master at prayer the disciple of Christ also wants to pray.” Luke gives the prayer in five petitions, and Matthew in seven, and the Church’s liturgy has kept Matthew’s fuller form.⁷

“When you pray, say: Father.” Gadenz explains that the Old Testament calls God Father chiefly in relation to Israel as a whole or to its king. Jesus teaches ordinary people to address God that way as a matter of course, probably with the Aramaic Abba (AH-bah). “To name God Abba or ‘Father’ in prayer expresses a family bond.” The title carries an obligation, though. Saint Gregory of Nyssa, in the Catena, imagines God answering a man who says the word while living a corrupt life: “thou pollutest with thy defiled lips an incorruptible name. For He who commanded thee to call Him Father, gave thee not leave to utter lies.”⁸

“Hallowed be thy name.” Luke Timothy Johnson notes that the sanctification of the Name was an old feature of Jewish prayer; the Kaddish (KAH-dish) began, “Magnified and sanctified be his great name.” Gadenz hears Ezekiel behind the passive verb: “I will sanctify my great name” (Ezekiel 36:23). God hallows his own name, and we ask him to do it in us, so that our lives reflect his holiness.⁹

“Give us each day our daily bread.” The word for daily, epiousios (eh-pee-OO-see-os), turns up nowhere in Greek literature before the Gospels, and Gadenz shows how the Fathers read it on two levels at once: bread for the body, and the Eucharist, the bread of life. He hears the manna too, given “each day” in the wilderness (Exodus 16:4), food for a journey. And Johnson notes that Luke puts the verb in the present tense, so the sense is “keep giving us,” day after day.¹⁰

“And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive every one who is indebted to us.” Gadenz notices that Luke’s version says “every one,” a word Matthew doesn’t have, and that the language of debt and release, aphesis (AH-feh-sis), recalls the jubilee Jesus announced in the synagogue at Nazareth (Luke 4:18). Saint Cyril says that with this petition Christ wishes, “if I may so speak, to make God the imitator of the patience which men practise.” The Catechism calls the condition daunting: “this outpouring of mercy cannot penetrate our hearts as long as we have not forgiven those who have trespassed against us.”¹¹

“And lead us not into temptation.” Gadenz explains that the Greek peirasmos (PAY-ras-mos) covers both temptation and the trials God permits, so the petition asks for protection from the evil one and strength to endure. Johnson points ahead to the garden, where Jesus tells these same disciples, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation” (Luke 22:40).¹²

Put the two readings side by side, and Antioch looks like one of those trials. Peter learned to say “Father” from the Lord himself, standing in the circle of disciples in today’s Gospel. Then, under pressure from people he wanted to keep happy, he quietly moved to another table and left his Gentile brothers eating alone. Paul’s rebuke is the Our Father turned into action: if God is Father to both tables, there can only be one. And the Church never let the quarrel divide the two apostles. Vanhoye and Williamson note that Christian tradition bears witness to the unity of Peter and Paul and commemorates them together in the liturgy.¹³

Daily Application

The interior movement these readings ask for is to pray as a son and live as a brother, and to notice where the two are no longer aligned with one another. Peter’s slide at Antioch was gradual, a little distance at a time, and Paul describes it with the language of an actor behind a mask. We say “Father” with the parish on Sunday, and by Tuesday we’ve found a reason to sit somewhere else: the in-law we steer around at family dinners, the coworker whose politics we can’t stand, the newcomer who doesn’t fit our crowd. Gregory of Nyssa’s warning is written for us. The God who told us to call him Father does not permit us to say it falsely.

Start with the prayer itself. Pray the Our Father once today, slowly, deliberately, and stop at the clause Luke gives us: for we ourselves forgive every one. Put a name there. If the name sticks in your throat, that’s worth noting, and it’s worth bringing to confession this week. Then ask for the grace to forgive, and keep asking. Johnson’s present tense fits this petition too: keep giving us.

