Proper 10, Year B: Litany for the Called

In the First Testament reading from Amos 7, we encounter Amos - a “herdsman and dresser of sycamore trees” turned prophet, as he’s being rebuked by the king’s priests for prophesying doom upon the nation. They don’t want to hear it. Go away and prophesy somewhere else, they say (Amos 7:12). And Amos explains: he didn’t ask for this job. He just woke up one day and it was there for him to do. He remembered his calling; God reminded him.

In this week’s Gospel reading from Mark 6 we get the story of how John the Baptist was beheaded by Herod, at the request of his mistress. Another prophet down, another truth-teller silenced - John, who had been awake to his calling for much of his life.

Remember in last week’s gospel, when Jesus comments poignantly on the way prophets are routinely dishonored by their own communities? If we needed more evidence of this, here it is in these readings.

I’m thinking about us: people who are called to bring a message to the world, or a work of healing, some art, or to hold a particular space. I tend to think we are all here for a reason, that our special presence on the earth is necessary, and that part of our work here is to realize our true selves (hidden with Christ in God) and wake up to our calling. That’s my personal belief, so take it as you will.

This litany is for us. The ones who are awakening to our particular calling and authentic selves. 

(If you would rather utilize a different prayer this week, here is Litany for Dancing, written for Proper 10 in 2018. )



God, we know that living an authentic life, 
Realizing our calling 
Awakening to our True Selves, 
Is risky business. …


Proper 9 (Year B): Litany for the Powers That Be

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Here is my litany from this Lectionary cycle in 2018: Litany for the Prophets

This week’s Lectionary texts are replete with imagery of power, rulers, strongholds…. And their polarity: weakness. Vulnerability, if you will. 

The First Testament reading gives an account of the power of David during his rule, reigning over Israel from a mighty stronghold. The Psalms speak of God enthroned in the heavens, or in “his holy city,” and beseech God for mercy and victory, which is associated with love. Like: if God loves us God will give us victory over enemies.

In the epistle, Paul ruminates on the paradox of strength in weakness. And in the gospel reading, Jesus comments on the power and honor given to, and withheld from, prophets, instructing the disciples not to carry anything with them that might signify prestige, influence, honor, wealth or power. He makes sure they go about empty-handed - no supplies or weapons - powerless except for their Spirit access. 

Here Christ seems to repudiate any reliance on conventional forms of power. And Paul seems to catch his vibe, producing the iconic line so many of us can recite without thinking: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

The power of Jesus here, and the kind of power his ancestor David wields, seem to be at odds. This litany leans into these themes.

God, we are watching how power plays out in this world,
How many people are hungry for it, 
How many people are utterly without worldly power, 
How many are entranced by it. …

Proper 8 (Year B): Litany for Absolute Love

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Here is my litany for Proper 8, Year B from 2018: Litany for What Ails Us

The First Testament reading in this week’s Lectionary is David’s lament for the passing of Saul and Jonathan. In David’s relationship with Jonathan, he experiences something new to him, a new frontier of love. He says of Jonathan, “your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.” Blowing past what he’d previously experienced. Hm. 

The Psalms and Lamentations texts are meditations on the “steadfast love” of God, even in the midst of life’s most difficult experiences. St. Paul extols the generous nature of Christ’s Love in the epistle. And Christ himself epitomizes the healing and restorative nature of Love in the gospel text. 

We might read these texts with questions in mind: what is Love? What is the nature of Love? Where is Love found? Where does Love come from? 

It is such a big idea that it is unsayable. Unwriteable. But we get these hints: relationality, restoration, healing, generosity, unceasing, steadfast, eternal, abundant. 

And this: whatever we *think* love is, it is more. 

I have more hunches about Love: that it is the sum of everything. That it is the “ground of being.” That it’s that elusive thing our physicists dance around when they’re trying to figure out dark matter and dark energy. Anyway, that’s why I’m still writing prayers about it - because as trite as it might sound, I think it’s the most important thing, and in fact, it’s everything. It’s God. It’s us. It’s life. I’ll never be done writing and thinking about it. 


God, we are learning about Love,
Setting aside all our old assumptions about it, 
Practicing and playing with it, 
And re-imagining ourselves in light of it.


