The Bartenders Prayer

First, a little joke- A termite walks into a bar and asks “Is the bar tender here?”

Edward Hays, in his book Prayer Notes to a Friend, writes his friend and tells him about the “Bartenders Prayer.”

It is not a prayer for bartenders, like this one. Nor is it a prayer from bartenders, like this one. No, it is more that looking at what bartenders do as a model for prayer.

I’ve been thinking about that. What do they do?

They welcome everybody who walks in. I don’t visit a lot of bars. None, actually. But my friends who do say they are always welcomed. And it’s not just for the business. Most say you could walk in, ask for a free glass of water, have a seat, eat the peanuts, and you would be treated as well as the person ordering bottles of champagne.

They ask you what you need. There is not a supposition that they already know what you want. They ask, and then provide it.

They uncork things. Beer bottles, bottles of wine, spirits, whatever is needed. A good bartender also helps to uncork their customer. They listen, maybe ask a question or two, and give you time to think. There is no pressure to respond.

And occasionally they have to say no. Usually done in a gentle but firm way, they tell someone that what they want will be dangerous for them and others. So they refuse to give them another drink.

What if we prayed with people that way? Welcoming them in, whoever they were, no questions, no examinations, no qualifiers.

And what if we listened to them, asked them what they needed? Over the last years of my work as a pastor I have stopped assuming I knew what to pray for a person when they came to me for prayer. On certain Sundays I invite people to come to the kneeling rail for prayer for healing. When they come I no longer assume I know why they are there. Though I may have an idea, it’s usually wrong. So I ask them, “How may I pray for you?” And that’s what I do.

And maybe if we spent more time listening, perhaps asking a rare question or two, people would open up more. There is grace in the gift of being silent.

And sometimes, rarely, we may have to say no, But do it in a gentle way. A way that helps the other become more responsible.

Maybe I ought to think of the kneeling rail at church more like the bar in the small establishment down the road.