Litany for Mary, Martha, & The Mess

This week’s lectionary text is from Luke chapter 10:38-42 (Year C, Proper 11), the story of Mary and Martha. Preachers around the world will be preaching from that text on Sunday.

10:38 Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."

I like the story of Mary and Martha. For one thing, I like it when there is a significant story about women, particularly ones with moxie who dare to sneak in an education at the feet of a renowned teacher in a time when not many families would waste an education on a woman.

I also like the story because I feel a great deal of compassion for both Mary and Martha. Martha is mostly cast as a nagging shrew, which I think is a shame. I imagine Martha as the older sister who has spent her life feeling like she has to carry her sister’s weight as well as her own. I imagine that she is bone tired and resentful that all the work of entertaining guests has fallen to her, and the only help she might have had, her sister, has abandoned her yet again, left her to clean up all the messes. I have heard this exact sentiment from my older daughter in reference to my younger daughter: Mommy, she’s not helping pick up toys! We are both supposed to help! And I myself have felt this way; left alone to deal with a slew of messes, the weighty responsibility of keeping everyone happy and fed.

I imagine Mary as a would-be intellectual. I imagine that she’s spent her life yearning to learn, but was never deemed worthy because she was a lowly girl, purposed to serve and birth. I imagine that she sees in Jesus a new regard, a glimmer of life possibility, and she just can’t let it pass her by, her one shot at understanding, her one shot at something bigger than housework. You’ll never be a rabbi, Mary. You’ll never go to seminary. You’ll never teach or preach. But you can sit at Jesus’ feet and listen right now.

I imagine the mess in the kitchen as the other character in the story. It's behind the scenes, the result of the privilege that a bunch of folks got, which was to eat a nice hearty meal for free that someone else prepared. I imagine that they didn’t care what happened in the kitchen so long as their bellies were full. The kitchen was invisible to them. The dirty dishes were not their problem to solve. I imagine that Martha’s love language is Acts of Service and she is getting no love despite the fact that God Himself is preaching the gospel in the next room. She is so overwhelmed by the enormity of her tasks that she can’t hear Jesus speaking, and doesn’t feel free to.

And here we are two millenia later, hearing the story of the woman who had a hard time swallowing the fate of the dirty dishes, and the fact that she got left out of the conversation because she was too busy dealing with her nemesis: the messy kitchen.

I also feel a little peeved at Jesus in the story, and if I were there I don’t think I could resist shoving my elbow into his side and saying, Look at that pile of dishes, they all enjoyed that meal, why aren’t these bozos helping, tell them many hands make short work!! Better yet, if he’s so humble why doesn’t he go help wash up himself?

I understand that the answer is that the dishes aren’t nearly as important as the gospel of the kingdom of God and the presence of Jesus. I get that. I’m just saying I see how Martha might feel. How can we be expected to listen well when things are such a mess?

No really, how can we be expected to listen well when things are such a mess?

'Cause things are a mess and there are a lot of problems to solve. A lot of dirty dishes, if you will. Our national problem of racism comes to mind, but other issues of injustice also. And we have a lot of Marthas who are feeling resentful and abandoned and overwhelmed and left to fend for themselves with the odds against them. And rightly so.

Let’s pray that, like Mary, we can bask in the presence of Jesus and the good news and allow it to get into our bones and inform our hearts, but let's also help the Marthas so they can hear it too.

God of grace and peace, give us perspective on our national problems in light of the gospel of the Kingdom of God.
Give us grace and peace.

Grant that we may have the heart of Martha, understanding our responsibility and calling to peacemaking;
Willing to work hard to set things right.
Grant that we may have the heart of Mary, understanding that the presence of Jesus in our midst is the most important thing to seek;
Willing to seek first your kingdom.
Grant that we may have patience with the mess we are in, understanding that transformation is a process,
Willing to take the first steps.

Jesus, we invite you among us now
That we may sit at your feet.

We say to the worried and distracted,
The Kingdom of God is at hand.
We say to the spiritually hungry,
The Kingdom of God is near.

May we know the treasure of the presence of Christ,
The peace of the presence of God;
God among us,
God with us.