Then, pick up your rosary. Franciscan Media recounts that Pope Saint Pius V established today’s feast as Our Lady of Victory, in thanksgiving for the Christian victory at Lepanto in 1571, which was attributed to praying the rosary, and that Pope Pius XII called the rosary a compendium of the gospel. The Catechism uses nearly the same words, calling it an “epitome of the whole Gospel.”¹⁴ Each decade opens with today’s Gospel prayer and then sets you beside Mary to contemplate her Son. Pray one decade today for the Holy Father and the bishops. Vanhoye and Williamson end their reflection on Antioch in exactly that place: since Peter himself could err in the way he carried out his ministry, “this is all the more reason why we Catholics should pray that the Lord guide the pope and the bishops.”¹⁵

Last, learn something from the way Paul did it. He went to Peter directly, for the truth of the gospel. If you owe someone a correction, a brother in the faith who’s drifting toward a separate table, say it to his face and say it in charity. Leave the rest to the Father you both pray to. And if you’re the one being corrected, take it the way Peter seems to have taken it. The Church has honored him and Paul together ever since.

Say “Father” today and mean it. Pull up a chair for the brother you’ve been avoiding, pray your Rosary for Peter’s successor, and ask Mary to teach you to pray the way her Son taught his friends.

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Notes

1. ↑ Albert Vanhoye and Peter S. Williamson, Galatians, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2019), 61-63.
2. ↑ Vanhoye and Williamson, Galatians, 68-70; Frank J. Matera, Galatians, Sacra Pagina 9 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992), 78.
3. ↑ Vanhoye and Williamson, Galatians, 73.
4. ↑ Matera, Galatians, 86, 90; Vanhoye and Williamson, Galatians, 74-76.
5. ↑ Vanhoye and Williamson, Galatians, 77-79.
6. ↑ Pablo T. Gadenz, The Gospel of Luke, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2018), 218; Saint Cyril of Alexandria, quoted in Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea: Commentary on the Four Gospels, Collected out of the Works of the Fathers, vol. 3, St. Luke (Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1843), on Luke 11:1-4.
7. ↑ Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd ed. (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1997), nos. 2601, 2759.
8. ↑ Gadenz, Gospel of Luke, 219; Saint Gregory of Nyssa, On the Lord’s Prayer 2, quoted in Aquinas, Catena Aurea, vol. 3, St. Luke, on Luke 11:1-4.
9. ↑ Luke Timothy Johnson, The Gospel of Luke, Sacra Pagina 3 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1991), 177; Gadenz, Gospel of Luke, 219.
10. ↑ Gadenz, Gospel of Luke, 220-221; Johnson, Gospel of Luke, 177-178.
11. ↑ Gadenz, Gospel of Luke, 221; Saint Cyril of Alexandria, quoted in Aquinas, Catena Aurea, vol. 3, St. Luke, on Luke 11:1-4; Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 2840.
12. ↑ Gadenz, Gospel of Luke, 221; Johnson, Gospel of Luke, 178.
13. ↑ Vanhoye and Williamson, Galatians, 77 n. 4.
14. ↑ “Our Lady of the Rosary,” Saint of the Day, Franciscan Media, accessed October 4, 2026, franciscanmedia.org; Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 971.
15. ↑ Vanhoye and Williamson, Galatians, 79-80.

Books Cited

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• Albert Vanhoye and Peter S. Williamson, Galatians, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture (Baker Academic, 2019)
• Frank J. Matera, Galatians, Sacra Pagina 9 (Liturgical Press, 1992)
• Pablo T. Gadenz, The Gospel of Luke, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture (Baker Academic, 2018)
• Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea: Commentary on the Four Gospels, four-volume edition (Baronius Press)
• Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd ed. (Doubleday / Image, 2003)
• Luke Timothy Johnson, The Gospel of Luke, Sacra Pagina 3 (Liturgical Press, 1991)