That great Talmudic scholar, Woody Allen, once said that “90% of success is just showing up.”

He probably didn’t realize it, but he could have been describing the message at the heart of this morning’s gospel.

Because in the parable of the persistent widow, we are given a valuable lesson about what my grandmother might have called “stick-to-it-iveness.” Diligence. Perseverance. The widow succeeds in large measure because, as Woody Allen noted, she shows up. And shows up. And shows up. She shows up so often, apparently, the judge is frightened of her and worried she’ll strike him.

I can’t help but think of the character that Ruth Buzzi used to play on “Laugh In.” Remember that? The woman who kept hitting the old man with her pocket book? The widow has just that kind of determination. And so should we, when it comes to prayer.

Oh, we shouldn’t be ready to hit God with a pocket book. But we should have a similar sense of mission, and purpose. We need to be not only people of prayer, but people of perseverance – people who do not give up. We need to keep up a conversation with God, in all seasons, through all circumstances.

We need to keep showing up. Only then can our prayers truly succeed.

Thursday, we celebrated the feast of St. Luke, and this year, every Sunday, we’ve been hearing readings from his gospel. He’s been called the Evangelist of Prayer, because he mentions it so often, much more than the other gospel writers. This parable is just one example. We’ll be hearing more about prayer, also, next week.

It’s clear that Luke wants his readers to be aware of prayer’s power – and its accessibility. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. It doesn’t have to be eloquent. But it has to be.

Pope John Paul was once asked how to pray and replied: “It’s simple. I would say: pray any way you like, so long as you do pray.”

Or to quote Nike: “Just do it.”

We are creatures of habit. A teacher once told me: “You become what you do.” If we make prayer a habit, it becomes a part of us. We can be transformed.

But regular prayer does take persistence. You have to be willing to give of yourself again and again.

You have to show up.

In the summer of 1995, the world watched in amazement as baseball history was being made. Cal Ripken was about to break Lou Gehrig’s streak for the most consecutive games played. Every game, people wondered if Ripken would be able to play, if he’d actually make it.

A colleague of mine told me at the time he thought that Ripken didn’t deserve all the attention. It was no big deal, he said. All he did was show up for work.

Well, okay. But he showed up for work, outdoors, when it was raining, and cold. He showed up for work when he was in pain. He showed up for work when he had indigestion, or a sore tooth, or a pulled muscle. He showed up when he was having a bad day, and he’d had a fight with his wife, or an argument with his manager. He showed up when he was in the mood, and when he wasn’t. He showed up when the trip was long and the food was bad and the team was tired and he wanted to be home, just playing a game of catch with his kids. He did it because he loved being in the game.

And he did that 2,632 times, playing for only one team, just a few miles from where he grew up.

Cal Ripken displayed a truly remarkable work ethic.

Can we say as much about our prayer ethic?

Are any of us able to pray with that kind of consistency?

Are any of us able to do it, even when we don’t feel like it?

Are we able to give ourselves to God, even if we feel He isn’t giving Himself to us? When it feels like our prayers aren’t being heard?

Do we show up anyway…because we love God? Because we continue to love Him, in spite of the curve balls that life throws at us? Do we do it, like Cal Ripken, because we love being in the game?

The lesson of the gospel today is that being committed like that to prayer brings us closer to God – and gets our prayers answered.

But baseball is a team sport. And that leads us to another important lesson from today’s scripture: we can’t do it alone.

In the first reading, from Exodus, when Moses grows weary of praying, he has help: Aaron and Hur are there to, literally, support him.

When praying to God, when struggling to live a life of constant faith and fidelity, we need one another. We need support. Churches aren’t solitary endeavors. We gather as community because we recognize that, and we celebrate that. And it’s why so often, during mass, we hear those words: “Let us pray.” Prayer in mass is a communal act.

If 90% of success is showing up, there’s a reason we have all shown up here together today. We want to pray with one another, for one another. To hope together, to sacrifice together, and to receive together the Body of Christ.

And, God willing, we will do it again next week. And the week after that. And the week after that. We will keep showing up. We will keep raising our hearts and our minds at the invitation to “let us pray.” It is an invitation to join the great work of talking with God. And we answer that invitation because we know that it matters – to God, and to us.

Because we love Him and need to tell Him. And because He loves us, and needs to tell us.

He does it with every sunrise – and with every Eucharist.

I hope we never forget that.

Let us strive to give our hearts and minds to God, not only today, not only on Sunday, but every day. Let’s see what persistence in prayer can do.

So: let us talk with God. Let us wonder with Him. Let us laugh with Him, weep with Him, and praise Him.

In short: let us pray.