And may we set our distractions aside, making space to hear your voice, and only then setting about our work,
To be the hands and feet of Christ in a worried world.

Amen

For Alton Sterling and Philando Castile: Prayers from the BCP

I sat down yesterday to write a litany about Alton Sterling. To offer some mourning or lament or ask God for a fresh round of hope, a dose of something alive that might help. I had nothing. And then I looked at a news site this morning and discovered that another black man, Philando Castile, was killed last night, also by a cop.

Still I have nothing. Maybe tomorrow I will have a prayer to pray of my own. Not today.

So, I went to the BCP. That’s the Book of Common Prayer, for all the Protestant Evangelicals who, like me, had never seen a prayer book other than Psalms. There I found a few gems of helpful goodness that could .

I was especially inspired by a few phrases from a Prayer for Ordination of a Deacon, which says:

...[C]arry out in tranquillity the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord...  (p 540)

Racism and violence have grown old and must be made new. From the ground up, we need a new paradigm. We have outgrown them, but some parts of our society are not letting go; some are choosing to remain enemies, mired in corruption. Kyrie eleison.

This is, for me, the beauty of written prayers: to have somewhere to turn when my own emotions have overwhelmed me and dried up my ability to pray on my own; or when the thing I need to pray about is unthinkable. This is why I write prayers, and why we can lean on the prayer books that have been handed down to us. Pray with me now from the Book of Common Prayer*.

Prayer for the Human Family
O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son;
Look with compassion on the whole human family;
take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts;
break down the walls that separate us;
unite us in bonds of love;
and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth;
that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen (p 815)

Prayer for the Future of the Human Race
O God our heavenly Father, you have blessed us and given us dominion over all the earth: Increase our reverence before the mystery of life and give us new insight into your purposes for the human race, and new wisdom and determination in making provision for its future in accordance with your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen ( p 828)

Here I have pulled out some lines from The Great Litany

O God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth,
Have mercy upon us.
O God the Son, Redeemer of the world,
Have mercy upon us.
O God the Holy Ghost, Sanctifier of the faithful,
Have mercy upon us.

From all blindness of heart; from pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy; from envy, hatred, and malice; and from all want of charity,
Good Lord, deliver us.
From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared,
Good Lord deliver us.

That it may please you to bless and keep all your people,
We beseech you to hear us, good Lord.
That it may please you to make wars to cease in all the world; to give to all nations unity, peace, and concord; and to bestow freedom upon all peoples,
We beseech you to hear us, good Lord.
That it may please you to have mercy upon all mankind,
We beseech you to hear us, good Lord.
That it may please you to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts,
We beseech you to hear us, good Lord.
That it may please you to grant to all the faithful departed eternal life and peace,
We beseech you to hear us, good Lord.

O Lamb of God, that takes away the sins of the world,
Have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God, that takes away the sins of the world,
Grant us your peace.

Kyrie eleison. (Lord, have mercy upon us.)

Grant us grace to entrust Alton Sterling and Philando Castile to your never-failing love; receive them into the arms of your mercy, and remember them according to the favor which you bear unto your people.
Amen (from “Burial I” p 481)

Thanks Be To God
for the collection of prayers of the saints throughout the ages
which give a light in dark times.
Amen

*I use The Book Of Common Prayer according to the use of The Episcopal Church
Oxford University Press, New York.

Litany for Trump and Hillary, or, What To Pray When You're Worried

I love to vote. The year I turned 18 was an election year, and I drove 2.5 hours from college to my hometown just so I could vote in the presidential election for my first time. I appreciate the right to vote. I think voting is, not a perfect system, but a strong one. As a woman, voting is an especially cherished right. When I think about women like Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Alice Paul, and others who organized, were imprisoned, and in some cases died fighting for women’s suffrage - you can bet I’m damn well gonna vote.

We vote all kinds of ways: on ballots, with dollars, by participation. Some we are conscious of, some are tacit. This is human economy. This is a system of government generations of people, people we know and love, have defended to the death, mostly with honor and courage and good intentions. I’m grateful that I live in a relatively safe society (tragic events of this weekend notwithstanding, we are generally safer than, say, Syria), a relatively free one, a relatively functional one, a relatively just one; thanks to the blood, sweat, and tears of those women and men who came before me and stand around me. I think we collectively are grateful.