Proper 7, Year B: Litany for Hearts Wide Open

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Here is my previous litany from 2018, Year B, Proper 7: Litany for the Desperate

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we are remembering. Re-membering. Putting the body of knowledge back together again. Becoming conscious members once again of a Community. We forget that we are part of the body of God. We forget that our true selves are “hidden with Christ in God.” And that DOESN’T MEAN that our true selves are hidden from us or inaccessible to us. It means we are enfolded in God, God being all around everywhere available. Waiting to be remembered.

(I’m using words to try to express a fairly profound spiritual truth, which is always tricky business.)

My point is: I’m thinking (and learning from many spiritual teachers) that it is our work here to re-member ourselves as parts of Christ/God on earth. And then to live out that essential truth in our thoughts, words, and actions.

And then Saint Paul speaks so beautifully about the paradoxes we are muddling through here on earth, and how we are learning to recognize our true selves among all this contrast. He says: “Our hearts are wide open.” Which I take as a shorthand way of expressing that our hearts are mirroring God’s heart as part of God’s heart. We assume the wide-open-hearted posture of God toward all beings, toward ourselves, toward each other. When we can do this, we’ve come home to our true nature and the world will reverberate with our home-coming.

God, we are here in this realm of contrast, relativity, and duality,
Learning to recognize ourselves -
You in us, us in you.
You flung open your heart to us!

Proper 6 (Year B): Litany for Perceiving Beyond Appearance



As I read through this week’s Lectionary passages, I’m reflecting on God’s advice to Samuel as he has to pick yet another king for the fractious Hebrew nation, after Saul’s kingship turns disastrous: "Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the LORD does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7).

This theme of perceiving beyond appearance is reinforced in the Ezekiel: “I bring low the high tree, I make high the low tree…” and in the 2 Corinthians: “we regard no one from a human point of view”. And finally it’s there in the words of Christ in Mark 4 regarding the Mustard Seed: “smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs…”

Jesus says in the beatitudes: don’t judge. These texts bring us back to that non-judgement, that call to humility. Remember: you have no idea what you’re looking at. You have no idea the true nature of the person you’re talking to, beyond the fact that they are innately beloved and part of the Imago Dei. You have no idea what this seed can become. You have no idea what diamonds lie behind these wounds.

God, we look at tiny seeds,
Which appear insignificant, easily lost,
With no notion of the potential they hold, or what they might become,
Given the right nurturing:
Soil, water, sunlight,
A recipe for greatness (1).

Proper 5 (Year B): Litany for Non-Hierarchy

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Human societies are addicted to hierarchies. At least, that’s my theory. This First Testament story from 1 Samuel illustrates my point.

For about 300 years after the time of Joshua, after the Exodus and desert wandering, the Hebrew people had been governed by an amorphous group of leaders - Judges, functioning as ad hoc mediators and elders. More guiding the nation than ruling it. No centralized government. No conglomerated power. A communal effort. Plus there were the priests and Samuel the prophet, trying to listen to God.

The people hate it. At least the loud ones do. (Personally, I wonder what the mothers thought…?) And beg Samuel the Prophet/Priest to find them a king. They want a ruler to bring glory and prosperity and victory to them. They want to be like other respectable “kingdoms.”

God says to Samuel: you may as well listen to them because they aren’t going to let me lead them. So Samuel warns them in no uncertain terms: this way lies empire, war, toil, loss, oppression, slavery. Yes, we want this, they say. So Samuel, resigned, agrees to “renew the kingship.” And Saul is appointed King over Israel.

Of course, Samuel was right. Hierarchy begets oppression. It did then, and it does to this day.

We also get the account from Genesis of the first shame. Adam and Eve in the garden, found out for eating forbidden fruit, experiencing shame for the first time. I read this story all kinds of ways. Today I think: What if the knowledge was knowledge of hierarchy? Hierarchy begets shame.

And then, in the gospel text from Mark 3, Jesus says: here are my mother and brothers. Pointing at… everybody. No hierarchy of relationship. No one person having more access to God’s goodness than any other.

