Lent 2 (Year B): Litany for Memento Mori

A few months ago I purchased an ornamental skull and hung it on a wall. It’s gilt, and made to look like the skull of some kind of bull. I didn’t really know why I did this, except that there was something about the skull that was compelling to me; something edgy but true. In other words I didn’t do this strictly for decorative reasons. I hung it in the bathroom, which freaked the children out a little, but now everyone sees the skull whenever they do the business that living people do.

Weeks later I learned, quite by accident (from Sister Theresa Aletheia on twitter), about the ancient tradition of Memento Mori (1), Latin for “remember death.” It’s the practice of intentionally remembering that death is unpredictable and imminent, to remind us to live well, do what matters, not waste time on vanities. Many people practice Memento Mori by keeping a skull in view, so that they are reminded to live well whenever they see it. I had inadvertently stumbled into my own Memento Mori practice.

So this is what I thought of when I read this week’s Lectionary reading from Mark 8. Jesus informs his followers that he will have to endure suffering, rejection, and death; and then after that he’ll rise again. Some of the apostles, particularly Peter, just can’t deal with this idea. I can just hear him: "What’s this about death? Death has no part of this equation we are working on here! Death is far away, an abstract idea! We don’t have to think about that now! How humiliating that you would even think of letting death take you, Jesus!" And Jesus rebukes Peter, telling him that in his utter denial of death having any part in the narrative, he is “setting [his] mind not on divine things but on human things” (2).

In the season of Lent we are invited to remember our mortality, and our immortality. We are given permission to contemplate what is humanly (but not divinely) considered morbid. We begin by admonishing one another: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” And we end by celebrating the life that comes after the dust, after the death.



God, we know from the narratives and themes within scripture
That the road to life is fraught with death
That the road to safety is fraught with peril
That the road to light is fraught with darkness.

We know from the narratives and themes within nature
That to get to spring we pass through winter.
That to get fertile soil, there must be compost and decay.
That to get to bloom we pass through buried seed.

We know from the narratives and themes within our own lives
That mistakes and failures teach us
That wisdom comes from experience, and often from hardship and loss
That growing up means learning hard lessons.

Death follows us everywhere we go in this life.
Nothing living is immune.

As Christ went down to death for three days
So we must follow:
Down, past death
    Death to self (3)
    Death to assumption
    Death to expectation
    Death to control
We are brought low by this humility.

And in turn, out past death we find a mystery:
What we thought was lost is found (4).
Death has hatched something altogether new:
Glorious life!

So, we accept our mission:
To live well,
To face death,
And learn the lesson of resurrection.

Amen

  1. More info about Memento Mori

  2. Mark 8:33

  3. Mark 8:34

  4. Mark 8:35


    *If you or your congregation are regular users of the work here at franpratt.com, please consider becoming a patron.

Epiphany, Year B (Week 5): Litany for Healing

God, we look to you as Healer.
Heal us, oh God.

We look to the message of Christ for our hope:
The Kingdom, the Way of God is near.
You give power to the faint,
And strengthen the powerless. (1)
You heal the brokenhearted
And bind up their wounds. (2).

From our physical infirmities
Heal us, oh God.
From our spiritual blindness,
Heal us, oh God.
From our emotional woundedness,
Heal us, oh God.
From our weakness and corruption,
Heal us, oh God.
From our mental illnesses,
Heal us, oh God.
From our brokenness and trauma,
Heal us, oh God.
From our carelessness and apathy,
Heal us, oh God.
From our generational burdens,
Heal us, oh God.
From our hatred and violence,
Heal us, oh God.

Those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength,
They shall mount up with wings like eagles
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint. (3)

We wait for you,
God, our healer.
Amen.

 

  1. Isaiah 40:29

  2. Psalm 147:3

  3. Isaiah 40:31

Epiphany, Year B (Week 3): Litany for New Creation

This litany contains references to selections from the Lectionary texts for January 21, 2018 (Year B).

God, even now, in ways we can hardly comprehend
The old is passing away.
Your voice, the voice of Christ, speaks to us:
“The time is fulfilled
the kingdom of God has come near;
turn from evil, and believe in the good news." (1)

All around the world there is turmoil
There is suffering, hunger, and war.
Here in our midst there is upheaval:
In our government, society, and streets.
But we see the subtle ways in which you work:
New creation steadily appearing.

Help us, oh God, to pay attention
To the nearness of your Kingdom,
To the rhythms of your working,
To the newness of life around us,
To the opportunities in our midst,
To the mystery of Christ within us.

For the present form of this world is passing away. (2)
New Creation has already taken hold
And is working and growing behind the scenes,
Beyond the screen of what our eyes can see.