We’re grateful, but everyone seems worried lately. 49 people were gunned down this last weekend, which is worrisome to say the least. We are worried or angry or both. One group is worried that Trump is going to be elected president. Another group is worried that Hillary Clinton will be elected. The other group is worried by the idea of either candidate arriving in the White House as one of the most powerful politicians on the planet, potentially causing the whole voting-economy-government system to crumble. We're convinced that someone is going to send us all to hell in a handbasket.

I’m tempted to worry too. I’m tempted to stew on my bafflement. I’m tempted to judge and condemn people with whom I disagree. I’m tempted to stop trusting in Jesus and start trusting in a politician or political party or system of government to save me from my fate of brokenness, war, poverty, sickness, consumerism, greed, hatred, and power-hunger. I’m tempted to bury my head, withhold my vote, stop reading news and interacting with people, and indulge in false consolation. I’m tempted to get stuck in anger.

But here’s the thing: I don’t think there’s any voting in the Kingdom of God. I think the best system we’ve come up with for governing human beings doesn’t even come close to the goodness of God. I think our best attempts at a fair and functional economy cannot compare with the gold standard of the currency of God, which is Gracious Love. I think we cannot even conceive of the Justice of God, and our best imitation of it is only a shadow, subject to corruption. I think the best political leaders the world has ever seen will bow before Jesus along with the rest of us when he comes.

So.

I wonder if there’s another way for me aside from worry and anger. I wonder if there is a way to walk on top of murky waters. I wonder if there’s anything I can do that might be helpful. I wonder if there’s an alternative to despair.

If you are worried and wondering too, I invite you to pray with me.

Maker of All Things, we invite You now
into our feelings of discomfort, confusion, anger, fear, and worry
over How Things are Going to Be.

We are reminded:
That Jesus did not resist the political regime of his time,
     but instead preached the Kingdom of God.
That Jesus did not condemn or punish,
     but instead healed, fed, traveled, talked, and ate meals with people.
That Jesus did not worry,
     but instead prayed when he was troubled.

We acknowledge that human leaders are flawed.
We acknowledge that human systems fall short.
We acknowledge that hardship is always present this side of eternity.

We acknowledge that Jesus will save the world.
    Not a politician. Jesus.
    Not a judge. Jesus.
    Not a celebrity or even a pastor. Jesus.
We acknowledge that Jesus has already begun that work;
    In us, with us, through us, Jesus is saving the world.
We acknowledge that the Kingdom of God is expanding, unstoppable.

We ask for Your Gracious Love.
We ask for wisdom and compassion.
We ask for strength and courage to do our best work for Your kingdom, work that will last.
We ask for goodness and mercy to follow us all the days of our lives.
We ask for our faith to grow.

We set aside worry; instead we take up grace and peace, which You offer abundantly.
We put our hope in Jesus Christ, and in His kingdom.
We give thanks that our future is safe in Your hands.

Amen

Litany for I'm Sorry

I had planned to post a litany today about Trump and Hillary (and about Jesus), which I feel pretty excited about sharing. But I just can’t do it; it will have to wait. I can’t turn off all the feelings I feel about the Orlando shooting. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about how a specific community of people was targeted and systematically put to death in cold blood by a maniac. I have had to monitor my intake of news about it, lest it overwhelm me completely. I feel guilty saying that sentence because some people don’t have a choice about whether or not this thing will overwhelm them, because it has definitely, without a doubt, overwhelmed them with sorrow, grief, loss, lament, pain, despair, hopelessness.

And then I read some folks criticizing church folks for waiting until now, until something completely tragic and unthinkable has happened, to extend any kindness toward the LGBT community. Which is kind-of valid, church. Although it’s also kind-of valid that a lot of us have been loving and welcoming LGBT folks all along we just haven’t made any headlines about it. So that feels kind-of dismissive, but then again maybe we should have been a little louder about our love. But then again we’ve all just been doing our damndest to live well in the context we are in, to see as far as our horizon will let us, and try to be some kind of bridge people between the ideologies that keep us in tension all the stinking time. Which is exhausting but I shouldn’t be complaining because I’m not the one getting persecuted and gunned down and I probably don’t even know the meaning of exhausted in comparison.