God, our minds are being opened to the ways we are harmed by hierarchal systems.
We see this in the scripture stories (1),
We see this in our family histories,
And we see it at work in our societies:
When a few people are at the top,
A lot of people are always at the bottom…

Trinity Sunday (Year B, 2021): Litany for the Song of Oneness

I’m a fan of the Trinitarian theme: disparate entities forming a whole; separate consciousnesses merging; individuals (gloriously individuated) voluntarily partnering toward Oneness. It puts me in mind of Saint Paul’s words in Ephesians 2 and Colossians 1: “You who were once far off have been brought near...” (Ephesians 2:13, INCL) and “[i]n Christ were created all things in heaven and on earth… and all things hold together in Christ” (Colossians 1:15,17). 

I get the idea that Christ has the ability to hold all this together because he’s practiced the skill in the context of the Trinity. 

But this idea isn’t necessarily coming from this week’s Lectionary texts. These particular passages are extolling a fearsom and glorious “LORD” in the Isaiah and Psalm, who “shakes the wilderness; and highlighting a separation between flesh and spirit in the epistle - “for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live..” Where is the Trinitarian Oneness here? 

My guess is its up to us, up to the work we do here as reflections of Christ and the Godhead, gathering up disparate elements and melding them; taking the circuitry of body and spirit and re-connecting them. We form the connective tissue that binds heaven to earth. We do the work of wholeness-making because we are made in the image of the Christ - a universal gravity holding all things together. In Christ we make cohesive wholes out of fractious fractions. 

The story of the Trinity is written inside every human body. Two disparate, separate cells find a place of quiet warmth; they relinquish their individuality to become a Third. Father, Mother, Child. Creator, Spirit, Body. Breath, Dust, and Embodiment. Heaven, Earth, and We-who-straddle-worlds. 

This week’s litany draws from the Lectionary passages for Trinity Sunday, Year B; namely the Isaiah 6 and Psalm 29, plus a bit of extra lagniappe I threw in. 

God, we turn our attention again to the imagery of the Trinity, 
Of Three-in-One, 
Of Divine wholeness, holiness, sacredness, 
Oneness, togetherness.


Pentecost Year B (2021): Litany for Sighs Too Deep For Words

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The texts for the Day of Pentecost are rich with imagery, metaphor, and narrative. There is a persistent theme of “now and not yet”  - the work is complete but has yet to be fully revealed. The Spirit is available but we have yet to harness it’s full power. The earth dwells in perfection but yearns for the day when all creatures are truly free in body.

The story of Pentecost in Acts is powerful and curious, a story of equality and inclusion, of accessibility, simplicity, and choice. In Acts 2 the Apostle Peter quotes the Prophet Joel’s inclusive and egalitarian vision of God’s Kin-dom, saying “'In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy.”

Everyone who wants in is in, status notwithstanding.

From Resurrection to Pentecost we leap from awakening to consciousness, from believing to seeing. I’ve tried to do the practically-impossible here: to capture our collective wordless longing in words.This litany accompanies the text, drawing from the Ezekiel, Acts, and Romans passages.


God, we are waiting, waiting,
For the redemption of these physical bodies (1);
Even as we know they are already redeemed,
Still we wait for the fullness of time.

Easter 7, Year B (2021): Litany for Straddling the Worlds

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In this week's text from John 17, Jesus is praying for his people. The reading seems like he's praying for his own specific group with whom he's spent the last several years leading up to the crucifixion. But we receive this insider glimpse into his mind - how he thinks about these people he loves, the responsibility he feels for their growth and well-being. This prayer is pastoral, but it's also... familial. Like, brotherly: 'listen pops I tried really hard to keep the kids out of trouble...'

There's also an aspect of it that feels sortof like a personal pep-talk - Jesus knows what's coming will be hard, but he's come this far and he's gearing up for the next phase, cataloguing his successes and mourning his losses (Judas). He leans hard on themes of unity, Oneness, and of belonging, not to paradigms of the world but to the paradigm of Heaven.

I find myself in deep gratitude for this peek into the cry of Jesus’ heart today; how human it is, how vulnerable. We see him, not as a victor (yet), but as a human person on the cusp of literal crucible. I resonate with this Jesus, and I love him - the one who goes to suffering with his beloveds on his mind. And I like to think that when he prayed for them he prayed for me.

Also, I’m seeing how Jesus is praying them right into a new world, a new way of being. And I echo those prayers for protection, for help, for Oneness, for living with one foot in heaven and the other navigating life on earth, straddling two worlds.