Trust in God at all times, O people;
Pour out your heart before God;
God is a refuge for us.
Power and steadfast love belong to God. (3)

Amen

  1. Mark 1:15

  2. 1Corinthians 7:31

  3. Psalm 62:8,12

Litany for Waking Up

I have heard this story so many times: this narrative of people waking up to injustice or abuse in institutions, then trying so hard to help the institution wake up, then discovering that there’s no forcing change and that trying so hard is burning their hearts down, then waking up to the reality that leaving is the only heartbreaking option. I don’t know if it’s actually getting more common, or if I’m just paying better attention to it, having lived it a time or two.

I have heard this story in marriages. In churches. In businesses. In nations and governments. Over and over again. It’s a dark, painful story that calls to mind Jesus’ words in Matthew 10:14 (and Luke 9:5) to “leave...and shake the dust off your feet when you leave…”*

I don’t think Jesus says that glibly. He knows that leaving is a painful decision; he also knows that trying to force anyone to listen or change is a futile effort, and graciously give his disciples permission to move onto different, more open and receptive spaces. And that’s another thing I see happening. I see new spaces being created. I see a new reformation happening. I see new ways emerging. I see hope and freedom sprouting up. I see a winnowing.

But waking up is still hard. There’s hope and life in it, but also discomfort, grief, and sometimes confusion. It takes great faith to throw our precious grain up in the air, and trust that what falls back down, after the wind has carried the chaff away, will be enough.**




God, you are the one who wakes us up
When we are ready.
You wake us up to injustice.
You wake us up to love.
You wake us up to injury.
You wake us up to hope.

Sometimes we wake up and realize
That our institutions need change;
That our theology needs change;
That our habits need change;
That our politics need change;
That our hearts need change.

Sometimes we must suffer the scathing heartache
Of leaving behind ideas or institutions
That don’t work anymore, now that we’re awake.
Sometimes our waking requires parting.
Sometimes we can’t support.
Sometimes we are no longer supported.

It can feel like homelessness,
Like up-ending,
Like disowning,
Like failure,
Like giving up.
We wish it weren’t so.

We can only allow ourselves to change at your prompting;
We can’t force others to understand.

Let those of us who are waking, painstakingly and in various ways,
Have no judgement toward those who aren’t yet ready to arise.
Let no arrogance exist among us,
But only patience and compassion.
Let those of us who can stay and enact change,
Be strengthened and encouraged.
Let those of us who must leave,
Leave wisely and lovingly.
 

Amen

* I appreciate Sarah Bessey's writing on the topic of leaving, and also on staying.
**Matthew 3:12

Litany for Dark Days

The prophet Amos says the  “Day of the Lord is darkness, not light, and gloom with no brightness in it.” This week's Lectionary reading includes that passage from Amos 5, as well as others referenced in this prayer.



God, we are weary, weary.
The days are dark.
All day long we contend with evildoers.
We wake to discover more death.

We know that when the days seem dark
We must persevere;
That discipleship is costly,
And the risks of faith are great.

We may be outcast.*
We may be silenced.
We may be slandered.
We may be killed unmercifully. *
But we know that, despite the shame and chaos of the hour,
You are still our help and deliverer (1).

Help us, as we go along, to keep our lamps filled and trimmed (2)
That we may wait with hope
In a circle of light -
Awake and ready for action (3).
We are poor and needy,
Yet still in your care (1).

These are days of darkness and change,
The Day of the Lord, unfolding; (4)
So. Let justice roll down like waters,
And righteousness like an everflowing stream (5).

Amen


1)Psalm 70:5
2)Matthew 25:4-7
3)Matthew 25:13
4)Amos 5:20
5)Amos 5:24

*as the pastor and prophet Jonathan Martin was last week cast out of Liberty University for speaking against the actions of its administration and calling for a prayer vigil
*as were the 26 people (plus 20 more injured) mowed down with an assault rifle as they gathered for worship this past Sunday. And the 58 (plus 489 wounded) the month prior in Las Vegas.

Litany for Post-Disaster Trauma

In the wake of Irma, Harvey, and the devastating wildfires in the west; and in commemoration of the disaster of 9/11/01, I offer this litany.

God, we are thankful
For those who have survived,
For those who have helped and responded,
For what spaces are left to rebuild in,
For the people who embody love,
For experiences that teach us what matters.

We acknowledge that those beset by disaster have endured great trauma:
The losses and mess,
The danger and fright,
The distress to body and soul.
These are deep wounds, real wounds
That take time to recover from.

You weep, oh God, with those who weep.
You mourn with those who mourn.