Do you see the complexity here? Do you see how many feelings it might be possible for anyone on any side of this to feel? Do you see the rabbit holes it is possible for a person’s mind to go down, how many guilts it is possible to internalize, how many sorrows it is possible to become engulfed by, how frustrated it is possible to get? Or is that just me?

Let me dial this down for us:
God loves human beings; that’s God’s thing. If we are not about the business of loving human beings, then we are not doing God’s thing; we are doing something else, and woe to us.

To the LGBTQ community, in which I have friends and family and beloved folks:
I’m sorry I didn’t live my love louder before now.
I’m sorry the society we live in left the door wide open for this to happen, and for all the ways I’m complicit in that society.
I’m sorry the church-section I’m a part of has done such a shitty job of loving you, and for all the ways I’ve been complicit in that.
I’m sorry for every time I’ve ever missed an opportunity to love you, to listen to you, or to walk beside you in companionable silence.
I’m sorry we haven’t gotten far enough along in our relationship to trust one another with deep things.

I believe that Jesus is for you.
I believe that the Kingdom of God, inaugurated by Jesus, is for you.
I believe that when Jesus says, “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest,” He means you, too.
I believe that God made you, God loves you, and God is pouring out love upon love indiscriminately on you all your life.

I want to do better at getting in line with God’s agenda on that.
I want to do better at trading stories with you and hearing your heart.
Forgive me.

God:
We, the church, Your body on earth, turn to You in humility and contrition, confessing our failure at loving our LBGTQ brothers and sisters well.

We’ve insulated ourselves.
We’ve turned a blind eye to injustice.
We’ve perpetuated misunderstanding.
We’ve capitulated to fear.
We’ve withheld help and concern.
We’ve cheapened the grace of Jesus.
We’ve forgotten that, of faith, hope, and love; love is greatest.

We know that where we are inadequate, You are more than enough.
We know that there is always redemption when Jesus is around.
We know that Jesus is always where the pain is.

Our hearts mourn for the pain we have caused.
We are sorry.
Help us to be better at following the Way of Love.

Amen
 

Litany for Repentance From Bigotry

Yesterday I had the poignant honor of reading two of my litanies, one for an interfaith vigil honoring and mourning those 50 LGBTQ+ persons killed in the attack in Orlando, and another at a subsequent vigil hosted by Austin Pride.  A couple of Muslim leaders spoke, calling for an end to violence, extolling the mercy and compassion of God. Several members of the LGBTQ+ community spoke, exhorting the community to combat hate with love. The mayor of Austin and a few other local politicians spoke. A Rabbi gave a lovely blessing and sang peace over us. A handful of Christians spoke (I actually prefer the term Follower of Jesus, but, ahem), myself included along with Ben, one of the pastors of my church.

I hardly know how I got there, except I know somebody who knows somebody, and so forth, and Ben brought me along, and somehow following Jesus tends to take us to unexpected places (the glorious run-on sentence of faith-life). I am nobody these people know, so why should they listen to me? I have no title, nor am I technically a vocational “faith leader.” And yet, there I was, hands full of prayers I’ve written, being handed a microphone. Prayers about grief, terrorism, justice and equality, suffering. The best I could offer to a wounded community.

I thanked God that I had written these prayers, that they were ready and available and potentially helpful in a time of deep tragedy, at the same time that I felt sad that I’d ever had to write such prayers; sad that we must have language for such grief.

In between the two vigils, a group of hundreds of us marched down the streets of Austin with a police escort, from one vigil to another, demonstrating our solidarity with those who have been lost, and with the vibrant community who lost them. I had never been to an event like this. I had never even considered events like this to be of much use; obviously, I got schooled. I’d never really understood the point of marching. I’d never understood that marching is more about the hearts of the people who march than it is about observers or political statements or news-making.

