“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

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Following upon the injunction to love God with all one’s heart, mind and soul, this forms what Jesus called “the greatest commandment”. The one follows from the other, flows from it really, rather than following after it as being something separate. You can’t love God without loving your neighbor.

Which is why I am still embarrassed by my unthinking disregard for my neighbor when I was called on to offer the blessing for a meal. About two dozen of us had gathered for a lunch meeting of the Pastoral Care Advisory Board of Children’s Medical Center of Dallas. I have served on the board for 19 years. We support the chaplaincy work of the hospital. Chaplains serve people of all faiths and no faith. They understand the spiritual nature of all physical crises, and respect the prayer practices of patients from various religious traditions. Our board is diverse enough to reflect those concerns.

My prayer was impromptu: I was making it up as I went along. Whether it made all the right points was beside the point. That it spoke for the group and not just me was more to the point. But just that point evaded me when I closed my prayer as if I were praying over a covered dish meal in the fellowship hall of our church: “… in the name of Christ we pray, Amen.”

Opening my eyes, I awakened from my prayer stupor to where I was and where I wasn’t. My rabbi friend, Asher Knight, sat across the table. I realized instantly that he wouldn’t be able to include himself in my “we”. He was polite and said nothing. My fellow board members were probably as tongue-tied as I by my faux pas: We were both probably wondering what had just happened, given that they knew me not to be an interfaith oaf.

The meeting went on. I determined to speak to Asher later. But then we addressed the need for some clergy to attend the dedication of the chapel at the new Plano hospital. Asher offered to offer the benediction. Seizing the moment, I pleaded with my Jewish colleague to remember where he was and not end his prayer inappropriately for an interfaith gathering. He smiled, we all laughed awkwardly, and I confessed my earlier sin of insensitivity.

Christians sometimes feel they have failed their Lord by not praying in Jesus’ name each and every and any time they pray. They sometimes think it a badge of courage to do so in the face of Jews and others who would be excluded by such a prayer. It’s a way of showing faithfulness to God in a world that would water down everyone’s faith in the name of niceness. As if giving offense somehow proves the rightness of one’s faith, when it more likely calls it into question.

Nonbelievers — of my religion or yours or anyone’s — cite consequences more than truth as the reason for their unbelief. Insiders reason just the opposite way: We think truth more than consequences.

Outsiders judge a religion’s truthfulness by its goodness. Does it make better people, or only make people think they are better than others? Does it unify or divide? Does it assert privilege over others, or show respect toward others?

To pray in Jesus’ name does not mean to say magic words at the end of your prayer that automatically qualify it for being heard. To pray in Jesus’ name qualifies your prayer by purging it of all selfishness and laying it open to the will and way of Jesus. If that is your intent anyway, the coda that includes the name of Christ adds nothing of substance, only style.

When we pray in public, all those gathered grant us unspoken permission to pray on their behalf. To deliberately ignore or exclude them when we pray fails the “love our neighbor as ourselves” test — which, as it follows, also fails the love of God test.

George Mason is pastor of Wilshire Baptist Church. The Worship section is a regular feature underwritten by Advocate Publishing and by the neighborhood business people and churches listed on these pages. For information about helping support the Worship section, call 214.560.4202.