Heal your people, oh God.
Rescue them from their distress,
Enfold them in your kindness,
And surround them in your care.

Make of us a strong and resilient people:
A people prone to compassion,
A people prone to good works,
A people prone to patience,
A people prone to listening,
A people healed and whole.

Let the work of rebuilding --
Lives, homes, livelihoods, communities --
Be the work of new life and imagination;
The work of Heaven-on-Earth

Amen

 

Litany for Knowing God, Even in Suffering

Here is this week's Lectionary-based litany, containing elements from Psalm 23, John 10, and 1 Peter 2. I threw in the Hosea cause I felt like it worked.

 

God, you are the Shepherd and Guardian of our souls (1)
We want to become more aware of you (2)

We hold as our example the Christ, who suffered
But did not threaten;
The Christ, who endured abuse,
But did not return abuse; (3)
The Christ, who bore pain -
By his wounds we are healed!... (4)

Because Christ revealed the heart of God.
You desire mercy not sacrifice (5).
Because Christ has shamed the principalities and powers.
You desire the knowledge of God, not offerings (5).
Because Christ has torn the veil and made way to the Holy of Holies (6)
You desire rich relationship with us, your creations.

Come, let us press on to know the Lord
His appearing is as sure as the dawn (7).
We hear your voice -
You call to us and lead us out (8).
Wherever we go, you are with us,
Comforting, loving, restoring, guiding (9).

Be near to us, Lord, in whatever darkness or suffering we must encounter in this life,
Help us to see every pain redeemed in the light of Christ’s love.

Amen
 

 

(1)1 Pet 2:25
(2) 1Pet 2:19
(3) 1 Pet 2:23
(4) 1 Pet 2:24
(5) Hosea 6:6
(6) Matthew 27:51
(7) Hosea 6:3
(8) John 10:3
(9) Psalm 23:4


 

 

Litany for Simeons & Annas

The gospel lectionary passage for the day commemorating the Presentation of the Lord on Feb 2 is about Simeon and Anna the Prophet, From Luke 2. Jesus' parents presented him at the temple in Jerusalem, and Simeon and Anna, who had waited their whole lives to see the Messiah. This one may be more slam poem than litany, or equally. You can tell me.

God, in this time we are watching and waiting,
Fasting and praying,
Planning and scheming,
Hoping and dreaming,

For a new thing, a new day,
A breakthrough:
    Kingdom coming,
    Heaven opening,
    Son of God descending,
    The world awakening.

Looking around we see war and destruction
Strife and obstruction
Poverty and reduction
Tyranny and corruption.

And it’s taking all our strength and all our courage
To see beyond the present
To see past our sorrow
To see a future and a hope for tomorrow.

But we want to be
Faithful like Simeon
Devout and righteous;
And steadfast like Anna,
Staying engaged,
Prayerful and joyous.

Because we have a promise.
We have a vision.
Our eyes will see the glory,
Consolation and redemption.
And even if it takes
A lifetime or a day
In hopeful expectation
We work and we wait.

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Come, Lord Jesus.
May the Lord, when he comes, find us watching and waiting. (1)

Amen
 

  1. I lifted this line from a liturgy from the Church of England
     


 

Litany for the Earth

Here is the text of the first half of Psalm 24 (NLT).

The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.
The world and all its people belong to him.
For he laid the earth’s foundation on the seas
and built it on the ocean depths.

Who may climb the mountain of the Lord?
Who may stand in his holy place?
Only those whose hands and hearts are pure,
who do not worship idols
and never tell lies.

They will receive the Lord’s blessing
and have a right relationship with God their savior.
Such people may seek you
and worship in your presence, O God of Jacob.
                 - Psalm 24:1-6


God, we lament the destruction that has been done
That we have permitted to be done
By our silence and inaction
And by our direct action
To the Earth - Your creation. *
Forgive us, Oh God.

Even now we realize that our home
Is suffering
Its inhabitants are suffering
From lack of clean water and air
     Lack of life-giving nourishment
     Lack of safe habitat.

Help us to become aware
     Of the needs of humanity,
     Of the needs of generations to come,
     Of the needs of soil and creatures.
We acknowledge that we have a chance:
     To choose peace over profit
     To choose activity over complacency
     To choose a Greater Good over today’s convenience.

Arouse in us a new compassion,
A new willingness to change,
A new excitement to foster community,
A new faith in the abundance of your Kingdom.
A new zeal for establishing the Peace and Justice of God,
A new desire to set the Earth to rights
A new understanding of the connectedness of all things,
A new appreciation of the gift of Earth.

Amen

*Recommended reading for people of faith on the topic of Creation Care is Tri Robinson's _Saving God's Green Earth_.