Marching, Marching, down Congress

I thought of that horde of folks, marching around the Galilean countryside, traipsing after Jesus; they had gotten so focused on following that they neglected to bring food. They needed Jesus to feed them in more ways than one. I thought of Jesus’ compassion on them, on their hunger, when he could have said too bad so sad you dummies walked out into the wilderness uninvited with no food. What must those folks have felt as they marched? What was happening in their hearts? I can tell you I still don’t fully understand marching but I have a new appreciation for it.  There is something to be said for walking with people.

I am not a part of the LGBTQ+ community, not even peripherally. But I have a new level of love for those folks and what they’ve endured, what they are still enduring. I want to stand in solidarity with them in their grief and loss and fear and in the great temptation to give hate for hate. I have been given a new heart, yet again. As I spoke to folks and looked in their eyes I felt anew the love of God for each person, going out, going out, going out; just like it always does.

A bigot is a person who is intolerant of people who have a different way of thinking. I have never considered myself a bigot (who does?). In fact I have tried hard to NOT be a bigot. I know a few bigots and they aren’t pleasant people (and yet the Love of God is going out, going out, going out to them). But I think there are ways bigotry slips in unacknowledged. I think there are ways I have been bigoted without even realizing it. There are patterns of thought my mind has followed that were maybe taught to me, or maybe assumed, and that maybe ignorance has perpetuated.

So I offer this prayer, along with an invitation for you to come alongside me in praying it.

Compassionate God,
Have mercy on us sinners.

We confess our blindness.
We confess our small-mindedness.
We confess our tendency to think that what we think about the hearts of others is always true.
We confess our judgment and suspicion of things and people unfamiliar to or different from us.
We confess our inability to perfectly follow the Way of Love.

Of bigotry, we repent.
Of condemnation, we repent.
Of lack of compassion, we repent.
Of ignorance, we repent.
Of unwillingness to walk with people You love, we repent.

Keep on giving us new hearts.
Keep on shaping our minds and our perspectives.
Keep on training us in the Way of Love.
Keep on refreshing our understanding of Jesus.
Keep on expanding our minds, even as Your Kingdom is expanding.
Don’t give up on us, even when we are stubborn and self-righteous.

Amen

Litany for Victims of Sexual Violence

The story of “Emily Doe’s” rape by an over-privileged white male athlete who was convicted but given a light jail sentence is deeply troubling. Her valiant fight and speaking out against rape culture is, however, inspiring and necessary. Thanks to Emily Doe, light is being shed on ways that this country is tolerant of rape, lenient toward money and privilege, prejudiced against women victims, and still has far to go in regards to equality. It’s a good thing our faith is not in the political or judicial systems because those are miserably failing. Jesus’ good kingdom is our only hope. We pray and hope and work for better.

If you're using this litany in a congregational or group setting, I recommend omitting the "We acknowledge" section. For the purpose of personal prayer, I feel that section contains worthwhile reminders about Jesus and his ideas about power.


God, our hearts are hurting for our sisters and brothers who have been victims
  of rape, sexual abuse, violence.
Help us to help and care for them, and stand in solidarity with them.

For those who are victims of sexual violence we pray
Lord, have mercy.
For those whose bodies and minds have been violated
Christ, have mercy.
For those who have been overpowered physically or emotionally
Be their refuge.
For those who have felt helpless
Be their stronghold and help in trouble.
For those who have borne up under sexual abuse
Be their comfort and healer.
For those who have felt too damaged in body or mind to go on
Be their hope.
For those whom the legal system has failed,
Fight for them, Oh God.

We acknowledge that violence is not the way of Jesus.
We acknowledge that Jesus never forces his way on us, but wins us.
We acknowledge that Christ awaits our consent to enter our hearts and lives.
We acknowledge that Christ loved and respected people from all walks of life, all genders.
We acknowledge that Christ did not wield physical power over people, but healed and forgave.
We acknowledge that justice belongs to You, and we can trust You for it.
We acknowledge that Christ came to save the world;
    the victim and the perpetrator,
    the rich and the underprivileged,
    the foolish and the wise.