God, as Jesus prays for his group of beloved friends,
We pray for ourselves and each other:
Protect us, God (1);
Bring us to an understanding of Oneness;
Make our joy complete (2);
Fill us with truth (3)….

Easter 6, Year B (2021): Litany for Minding Our Own Business

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This litany draws from this week's Lectionary. Here is the one from 2018 if you care to use it.

A major lesson for me over the last few years has been around themes of minding my own business, managing my mind, and refraining from trying to "fix" or change other people. I am the only person whose mind I can change. My job is to do my own spiritual work and the work that the Spirit puts before me to do. My job is to love unconditionally and to forgive everything. By healing myself I heal the world.

This is both liberating AND a hard habit to break. Especially if, like me, you were raised to engage in Christian culture wars, to "win" (arguments, victories, souls, etc.), to be right and righteous, to "defend the faith." But the more I look at the life of Jesus, and listen to the promptings of the Spirit within me, the more deeply I understand the non-defensive, non-judgmental posture of the Christ. I think of him referring to the Pharisees as "white-washed tombs," so focused on the behaviors of other people and disregarding the state of their own hearts. He went to a whole death non-defensively, and got up preaching peace and forgiveness. Imagine it.


God, everything you give,
You give freely.
You make room for everyone who wants into your community,
Everyone who wants to abide in love …

Easter 4, Year B (2021): Litany for Love in Action

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Here is the litany I wrote for the last cycle, Year B, Easter Week 4: Litany for the Good Shepherd

For Easter Week 4 Year B in 2018, my litany focused on John 10, the “I am the Good Shepherd” passage. This year I’m leaning on the Lectionary Epistle, 1 John 3.

God, we know that if we say we love you
And neglect to love our neighbors,
Our words are empty
And our faith is practically useless …



Litany for a Nation Brutalized by Violence

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I have written this litany as an offering. Finding words for the depth and breadth of what the collective, and in particular the Black and Asian communities, are experiencing (and have for centuries) in terms of violence feels impossible. But I feel our communities need to speak aloud about this to God, together. Not for some hollow "unity." But for sacred lament and consciousness.

I have tried to articulate these far-reaching problems - gun violence, violence against Black, Brown, Indigenous, Asian folks, school and mass shootings, and more in this prayer of lament. But the task feels monumental. It is imperfect, but something is better than nothing for putting words and action to this lament. .

It is my hope that we will be drawn in to peace, and toward a non-violent, equitable future, toward Heaven on Earth. All beings safe. All beings provided for. All beings held accountable to love. Amen. Amen. May it be so.



God, we bring to you our lament 
And our sorrow. 

We are a people undone, 
Brutalized by violence:
By gun violence, 
By police violence, 
By violence against Black and Brown people, 
By violence against Indigenous and Asian people. 

Our streets are blood-soaked, 
And our history tainted by supremacist evil. 
We are crying out in lament, 
And we know that you weep with us. 

We grieve every lost life. 
We grieve every orphaned child. 
We grieve alongside every mourning family. 
We grieve every trauma and tragedy. 

We reject every system that makes some of us safe at the expense of the lives of others. 
We reject white supremacy and police militarization.
We reject government-sanctioned execution. 
We reject systems of mass incarceration. 
We reject systems that prioritize whiteness over all other people.
We reject systems of poverty and inequity.  

We lament; and we gather our power. 
We combine our resources to re-imagine this world,
To abolish inequity.
To create a safe and harmonious reality for every person. 
We join with those who have been working for justice tirelessly for decades. 
We apply our energy, money, time, and voices to this work. 

May the government of this nation be moved to right action, 
May the churches of this nation be spurred to work for justice. 
May the local and community leaders of this nation create positive change. 
May the economic systems of this nation cease to reward evil.  
May those who remain asleep or apathetic to injustice become conscious participants for good.
May we as individuals hold our leaders, government, and ourselves accountable to the work.

Let the fire of justice burn in every heart
So that every mother’s child may live in peace and safety.

Amen. 