A Dead Man in LadyBird Lake + Litany for the Homeless

We had a sad and stark thing happen in our family this week. My husband Jordan Gadapee is sharing the tale. A litany from me follows his story.

On December 28, 2016, a man was found dead floating in Austin’s Lady Bird Lake. The man likely drowned, but authorities are not yet sure of the cause of death. He was wearing baggy pants, several shirts, and four neckties. He had a butter knife in his pocket. His name, age, and reasons for being in the lake were all unknown. If you live in the Austin area, you may have come across the story. It’s possible you saw the headline in a passing tweet. Maybe you heard a brief news report on the incident. Or, perhaps, there was an odd odor on your afternoon run. I didn’t run that day.

I work in downtown Austin at 301 Congress St. The lake is a few blocks away from my office, and a lunchtime jog makes for a great pardon on busy days. The man was found floating one mile from my office. That’s 5,280 feet. When the weather is nice, the park around the lake is full of people. You’ll find runners, walkers, and casual explorers. My favorite person is the homeless man who sleeps on the bench. If he’s awake, he’ll give you a high-five as you run past. It was 82° Fahrenheit that day, and I imagine his hand stinging from too many high-fives. I didn’t get a high-five that day.

Lady Bird is a local favorite for recreational watercraft, and the day was perfect for breaking in the kayaks delivered by Santa. Beautiful weather is the upside to Christmas in Texas. A couple of kayakers were enjoying the weather when they spotted the body floating. It’s unusual for people to swim in the lake — thanks to the chlordane, overgrowth, and old debris. The man was unresponsive, so they called 911. I didn’t see the police tape; I was in my office.

I was also in my office on January 03, 2017. It was a week later and cooler outside. The temperature was 74° Fahrenheit. I had just talked to my mother, and she briefed me on the incoming call. I was still holding my phone when it started vibrating. I answered the call at 4:38 pm. Jennifer spoke with a practice cadence of a surgeon, “Hi Jordan. I am Jennifer from the Travis County Coroner’s office.” Pause. “On December 28th your biological father was found dead in Lady Bird Lake.” Shock. Jennifer was excellent at her job. She answered some of my questions: “Yes dead on the scene.” “Drowned, we think. There are other tests still results we need.” “We identified him by his fingerprints.” Silence. “You have an aunt and her name is Jan. She is making the arrangements.” The volley of questions lasted 6 minutes. I wanted to go for a run.

I didn’t know my biological father. I would learn from Jennifer that he was indigent — that’s fancy for homeless. Being homeless means he was a part of society but mostly unseen, unheard, and untouched. He was invisible. Just like in my life; there and not. Present in my enzymes and proteins but not for soccer practice or bed time. No one was looking for him. It took the county seven days to find a relative one mile away. I didn’t even know we lived in the same city. Repeat: I had no idea we both lived in Austin, Texas! There had been divorce, estrangement, distance, and decades. His kinship rights waived long ago. We spoke on the phone once. It was 14 years ago and the conversation was brief. He turned invisible again after that. I never got to run with my father, though we walked on the same streets.

We may have met. I keep spare change and dollar bills in my car to give away to homeless people. I sometimes give away my lunch. I’ve served at food banks and helped box food in South Austin. When my children ask why I give money away, I explain, “This is what kind humans do. We have and they do not, so we share.” I should ask the homeless their names; kind people do that. If I had asked, this story could be different. I am resolved to close the loop and to return kindness for his unkindness. To be present even though he was not. I will be there for whatever service or memorial or tombstone he has. I will try to learn the names of the invisible (especially, high-five-black-man).

Nine days later, the weather has turned. Today the high is 38° Fahrenheit. I do not feel like running. However, I have had many other feels over the last week. Most of all sadness, loneliness, and curiosity. I have been desperate for the nearness of my family. A run with my wife Fran would heal much. I am sad for many reasons. Among them are the circumstances of his dying homeless. Being homeless and dying must be like watching a pot boil. Slowly violent. To die without a place, lonely, and invisible while there is so much and so many around is sad. I’m embarrassed that it happens in our society. I am willing to help.

There are many organizations in the Austin area that provide aid, services, and education to the homeless. Over the next year, I will be giving to money to Caritas of Austin, boxing food at the Central Texas Food Bank, and supporting the Food Pantry at the Austin Vineyard Church. If you’d like to do the same, the links are below. It would make me happy. I will try and run around Lady Bird Lake more often. Most of all, I will learn the names of the homeless I encounter. His name was Johnny.

Caritas of Austin, Tell them Jordan sent you in the comments of your donation.