God, hear our prayer:
We ask for justice,
     understanding that we may not see it this side of eternity.
We ask for peace,
     which the Spirit of God is always offering here and now.
We ask for mercy,
     for violence to cease.
We ask for rest,
     that those traumatized may sleep each night in the peace of Your presence.
We ask for redemption,
     for the perpetrators to repent and make amends.
We ask for healing,
     for deep wounds to be mended.
We ask for forgiveness,
     that victims may be free from seeking revenge,
     and perpetrators may be made new by the forgiveness of Christ.

May Your kingdom come on earth.
May Your love abound to all, redeeming all.

Amen
 

Litany for Identity

Recently, in the songwriting group I lead and host in my home, we had a long discussion about identity; about how so many of us are in various ways asleep to who we are, asleep to who God is, and how our identity is so central to the gospel of Jesus. But for many of us, it feels elusive - who am I again?

When I became a mother I had an identity crisis that lasted a year or more. I didn't DO any of the stuff I used to DO, and I had a hard time finding myself in the midst of all the new and unfamiliar stuff I did DO. Where had I gone? Who was this tired person with an entirely new set of priorities and schedule? Figuring it out was long work, in part because I am trained to believe that what I DO is who I AM. Disabusing myself of this idea is an uphill battle.

Identity is a huge idea, and this prayer only begins to scrape the crust of it. But for those of us who struggle, either because of our temperament or a season of life that has forced the issue, I'm hoping this prayer might be a good start.

Creator God, You formed us.
We are fearfully and wonderfully made.
In You we live and move
And have our being.

We acknowledge that many voices try to tell us who we are,
     Who we are not.
Many voices tell us our value is based upon
     Appearance
     Achievement
     Social status
     Gender
     Ethnicity
     Posessions
     Talent

Many would have us believe that our Doing is more important than our Being.
We renounce these voices.
We are Your Children, the work of your hands,
Unique and beloved by You.

May we become more awake to Your love,
Which has no limits.
Your love,
Which defines us.
Your love,
Which begins us and completes us.

May we walk in the sureness of our identity,
In the confidence of Your love.
May all we do come from the core of who we are:
Loved, and made of love.

Amen

I Interrupt This Litany of Litanies...

to give you
a poem
my dad wrote
(which I edited the tiniest bit).
 

Dying is Changing
   by Jonathan Pratt

From judgement of events
From judgement of intents
From Goods, Bads, Trues, Falses, Wrongs or Rights.
From regretted or resented
   pains felt,
   pains dealt.
From Wants, Needs, and hopeful, fearful Mights.
From me.
From we.

To peaceful awareness, unending Living.

Am I dying yet?
Am I dead yet?
The questions are the answer:
Yes, but no, not yet.

Litany for Doubt

In contemporary church-y, Jesus-y culture, we have little language to express doubt; and little room in our paradigms for sitting in the tension of it. Mostly, you are either in, or you’re out. I find that lots of people have a sophisticated (or at least wordy) theology about doubt and they know all the right answers, and usually those are the folks who have never actually traveled it. It’s easy to say, from a place of faith: you should put a lid on your doubt.

I don’t want to do that.

My personal experience with doubt has been informative and valuable. I feel that Jesus’ response to my doubt has always been a gracious “Here, touch my hands and side” (1); and “I saw you under the fig tree” (2). For better or worse, I want to explore it, to remember what it felt like when I was there, and allow it to portray my faith in relief, with depth and shadow and dimension. I feel pretty sure that to doubt is to admit that mystery is an ingredient of faith, a color in its spectrum.

This litany uses more poetic imagery than most of what I post. But I have found that regular words aren’t enough to give vent to doubt. If the entree is hard questions, it needs a side of groaning, and a chaser of silence.

Honestly, if you are in a season of doubt, and you are able to pray this (or any) prayer at all, well, good for you. And if your “sometimes” is moving toward “always,” then Blessings, Sister. Blessings, Brother.

Litany for Doubt

God, sometimes we feel as if You are not there at all.
We cannot hear You through the static of our emotions,
   the cacophony of voices,
   the fullness and the void.
We cannot see You in the fabric of the visible and scientific.
We cannot feel You in the tension and the grit.

People say “God doesn’t exist” and sometimes we believe them.

