Let my people pray.

A modest proposal: Let's return the prayer of the faithful to the faithful.

CAN YOU IMAGINE JESUS AT THE LAST SUPPER, Before he began praying over the bread and the wine, giving the nod to one of his apostles (James the Less, perhaps), who then proceeds to read from a printed scroll: "For Caesar and Pilate and all imperial officials, that they may rule with justice and truth, let us pray to the Lord." To which all the apostles would reply, "Lord, hear our prayer."

Then James continues, "For Herod and Caiaphas and all the rabbis and Levites, that they may serve God's chosen people with compassion, let us pray to the Lord." And maybe ending with, "And for the success of the temple fundraising dinner and silent auction, let us pray to the Lord.... "

I suspect the prayers of those gathered at that table were more immediate and real. And yet every weekend I'm treated to a series of prayers that are allegedly mine, but usually have little to do with what's going on in my heart and soul.

So I'll say it flatly: Let's return the prayer of the faithful to the faithful.

I realize there's little chance of this happening. Liturgists have decided what ought to take place at this moment in the Mass, and it's not spontaneity. They don't seem to be interested in leaving room for involvement that springs forth from the hearts worshipers will soon be enjoined to "lift up" to the Lord. And that's a wasted opportunity.

The next time you celebrate liturgy from the pew--and for most of us, that's every week--think of how little real involvement you have. Perhaps the only two phrases that you voice on your own in that whole hour-long service are "The peace of Christ be with you," and "Amen" (twice if you receive Communion under both species). Our liturgy features a lot of words, some soaring and beautiful. But when it comes to the prayer of the faithful, those words are often not our words. They may be well written and sometimes even inclusive, but they're trying to carry more weight than they can handle.

Now I know that liturgy is not private prayer. That it is corporate worship. And that there are protocols, styles, and standards that are appropriate to liturgical prayer. But I also know there's nothing wrong with warming up the crowd a bit.

A number of years ago one of the priests at our parish, Father Ray Novacek, C.S.V., made time and space for a true offering of petitions from the people in the pew. After walking among the congregation during his homily, he would stay there for the Creed and the prayer of the faithful. After a short prayer he would invite those who chose to share the concerns they were carrying in their hearts. In a word, it was powerful.

This exercise had a transforming effect on those of us gathered to worship. We were in various states of preparedness and disconnection. Many of us were still carrying the worries we woke up with that morning. And here we were invited to bring those cares and concerns forward--as gifts--and share them with one another. From a collection of individuals, the group became more what we were there to become--one body in the one Lord.

Were the petitions people voiced sometimes silly? Sure. Did some rant or ramble? Occasionally. Did they say awkward and embarrassing things? Once in a while. Was it messy (the cardinal sin for liturgists)? Absolutely. But did we also give voice to the burdens we brought in with us to Mass that day? Surely. And did that change the nature of the group gathered? Certainly, and for the better.

One of the presuppositions of the liturgy is that we gather as a community. And yet community in many places seems harder and harder to come by. Maybe in days gone by people standing side by side at Mass knew what those next to them were going through. That the lady across the aisle was nursing her dying husband. That the man seated down the pew had just lost his job. That the kid in the third row was disconsolate because his dog had run away. Today that's often not the case.

We are an incarnational church, and too often our liturgies gloss over that. We are a messy people, and too often we put on our shiny Sunday best to cover that up. I offer this modest proposal: that parishes, for six months, try opening up the prayer of the faithful to the direct, unfiltered, unpolished prayers and petitions of the people in the pew. If your parish isn't already in the habit of doing this, it might take a while for people to regain their voices. So give it time.

And when it happens, watch the stream of people coming up to Communion. I'll bet you won't see them the same. Their hunger for the Lord of mercy and compassion will be more evident because more of who they are has finally been welcomed to the table of the Lord.