Austin Vineyard Church, Your donation can go directly to the food ministry. They feed almost 100 families a month.  

Central Texas Food Bank, it’s a great place to volunteer. The people are awesome. It’s great for teams.

If you give to your local charity, linking this article will help them track to source and reasons for your donation.

As a final note I think it’s important to acknowledge that my mother is an incredible woman. The man my mother re-married years later is a loving and caring father. He is my dad. He was always there at soccer practice.

 

LITANY FOR THE HOMELESS

God, we know that many invisible people exist all around us:
People we consider beneath us,
People we judge for what we consider their poor choices or low standards,
People we distance ourselves from because they are unclean,
People who have been ill or made mistakes and fallen through the cracks of society,
The beggars at the gate. (1)

We don't know them,
But you do.
We don't know their names,
But you know each hair on their heads.
We often fail to care for them,
But they are precious in your sight.

Help us to see what your eyes see:
Human beings
Broken and beautiful
Sacred and scarred.

For those without shelter
We pray to God.
For those without jobs
We pray to God.
For those without food, water, and facilities
We pray to God.
For those who have been imprisoned and never recovered
We pray to God.
For those whose minds are befuddled by illness
We pray to God.
For those destroyed by war
We pray to God.
For those overwhelmed by addiction
We pray to God.
For those who have simply lost hope
We pray to God.

In the midst of death and dying,
Of filth and discomfort;
Of hunger, thirst, and exposure,
Come Lord Jesus!

Make us your hands and feet:
Generous sharers and helpers,
Bearers of the good news of your kingdom
Even unto the Invisibles.

Amen

(1) Luke 16
 

Litany for Being of Good Cheer

(See John chapter 16)

God, some of us are bombarded with messages
That tell us we should never feel sad -
We should ignore pain or cover it up.
Some of us are bombarded with messages
That tell us we should only feel sad -
We should give up hope altogether.

We are grateful for your balanced view,
and for your example
Of acknowledging people’s pain and darkness
And companionably entering into it with them;
Of letting death think it won for a hot minute
Then BOOM: resurrection!

Death overcome.
Grief turned to joy.
Weeping turned to laughter.
Pain and travail: a child is born.

Help us to live as faithful Grievers
Of whatever anguish we encounter or experience,
Who are willing to walk among despair.
And help us to live as faithful Hopers:
Courageous People of Good Cheer
Who are certain of our impending joy.

Amen

Being of good cheer is a thing that Jesus says we should do, or be, as it were. At least, the King James translates it that way. Other more contemporary translations give the line as “take courage” or “take heart.” I’m naturally a suspicious, somewhat cynical, glass-half-empty sort of individual; being of good cheer is not really my thing. But this line comes at the tail end of a chapter, John 16, in which Jesus is being really honest with his followers about what it’s going to be like for them to live in the tension of the time between when he leaves and when he comes again. The tension of waiting. The tension, it occurs to me, of Advent.

See, I’m about done with Christmas Cheer by now. Kids are dying in Syria and Yemen, and Standing Rock still isn’t over, and bombings and cancer and melting polar ice caps, and people around the world are grieving a million different losses and hurts. And if you ask me to ignore that and just sing songs and spread cheer I’m probably going to tune you out. I don’t see Jesus ignoring darkness or pain, and I pray we can have the courage to follow his example, roll up our sleeves and be about healing and peacemaking.

The part of the chapter that’s most hopeful to my cynical self is this: Jesus doesn’t sugar coat anything. He doesn’t say, “oh things are going to come up roses for the next few dozen centuries while I’m doing my thing in heaven.” He doesn’t omit the fact that we will experience grief and loss; “you will grieve,” he says baldly, “but your grief will turn to joy” (John 16:20).*

Instead he gives us this invitation to enter into the darkness of grief and pain - an act in itself of hope and faith - so that we may learn to experience joy. It is both permission and a paradox: this becomes that, but only if we stop faking the one and start doing the other. It’s a place we get to lend our weight to help “bend the arc of justice” as MLK famously said, by becoming willing to see and feel the pain around us, and to work transform it in light of Christ’s example.

In this world you’ll have trouble, says Jesus; but be of good cheer because I have overcome the world and you are free to live as though I have even though the evidence you see around you contradicts me. Part of the tension of Advent is this: how to both grieve authentically and be of good cheer. Always the tension, always the paradox of faith, the waiting that stretches our boundaries. I like Christmas Cheer better this way, with salt alongside light, with real-life darkness to illuminate.

 

*This passage is just another one of the myriad reasons I think grieving is important work, not to be shirked.