We want to believe You.
We want You to be Good. Love. True.
Help our unbelief. (3)

We have been hurt. Shattered, perhaps.
We have been disappointed, and are inclined to minimize risk.
We can say with the Psalmist: “All day long I have been afflicted,
    And every morning brings new punishments.” (4)
Let Your grace pierce the armor we set about ourselves.

Have mercy on us in our doubt, and meet us in our weakness.
Where we are skeptical, be gracious to us.
Where our expectations are unmet, be generous to us.
Where we have unanswered questions, gently teach us.

We acknowledge that doubt is an opportunity to become deeply quiet,
   To wait.

On our own we can hardly open the door for You.
We will need You to stealthily creep in.
We will need Your patience, and all the loving-kindness You can muster
To make up for our lack.

If there is any language we can understand,
Surely it is Love.
If there is any small spark our eyes can see,
Surely it is Love.

Amen
 

1. John 20:27
2. John 1:48
3. Mark 9:24
4. Psalm 73:14

Litany for Gratitude 2 + The Dark Side of Gratitude

Over on my Instagram (@franniep) this month I've been sharing a few things each day for which I'm grateful. Big or small, impactful or trivial, I'm just naming things I'm grateful for. This has had some surprising effects. For one, it's getting easier each day to put on my gratitude glasses and see things I'm thankful for. It's getting easier to sit with gratitude and allow it to change my outlook on life.

But for all I think that gratitude is an indispensable part of a healthy outlook, necessary to counteract cynicism and enlarge our picture of God, I think gratitude might have a dark side. I've caught myself several times feeling guilty for feeling gratitude. So many people don't have the privileges I have, the freedoms, their basic needs met. So many have kids who aren't in vibrant health, or family situations that are painful or difficult. Isn't it smug and prideful of me to dwell on all my blessings, list them out, take photos of them and post them on social media, acknowledge them and allow myself the pleasure of enjoying them?

It kind of is, isn't it?

Furthermore I've been in some painful, messy places in life, and was I very good at practicing gratitude during those times? Not hardly. Isn't gratitude supposed to be a good clean feeling, black and white, no gray allowed? Isn't it mean to rub gratitude in the face of people in pain?

It kind of is. No one told me it would be so messy.

When I let my thoughts come full circle, I think it would be worse to not be grateful. It would be worse to not enjoy and participate in feasting on life whenever the opportunity arises. It would be small-hearted and cynical to not assume a posture of gratitude. It would be worse to deny the mercy of God whenever we are offered it.

This is a thing the discipline of gratitude does: it opens our eyes. Both to our blessing and to our privilege, to our undeserving and our responsibility, to our smallness and our preciousness. A posture of gratitude can illuminate that gray area between abundance and poverty, and inform our perception of them. It can illuminate joy as well as joy's pesky sidekick: suffering.

And also, gratitude gets easier. The more we do it, the more naturally we revert to it. I think we should practice it whenever we can if we hope to have any capacity for it at all when suffering comes. So to that end, I've written us a prayer to practice with, and hopefully help us wear grooves of gratitude in our hearts so that we can find them by touch, even in the dark.

I’ve kept to a simple refrain in this instance for congregational ease, but I have another Litany for Gratitude here.

Great God, You created the good earth and all its creatures, the heavens and all they contain.
We give thanks.
You give us life. You give us consciousness and choices. You give us love.
We give thanks.

For the blessings of family, friendships, and worldly provision,
We give thanks.
For the blessings of talent, aptitude, and meaningful work,
We give thanks.
For the blessings of food, wine, and good conversation, those times of feast and enjoyment,
We give thanks.
For the blessings of trivial pleasures, small gifts meant for our happiness,
We give thanks.
For the blessings of expression, song, art, human ingenuity, and creativity,
We give thanks.
For the blessings of peace that come from knowing You,
We give thanks.

When we survive mishaps
We give thanks.
When we endure consequences and pain
We give thanks.
When we must combat evil with goodness and love
We give thanks.
When we must deny ourselves, bear burdens, and obey
We give thanks.
When we must suffer loss and disappointment
We give thanks.
When me must come to the end of our physical lives
We give thanks.

