“I prayed in the name of my Prophet and the name of your Prophet that you will be blessed.” This is what the young man said to me. Earlier, he asked me if I knew of a private place to pray. It is normative for students to pray in the college library where I work. On this day, the usual space set aside for this purpose was not available.
I explained that my office contains images that may be bothersome for a Muslim person. He brushed aside my apologies, assuring me that he would not be distracted by the quasi-religious images or my assorted kitsch. Hanging prominently on my walls are six diplomas and two framed prints. One print depicts the historic eighteenth-century John Street Methodist Church, the first established Methodist church in America, and the other Norman Rockwell’s ecumenical interpretation of “The Golden Rule.” The latter is my favorite because it features several people of different nationalities and faiths standing together with a superimposed caption: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” I also have an eight-inch wooden cross decorated with a hand-painted image of a Black African Jesus and a white dove hovering over planet Earth.
I was assisting another student when the young man announced he had finished his prayers. As he walked away, I marveled at his words. I have never prayed in the name of his Prophet nor could I imagine doing so. That would mean conversion to Islam. I reckoned that praying in my prophet’s name was okay since the Qur’an recognizes the Son of Mary as a prophet. I pray in the name of Jesus because he is more than a prophet to me. The traditional African American spiritual song “Balm in Gilead” refers to him as one who can “make the wounded whole” and “heal the sin-sick soul.”
As a young child in the Assemblies of God, my Sunday School teachers taught us there is power in the name of Jesus. However, we were cautioned to reserve that level of power for the most intense prayers, such as the salvation of the soul, physical healing, and exorcism of evil spirits. Later in life when I joined the United Methodist Church, I had to learn their ways of liturgical prayer and their custom of adding “in the name of Jesus” to casual table graces. I want to be perfectly clear on this point. I have experienced God’s comforting presence in times of abundance and scarcity alike, so gratitude to God is always high on my list of priorities. However, in my family home, we rarely invoked the name of God or Jesus for saying table grace. Anytime Abuelita, my grandmother, prefaced her prayers with “Señor” they did not need a tagline. A simple “amén” at the end sufficed. On the other hand, big prayers for blessings or other special occasions might elicit the double dose “amén y amén.”
When I entered the seminary, I learned that the holy name of God had been preserved for millennia in the mysterious Tetragrammaton. This theological term refers to the four Hebrew letters that together represent the sacred name of God. Since the Hebrew text originally had no vowel markings, “The Name” was considered unpronounceable. Even if you could figure out how to vocalize “The Name,” you dared not risk blasphemy by saying it out loud. Curiously, some of my professors taught us how to pronounce the ineffable name of God. This seemed bizarre to me. I don’t believe for a minute they were anti-Semitic, though this action may be considered disrespectful to my Jewish friends. I have since wondered about their preference for the term “Old Testament” as opposed to the term “Hebrew Bible.” Was it rooted in the historic anti-Jewish bias of the church? Proponents of “replacement theology” taught that the church replaced Israel as God’s covenantal people. I firmly reject this position as unbiblical, anti-Semitic, and anti-Jewish.
The Masoretes added vowels to the Hebrew Tetragrammaton as an aid to vocalization, though no one was expected to pronounce “The Name.” Jerome, translator of the Hebrew Bible into the Latin Vulgate, did not help matters. He famously mistranslated the description of Moses which suggested that he had horns coming out of his head. The Anglicized version of the Latin Vulgate appears as the familiar rendition “Jehovah.” Many of the English translators, mindful to avoid blasphemy, chose to substitute the sacred name with the capital letters “LORD.” Despite my own attempts to isolate the memory of the sounds, I still remember reciting “The Name” in seminary. For me, “The Name” revealed in the Hebrew Bible is still too holy to vocalize. I have similar feelings respecting the name of Jesus, though I do pronounce his name regularly.
When I pray in the name of Jesus, it is not to add potency or validity to my prayers. I do so because of the meaning of the name. His Hebrew name “Yeshua” means “salvation.” The term testifies to God’s faithfulness to redeem Abraham’s progeny because of God’s unbreakable covenant. In my faith tradition, non-Jews can benefit spiritually from the Abrahamic covenant by putting their faith in Jesus. Paul uses the example of a wild olive shoot, Gentiles, being grafted to the more mature olive tree, Israel, to explain this special relationship (Romans 11:17-24). When we pray in Jesus’ name, we should exercise extreme humility, remembering that our place in God’s covenantal community is not by our merit but by grace alone.
My mother-in-law had many interesting experiences as a Christian praying in the Jewish community. She was a nurse’s aide at Golden Manor Jewish Home for the Aged for over fifty years. During her long tenure, she accompanied hundreds of residents to Shabbat dinners, synagogues, and Holy Days. She learned much about practical Judaism but always maintained her identity as a Christian. The administrators, Rabbis, staff, and residents accepted her for her genuine and generous spirit. They also respected her faith in the power of prayer. My wife spent most of her formative years studying after school with the residents. Consequently, when I married into the family, the good folks at Golden Manor came with the package. I recall when one of their Rabbis was trying to bring her frail mother from the former Yugoslavia to live at the nursing home. She asked Mom to pray for them to make this possible. “Rabbi, I always pray in Jesus’ name. Is that okay?” The Rabbi allowed it, as did many of the Jewish residents who petitioned her frequently for prayer. Everyone understood that her prayers were for healings and mercies, not for conversions. In due course, the Rabbi’s mother successfully emigrated and took her residence in the home. The dear woman did not speak a word of English, but we enjoyed several delightful conversations with her in Ladino. By all accounts, her final days at the home were multiplied and blessed.
I realize that public prayers require a different approach. My constituents and other Christians may expect me to invoke the name of Jesus for every situation. However, out of sensitivity for those of other faiths, I try first to find common ground and second to maintain my Christian identity. Keeping a balance requires wisdom and a keen sense of what is appropriate for each situation. I am still learning this skill.
The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view(s) of The United Methodist Church or any other employer or institution.