Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

This passage from Matthew challenges me each year when Lent rolls around. On the one hand, I am drawn to the idea of "practicing my piety" in private. I am by nature a private person. I was born an introvert. I crave quiet and alone time. As a child, I was always described as shy, and I invariably had to be tracked down by some member of my large and boisterous family in one of the nooks or crannies (or closets) in which I had hidden myself, often with a book. Praying one on one with God comes naturally to me. I love the idea of getting away for private time with the Lord; I don't need anyone else to know about this time, or about my prayers. I am thoroughly contented with the private and secret prayer time Matthew's Gospel describes.

On the other hand, my challenge (and one of God's little jokes in my life) with this scripture passage comes with my call to the ordained ministry. My life has been the day-to-day responsibility and privilege of public prayer. I love community worship, and I lead the gathered congregation in praise and prayer. I visit people, individually and in groups; I lead all sorts of groups, from meetings to Bible studies to potluck suppers, and all of these occasions call for public prayer. Even when my now-even-larger family meets around the table for holiday meals, I hear the inevitable, "As long as we have a professional, she should say grace." As a pastor, though a natural introvert, I live as an extrovert, and the people in my congregation would describe me as outgoing and talkative. And I have become a natural at leading people in prayer, planned or spontaneously, as the loud, enthusiastic, designated public pray-er I have become.

So while the private, shy girl lives within me, now I am indeed also a public prayer - at God's behest. I am regularly confronted with this admonition in Matthew to return to the closet, to go back into hiding - that piety does not belong in a crowd. Yet my call to live out my faith life with others, and the gift those interactions with others has been for my faith life (especially the praying together) tells me that piety is not only nurtured but thrives in a crowd. So what to do with Matthew? Pay attention to his warning, which is about intent. The Gospel is concerned with the spirit of prayer, not the location of our praying. "Don't pray in order to be seen by others," we are told. It is okay to be seen praying by others. It is more than okay to pray to the God who loves us so much that he became one of us to pray with others. As long as the point is the praying, and not the being seen praying. As long as the point is the praying, and not getting points for praying. As long as the point is the praying, and not how eloquent we sound praying. One on one with God and in crowds, in hospital rooms, around the kitchen table, in cathedrals, in closets, in the woods, in country chapels and hometown churches, whenever, wherever, whoever we are, as long as the point is the praying, let us pray. Let us pray. For by the grace of Christ Jesus, God is listening.