Litany for Aleppo

God, we send the full force of our hearts
The whole weight of our intentions
In our petition
For peace in Aleppo.

Massive loss of life,
Immense destruction,
Atrocities committed by nation-states
Against civilians, including children.

Executions of innocents.
Bombings of aid caravans, hospitals, shelters.
Political impasse.
All for the sake of power, wealth, and empire.

May the perpetrators of these crimes be brought to justice -
Let them choke upon their power
And be brought low by their shame.
May they lament ever having thought of bombarding children.

Make some miracles happen in Aleppo, oh God.
Make peace real.
Hold those in power accountable.
Give authority to those who bring mercy.

Open the gates, that the king of glory may ride in
Mighty to save:
You, whose law is love
And whose gospel is peace.*

May the good news of peace
Finally reach those injured, traumatized, impoverished;
Those people whom you love and care for.
May peace walk in, arms laden with good things:
     Respite
     Healing
     Restoration
     Sustenance
     Safety.

Amen

Pray, share, and give to aid organizations on the ground in Syria.
mercyusa.org
preemptivelove.com

 

*lyric from “O Holy Night”

Litany for An Anxious Moment

God, we invite you into this moment
In which our feelings are overwhelming us.
Our breath is shallow,
Our muscles tensed.

We can’t foresee what will happen,
But we know that there are many possibilities,
Both good and bad.
If we’re honest, we tend to dwell on the bad.

Help us to exist in this moment without judgement
Of ourselves
Or of the unknown future.
Help us to observe quietly
And allow our feelings to pass over us
Without taking hold.

With deep inhales
And full exhales
We give the feelings a push.

We take this opportunity to discipline ourselves to remember:
     Your great goodness,
     Your great love,
     Your great strength,
     The peace we find in your presence;
To remember that nothing can separate us from You.

Our feelings are worth considering, but not definitive.
Our perspective is but a small fragment of the whole.
Our reality is but a shadow of Your kingdom.
Our experience is meant to grow us.
Our beings resonate with Your divinity.
Our lives are encompassed in Your life.

Re-orient us now
     Away from imagined distance
     Toward present union with Christ.
Re-orient us now
     Away from fear
     Toward Love.

We are yours, feelings and all.
Amen

 

Litany for Lament

God, our hearts are weary,
Broken, and sad.
Grief follows us;
Pain is our companion on the road.

We are divided: parents against children,
Brother against brother
Sister against sister,
Half-nation against half-nation.

The sins of our past have revisited us.
They were just beneath the surface,
Covered in a coat of whitewash.
We are newly aware of our complicity.

We mourn our blindness.
We regret our apathy.
We weep at the state of our world.
We wish we had done things differently.
We grieve the wrongs done by us and by others
And reap a harvest of shame.

We open our hearts before you;
We are vulnerable and at your mercy.
Let your will be done to us.
Refine us in your fire.

We purpose ourselves now to walk steadfastly and humbly
Through the chafing grief
And the ache of suffering,
Out to where the mercy falls. (1)


Notes:
Lament has a long tradition among faith cultures, Christianity included. Lament is simply being present to suffering and present to the expression of grief. Happy-go-lucky Evangelicalism has largely forgotten it, and has instead taught its followers to shame those who engage in it. I think we would do well to remember our roots, to go to the book of Lamentations, the book of Job, the Psalms, even to the lamentations of Christ himself (2).

Lament is an important part of the transformation of pain. Richard Rohr says, “If you do not transform your pain, you will surely transmit it to those around you and even to the next generation” (3). I think we have an opportunity here: to lower our defenses and allow ourselves to bear witness to our pain and that of others, and to stop disbelieving others when they tell us they are hurting because we are either a) disconnected from suffering (i.e. “stuffing it”) or b) consumed by it because we’ve never authentically grieved.

In terms of current events: Lament is not a partisan effort. On both sides of the political aisle we have a lot to lament. This isn’t new, but it does seem clearer now in the wake of the most divisive election of my lifetime. Maybe if we hadn’t forgotten how to lament, to really sit with grief and pain for a hot minute, just long enough to let it pierce our armor, instead of only ever reacting to them; we would not be finding ourselves in the situation we are in.

What I’m saying is this: authentic lament might be a checkpoint on the road to reconciliation. It might be one of the keys to transforming our collective pain into something redemptive and beautiful.

  1. “Where the Mercy Falls” is the title of a song by David Ruis and Bob Hartry.

  2. See Matthew 26

  3. Rohr, Richard. _The Naked Now_



 

Litany for Endurance

The Lectionary text from the Gospels for November 13, 2016 is Luke 21:5-19. The Lectionary is for me a rich source of inspiration on this Election Day Eve.


