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Jan 18, 2024

Edward Sill

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A common criticism levied against Christians is our hypocrisy. Fair enough! We do not always live what we say we believe. While I contend that hypocrisy is endemic to the human condition, let’s stay with religious hypocrisy. Sometimes, it takes those on the church’s periphery to call out our blind spots.

Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887) tried to make a go of it as a pastor. He enrolled at Harvard Divinity School but soon came disenchanted, coming to the realization that he was not cut out to be a pastor. In his diary, he wrote, “I can never preach. I shall teach, I suppose.” He headed west and became a principal at a high school in California and, later, a professor at the University of California. He wrote poems on the side, often anonymously or using the pen name Andrew Hedbrook. One of his poems, “The Fool’s Prayer,” appeared in the Atlantic magazine in 1879. A king wants to entertain his royal guests at a banquet, so he requests the court jester named Fool to lead in prayer. The jester obliges and prays a prayer that shocks everyone. He pleads for God’s mercy, “O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool,” a phrase repeated four times in the prayer. At the end of the prayer, the king and his royal guests are stunned by the jester’s perceptiveness. Even the king whispers alone in his garden, “Be merciful to me, a fool.” The irony is unmistakable.  The fool sees clearly; the royal audience does not.

People spout religious sentiments they do not practice. Jesus singles out religious leaders of his day because “they do not practice what they preach” (Mt. 23.3).

Edward’s poem with its prayerlike quality leads us to contemplate living with more integrity:

The royal feast was done: the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: “Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!”

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent the knee
Upon the Monarch’s silken stool;
His pleading voice arose, “O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!”

No pity, Lord, could change the heart,
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but Lord
Be merciful to me, a fool!

‘Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
‘Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heartstrings of a friend.

The ill-timed truth we might have kept—
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung!
The word we had not sense to say—
Who knows how grandly it had rung!

Our faults no tenderness should ask.
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders—oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but “Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!”

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
“Be merciful to me, a fool.”

Edward Rowland Sill, “The Fool’s Prayer,” Poetry Archive

Rev. Dr. Peter James served 42 years as the senior of Vienna Presbyterian Church in Vienna, VA — 21 years in the 20th century and 21 years in the 21st century. He retired in 2021 and now serves as Pastor-in-Residence at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary.

Even as a pastor, prayer came slowly to Pete. Read Pete’s story.