Easter 3, (Year B 2021): Litany for Peace Be With You

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I find that, occasionally, it makes sense to offer a prayer or liturgy with a simple refrain. It offers a place to mentally land for a few moments, especially in a litany dealing with heavy topics. This week, given the news, feels like one of those weeks. Also, sometimes we need to say a thing aloud a bunch of times to get it into our thick skulls :)

Sunday I preached a sermon about inner peace being an inside job and a choice that we get to make out of our free will about whether to take Christ up on the invitation into let "Peace be with you" regardless of what's happening around us.

And then we are confronted with news of more killings, more injustice, more police violence. (RIP Duante Wright, Lord have mercy.)

I even got news from my best friend that she is suddenly in hospital having emergency surgery.

Bad news is another opportunity for me to practice this lesson. To practice the Peace Within (John 20: 19) regardless of how the world, events, other people, etc are behaving or feeling.

I'm reminded of the hymn lyrics: "Thou wilt keep [them] in perfect peace / whose mind is stayed on Thee."

And I'm convinced that keeping that inner peace fire stoked, we are able to access more empathy, more compassion, and more right action. When we are not spinning our wheels in worry, anxiety, and emotional turbulence (here is the growth edge for me) we are better problem solvers and justice-doers. Today I'm even more sure that Inner Peace is an important Fulcrum of Transformation.

This is difficult spiritual work. Inner peace is not apathy. It's a radical restructuring of our way of being in the world.

We hear the voice of Christ speaking:
Peace be with you (1).
Right now these words seem impossible, mind-boggling,
Even, at times, annoying….

Easter 2 (Year B 2021): Litany for Our Mission

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Helloooooo! This is me, back in real time after my Lenten rest. Thank you all for your prayers, and thanks and welcome to new patrons who have come on board during that time. I offer this litany today with renewed strength.

This week’s Lectionary gospel selection is one of my absolute favorites in scripture, second only to the Beatitudes. In John 20, Jesus, freshly risen from a tomb preceded by unimaginable trauma, speaks some of the most revolutionary and radical ideas of his career. I rarely preach a sermon or give a talk without mentioning them. In fact, I was assigned this weekend to preach at my church and when I discovered that this was the text I got a shiver of rightness. I honestly can’t get over this account of Jesus’ statements.

He does 3 radical, amazing, mind-bending things in this passage: 

1) He speaks peace, like a magic word, like a balm, like a miracle, to the disciples as they cower in fear in a locked room. “Peace be with you” he says. Which is even more crazy when you consider all the things he did NOT say in this moment. Wow. 

2) He breathes on them saying, “receive the holy spirit.” What? Just like that? Breathe it in? It was right here all along like the air? Whoooooosh and there you have it. Everything you ever needed. 

3) He tells them that if they “forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” …. Wait like, us? Like we are the ones who have this power? Not just you, not just God? 

In this moment, the disciples are given access to all the power in the world: the power of peace, the power of the Spirit, and the power of forgiveness. This moment tells me everything I need to know about how to live a life of following Jesus and what I am to embody and spread: peace, spriit, forgiveness. Three fulcrums of transformation. And they are presented so briefly here that we might miss them if we aren’t looking for them. 

Look, go back and read and contemplate it. I hope it will give you chills like it gives me every time. 



God we lay hold of the power you have shared with us
The Peace Christ speaks out over us
The Spirit Christ breathes upon us
The Forgiveness Christ invites us to spread ….


Easter Year B 2021: Litany for Easter People

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Just as we have been finding some solace and acceptance of the cycles of nature, of death > burial > resurrection during Lent, it strikes me that we must also acknowledge what has been completed - those cycles we need no longer participate in if we believe that the Christ completed them fully in his work here on the earth in the Resurrection.

I’m thinking here of cycles of shame perpetuating harm, trauma perpetuating violence, detrimental self-sacrifice perpetuating disempowerment, and the like. 

In particular, I and so many people raised in a similar religious paradigm as I was, were taught that self-sacrifice and service to others was *the way* to live righteously; and I have witnessed the harmful fruit of that teaching in my own life and others’. Many of us sacrificed and served ourselves right out of any authentic identity or empowerment, self-confidence or self-esteem. Especially if we were women.

If we believe that Jesus came to love humanity, aren’t we part of humanity too, and deserving of that love? If we believe that Jesus came to offer “salvation” to humanity (however you interpret that - there are so many ways), aren’t you and I part of that humanity in receipt of salvation? If we believe that Jesus made the “ultimate sacrifice” why do we keep on thinking we need to do more sacrificing? If that work is complete, why do we not live as though it is?