God, Help us to remain calm in troubled waters,
When things to fear are real or imagined.

When we are tested (1),
Help us to endure.
When we are criticized,
Help us to endure.
When we are misunderstood,
Help us to endure.
When we miss the mark,
Help us to endure.
When things are loud around us,
Help us to endure.
When peace seems impossible,
Help us to endure.
When common ground feels like compromise,
Help us to endure.
When we are thwarted,
Help us to endure.
When discouragement seems like the only reasonable response.
Help us to endure.
When we are tempted to prepare our defense (1),
Help us to endure.
When those we love feel like enemies,
Help us to endure.
When our enemies are hard to love,
Help us to endure.

We know that we gain our souls
By quiet, uncomplaining endurance.
We know that endurance
Expands our souls.

In all things,
May we have the mind of Christ.

Amen


(1) James 1:2-3  “testing… produces perseverance.”

(2) Luke 21:14 “Make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance.”


 

Litany for Standing Rock

God, we lift up to you our sisters and brothers at Standing Rock.
Show your goodness to them.
We give thanks to you for them,
For their strong witness against injustice.
We give thanks to you for them,
For their willingness to endure suffering peacefully.

Bless them, Oh God,
And let peace prevail.
Bless them, Oh God,
And let justice be done.
Bless them, Oh God,
And uphold their cause.

We recognize that this nation has succeeded
On the backs of oppressed peoples.
We recognize that again and again,
We have idolized profit.
We recognize that our collective greed
Oppresses those in the margins.
We recognize that our affluence
Comes at the expense of the poor, and of creation.

Forgive us, Oh God,
And have mercy upon us.

Open the hearts of our nation
To change
To mercy
To sustainability
To justice for all
To a greater good.

Heal those who have been wounded in this struggle,
Both physically and emotionally;
And bring peace and to a land that has known strife,
Whose ground is stained with blood and sorrow.

Amen

Litany for All Saints Day

All Saints Day, in which the global church honors those saints who have passed on, both known and unknown, both famous and obscure; is celebrated by Methodist, Lutheran, Anglican, and Roman Catholic traditions on November 1. Here is a litany for that day.

God, we remember those Saints who have gone before us;
We lament their passing,
And honor their legacy.
We give thanks for all we have learned from them.

Those who followed the Way of Christ faithfully,
We follow their example.
Those who made mistakes along the way,
We learn from their experience.
Those who made progress for peace,
We continue their work.
Those who lived simply and quietly,
We are enlightened by them.
Those who gained honor and distinction without pride,
We are humbled by them.
Those who were martyred for their faith,
We commend them to your care.

They have finished their work on earth,
And it lives on,
Reverberating into our lives now
As the work of Christ lives on.

May the peace of Christ continue to inspire us
To good works, humility, simplicity and peacemaking,
As those foremothers and forefathers were inspired by him
To live in grace and love.
 

Amen

Litany for Not Losing Hope

The Lectionary text for October 16 is Luke 18:1-8.

I have been thinking a lot about how easy it is for me to become overwhelmed with the suffering of the world in the Smartphone age. We have twitter and facebook and all manner of news at our fingertips or in our pockets literally all day long. I can know about nearly every terrible thing that happens on the earth at any given moment and become crippled with sorrow, a crumpled mess. And I have. Which is ok sometimes to do, even recommended. But I think I have work to do to figure out how to be engaged and aware and prayerfully participating but not consumed and overwhelmed.

In fact, I’d started some notes for a post along these lines, about not losing hope, staying engaged, keeping on praying. And then I read this week’s passage from the gospel of Luke.* How bout that? A parable about our “need to pray always and not to lose heart.” Jesus, you rascal, with your uncanny sense of irony.

So how do we, folks who care, folks who pray, folks who want justice for the oppressed both at home and abroad, how do we not lose hope? How do we find the strength and perseverance to keep on praying, even though new tragedies happen every day and the work is never done? Even though kids are dying of chlorine gas attacks in Aleppo; Hurricane Matthew has devastated Haiti; race relations in the US (and elsewhere) result in death and devastation nearly daily; 1 out of ever 113 people on earth is currently a refugee; women all over the world are marginalized, abused, and underpaid; the U.S. political scenario is currently discouraging (at best!), and on and on.

Well, I’m convinced of a few things:

Contemplative Christian faith has valuable things to offer: ancient practices of the church which inspire peace within and without, and which ground and unify us and give us words and space for lament and grief and heart-change and focus. We would do well to learn them.