When we chose violence and rebellion, you made a way to recover us.
We give thanks.
The way is Christ: the true and full, shining image of Your love.
We give thanks.
For Jesus Christ and the Kingdom he began here, in which You invite us to participate,
We give thanks.
And for the experience of living on earth, in all its paradoxes and mingling of joy and suffering,
We give thanks.

Amen.

Litany for Our Enemies + That Time I Accidentally Told My Kid About ISIS

*I'm sharing a story along with a litany today. I usually try to keep strictly to the prayers, but maybe sometimes a story will give context for how a litany can be a useful place to go, a useful tool in a kit for coping with the reality of evil and posturing ourselves towards Jesus.

I accidentally told my 5 year old daughter about ISIS. Oops.

The conversation started at bedtime, as many of our deep conversations do, in those still moments when mostly I’m feeling antsy and ready to be done parenting for the day but am trying to remain present and sing songs, talk quietly, help them decompress for sleep. I don’t even really remember how we got started, but I was caught off guard and unprepared for the line of questioning, and ISIS has been on my mind so therefore I let the ISIS cat out of the bag. I also have this pesky value for telling my kids the truth that sometimes trips me up.

I think we were talking about kindness, and in the context of that I said the word “violence.”

What’s violence?
It’s doing things that hurt people.
Like being mean?
Yes. We want to be kind, not violent.
But some people are violent?
Yes, some people are.
You mean some people are mean?
Yes.
Where do they live?
Well, there are mean people everywhere, but I don’t think you know any.
(My kid just learned that mean people exist. Hallelujah. Christ, have mercy.)
But WHERE ARE THEY?
Well, there are some mean people in a place far away called the Middle East, they call themselves ISIS.
(Oh I have done it now. Instant regret. No turning back now.)
What do they do? Do they kill people?
Yes, they do. They do violence.
How do they do it? With bow and arrows? With guns?
(Here is where my head is finally on straight and I refuse to mention bombs. I deflect, for better or worse.)
Why do they do it?
I think they are confused about what God’s way is. God’s way is love, peace, and beauty.
Do they have neighbors and friends? Do they try to hurt them?
They have neighbors; I don’t know if they have friends.
Are they sad and lonely?
I think they might be.
What do the neighbors do?
I think some try to help them change, and some try to move away to a safer place.
THAT MAKES ME SO SAD. I’M GONNA CRY NOW, MAMA.

You and me both, sister. Now, let me pause here and say that this is an abbreviated version of the conversation, and that my mind was churning with how best to respond. There were a lot of other questions. (Do they wear red and black clothes? They wear regular clothes.) (How do you know about them? I read the news.) She is a very empathetic soul, and I don’t want her up in the night worrying about terrorists and refugees at age 5. But I do want to give her a place to go with the sorrow. So I say:

Jesus tells us to “love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.”
What’s persecute?
Be mean to. Would you like to pray for ISIS and their neighbors?
Yes!
Jesus please bless the people of ISIS. Please show them your way of love, peace, and beauty. Please change their hearts and show them kindness. Help them not to be confused about God’s way.
AND HELP THEIR NEIGHBORS MOVE!
Help their neighbors find a safe place. Help the mean people become kind.
AMEN.

I held hands with my sweet little daughter, lying in her little bed, and prayed for the redemption of ISIS. This is the story of how my parenting gaffe made possible a moment of impossible beauty and sadness. My head is still swimming with it. And isn’t this typical of Jesus? To hide a core of beauty within apparent sadness? Isn’t this exactly what happened on Resurrection Day? So, there is sadness that my child must eventually have the knowledge of good and evil, and that other children live in the lap of evil daily; but there is beauty that THERE IS ALWAYS PRAYER. There is always a beautiful way to follow. There is always hope. And there is always, always forgiveness and redemption.

I invite you to pray now:

Resurrected Jesus, we call upon your mercy now.
We ask you to turn your attention to our enemies, those who do violence and terror, who kill and destroy.
Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
We ask you to bless, love, and redeem them; to show them the kindness of your heart.
We ask you to lovingly clear up their misunderstanding of God’s way.
We ask you to care for and protect those innocents around them.
We ask you to bring them all, violent and innocent, into the safety of your kingdom.
Amen