“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” ~ Philippians 4:6
It’s the week of Thanksgiving, and so it would be easy to write about being thankful – which I will. Eventually. However, there is a fascinating word right before “thanksgiving” in Philippians 4:6 that changes the whole meaning of the rest of the sentence.
We don’t use the word “supplication” much, and therefore it becomes just a word. To the Greeks, however, it wasn’t simply a fancy word; it was a concept with a position, a cause, and an outcome.
Supplication in the Mind of the Ancients
To the ancients, supplication was a specific, intentional stance. It was a bid for mercy when death was imminent.
Supplication was most often used on the battlefield. It was when a weaker warrior knew a greater warrior would kill him. The only way for the weaker warrior to live was to appeal to the greater warrior’s mercy. The supplicant would get on his knees, clasp the greater warrior’s knees, reach up to his chin, and beg the greater warrior to ransom his life.
Think about this stance for a moment. If you are on your knees before another, you are humbling yourself before them. When you clasp that person’s knees, they cannot run from you. If you reach up to their chin, you are creating a direct line to your face, and they must look at you. They have to see your pain, your despair. They should be moved to pity, and the moral thing would be for them to spare you rather than kill you.
Now, this was the ideal. In the six instances of supplication in the Iliad, the Greeks, who are the ones being appealed to, kill their weaker, Trojan counterparts.[1] The only one who comes close to showing mercy is Menelaos. However, just as he is about to agree to the supplicant’s plea, Agamemnon swoops in and reminds Menelaos how the Trojans stole Helen. Menelaos then pushes the unfortunate supplicant away, and Agamemnon kills him.[2]
Supplication was also used in cases of dire distress, such as when Odysseos asks Queen Arete of the Phaecians to help him get home after he is shipwrecked. Once again, he kneels down, “clasp[s] Arete’s knees in his arms,” and implores her to have mercy and help him.[3] This is answered positively, and Odysseos is allowed to stay. Although this at first seems very different from war, it still is a life and death situation, as Odysseos has been told the Phaecians do not like strangers. Queen Arete holds the power of life and death over him, just as surely as Achilles held it over Lykaon.
How This Applies to Us
In both war and in great need, the suppliant has a distinct position. He (or she) implores for mercy from someone greater, someone who holds the power of life and death over them. There is no glory in killing a suppliant, who willingly humbles himself. There is no glory in refusing their plea.
This is the image we should have as we supplicate to God. We are humbling ourselves, admitting He could kill us, and imploring him to show mercy and ransom us.
And He did. He ransomed our life by substituting the life of His Son instead.
That is where our “thanksgiving” comes from in Philippians 4:6. It’s not that we rejoice in our difficult situations; rather, we rejoice despite them, for we know God, the Greater Warrior, has shown us mercy. He has heard our supplications, and answered them with an emphatic “Yes!”
That doesn’t mean supplications for a trial to end will magically work. Sometimes God allows the trials to continue for His own good purposes. However, we don’t need to be anxious, but can supplicate with thanksgiving – we know He sees us, we know He has compassion on us. What is more, we know he has already redeemed us, ransomed us, and shown us abundant mercy.
As we head into Thanksgiving, remember this position of supplication. Get on your knees, reach up to God, and know He sees you. Know He hears you. You don’t need to be anxious. His mercy has already arrived, and for that you can be thankful.
Sources
[1] Homer, Iliad (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), 6.37-63, 10.376-464, 11.122-147, 20.463-472, 21.34-127, and 22.337-343.
[2] Ibid. 6.37-64.
[3] Homer, Odyssey (New York: Harper Perennial, 1967), 7.1472-153.