Real faith expresses real emotions, even the ones that we might consider negative. We don’t have to do the happy-happy-joy-joy constant victory dance. We can be present to suffering. We can express lament. We can weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn. We can feel our feelings and allow others to feel theirs. This is part of our work of compassion in the world, and part of our victory. We can take our example in this from Christ himself.

Sabbath makes sense, and not just for resting from work. We can embrace the divine offer of Sabbath by turning off our personal news outlets one day a week. The world will survive while we take a moment to re-group. I don’t advocate sticking our heads in the sand, except for one day of the week, which you choose in the freedom and goodness of God, to receive the mercy of God in your own heart.

I don't think these are a panacea for hopelessness, but in my life I’m seeing them ground me in hope, and I know I can get better at leaning into them.

If you need help with hope, pray with me.

 

God, our faithful Friend: we know that you are not like the unjust judge in the parable.
You are just and merciful and compassionate,
We often find it difficult to hold suffering in our minds alongside hope.
Our hearts are often fragile and our minds forgetful.

Help us to be ok with expressing a full range of emotions:
Lament and joy
Anger and affection
Gratitude and disgust
Excitement and sadness
Doubt and empathy.

Help us to be disciplined, grounded in practices that bring us life
Prayer
Meditation
Fasting
Sabbath-rest
Worship

May the fruit of our practice be a river of hope
That flows beneath all we do
Into which we may refresh ourselves
Whenever we grow weary.

And help us to be as persistent as the widow
Not losing hope
Praying without ceasing
Seeking and working for justice.

Amen

 

*I try not to read ahead from week to week before preparing the Litany, just as a way of keeping an open mind

Litany for Haiti

Haiti has been devastated once more, this time by a hurricane. Entire towns have been ruined, and over 300 people have lost their lives. Right now people in Haiti are struggling to survive in the wreckage of a terrible storm. We can participate prayerfully in their healing. I have also written this litany, which can be used in times of natural disaster.

God, author of Creation
Giver of Life:
We call upon your mercy and compassion now.
We pray for the people of Haiti.

We pray for the hearts of the world
To be moved with compassion
We pray for the feet and hands of the world, ourselves included,
To be moved to help.

Where there has been devastation,
Bring renewal.
Where there is suffering,
Bring comfort
Where there is need
Bring provision.

The world has great need of the mercy of God
As demonstrated by Christ,
As demonstrated by the global Church
As demonstrated by individuals.
May your spirit alight on that place as never before,
Bringing life where death has reigned.

We pray for Haiti
For your kingdom come
Your will be done,
In Haiti as it is in heaven.

Amen

 

Litany for Gender Equality (part 1: Lament and Hope)

This litany has been a long time coming. This is part one of a series on gender equality. Here is the prayer for the women's voices: Lament, and Hope for Moving Forward.

God, hear our lament now:
We have been meek.
We have done our duty.
We have cared for children and husbands and aging parents and sick folks.
We have cooked and cleaned and tended livestock and gardens.
We are ready for more.

We have been first to your birth, and first to your tomb.
We have been paid less for more work.*
We have been beaten and imprisoned for asserting our rights.
We have been abused, then shunned for divorcing our abusers.
We have been raped, then blamed for our own trauma.
We have been blamed for the sins of men, indeed the sins of the world.
We have let our dreams die because we were told it was your will.
We have been told No so many times that we have stopped asking for permission.

We have been sold; but you are telling us our worth
We have been soiled; but you are washing us anew.
We have been silenced; but you are giving us a voice.
We have been hidden; but you see us.

(ALL:) You have always seen us.

We see you:
Making room for us at the table,
Opening our mouths to speak,
Strengthening our hearts,
Educating our minds,
Honoring our martyrs.

(ALL:) You are redeeming us.

Even now equality is making glorious progress in the world,
     expanding along with the Kingdom of God.
Even now strong women are rising up to make change,
     to lead, to correct, to work for peace.
Even now men and women are working together,
     each acknowledging their need for the others’ perspective.
Even now more places are being set at the table,
     for the inclusion of women alongside men,
     slave and free,
     young and old,
     every nation and language,
     every background and gift-mix.
(ALL:) Hallelujah! Thanks be to God!

We partner with you, Living God,
To remake hierarchy into equality.
To replace violence with peace.
To remake retribution into kindness.
To abolish comparison and celebrate uniqueness.
To transform weakness into strength.
To transform fear into confidence.
To replace apathy with assertiveness.
To replace exploitation with justice.
To replace oppression with mercy.

Make of us strong leaders and wise advocates;
Hands that work for justice, and voices that speak truth,
Students that dig deeply, and priests that call upon your presence.

Amen

*Right now, women in the U.S. are paid, on average, 80 cents on the dollar compared to men.