Notice I’m offering questions. Not answers. This is where my head is as I ponder this week’s account of the resurrection of Christ, and as I enter into this more celebratory and joyful season, seeking to integrate the lessons of Lent along with the hope and joy of resurrection. 




God, we are witnesses of what Christ has done (1)

Empowered by the Holy Spirit, 

He went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed (2); 

And You, God, were with him in every moment. 




Palm Sunday, Year B (2021): Litany for the Humble Way

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In Jesus, all of our ideas about glory, royalty, exclusivity, and honor get up-ended. People project all kinds of notions onto him, and he just proceeds with his work healing and preaching his message.

One minute (in last week’s text) he’s talking about how it's time for him to be “glorified” - when what he means is not exactly our ideal glory: death. As opposed to, say, winning military battles or wearing fancy priest robes. And the next minute (in this week’s Palm Sunday text) he’s playing the people’s game, riding into the city on an unbroke donkey. I can imagine him sortof shrugging like, “guess we’re doing this now.”

See, based on his actions here I don’t get the idea that he feels like he needs to be worshipped. He’s trailed by a crowd due to the fact that he’s just raised Lazarus from the dead* but he’s not letting it go to his head or calling attention to himself. He chooses the most lowly of pack animals. He seems happy with paltry palm fronds for offerings. His ego doesn’t require trumpets. He’s the most willing to get down and dirty with lonely and sick people in the streets and byways. I hear his main message as “God’s community is right here for you to join up with” and not “worship me I’m the king of the world.”

And I wonder how often we are getting this wrong: thinking Jesus needs to be put on a pedestal and worshipped rather than learned from and followed. I wonder how often we are that crowd, projecting our need for a loud and rowdy to-do onto Jesus, rather than plugging into the new way of being that he’s embodying and trying to help us wake up to.


God, we witness Christ in the scriptures
Embodying healing love,
Preaching the nearness of God,
Walking along the Path of Peace….

Lent 5, Year B 2021: Litany for Embracing Change

In this week’s gospel text from John 12, Jesus shares the metaphor of the seed undergoing burial in the ground and death - death of its season of existence as a seed - so that it might become the “glorified” version of itself: the full grown wheat plant that bears fruit for nourishment. The “fruit” being more wheat seeds, and so the cycle continues. The wheat is continually undergoing transformation from one state of being to another: seed, sprout, seedling, mature plant, seed..

Jesus says that he must pass through this similar experience, which he then allows his physical body to undergo: the “seed” of his physical body, he says, must be buried so that it can be transformed into a more glorious state and make way for more cycles. He tells us that this is the nature of things on earth: change, transformation, cycles, rhythms. To resist this is to resist life, and he says as much in verse 25: “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

We participate in eternity by our non-resistant participation in these divine rhythms. We become immortal by not resisting death. What a paradox, hey!

The Psalmist prays to be changed - to be cleansed, washed, purged, transformed, and to be made more fundamentally joyful (Psalm 51:7,8). They pray for their old patterns to die and be replaced: “Create in me a clean heart, and put a new and right spirit within me.”

Lent is our opportunity to create the intention of embracing the death that is naturally part of change and transformation. By embracing change, we embrace death, and by embracing death we embrace life.

God, we behold the cycles of nature,
Understanding that change is the constant -
The release of the old to make way for the new,
The acceptance of death to make way for new life….


Lent 4, Year B 2021: Litany for Alignment with Christ

In Jesus’ late-night conversation with Nicodemus we receive John’s famous (and much-romanticized (1) ) remembrance of Jesus’ words: “For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” They beg the question: what does it mean to “believe in him”?

Professor Samuel Cruz of UTS says this:

“ It is therefore necessary to ask some pertinent questions of him and/or this gospel lesson: What does believing in him (Jesus) mean? Why did Jesus need to come into the world? Was it because of sin? If indeed Jesus came to the world to save it from sin, what kind of sin? For John, sin seems to be concrete and structural (that is injustice, hate, lack of mercy, etc.) rather than individualistic….Therefore, for John, believing in Jesus has more to do with what people believe regarding evil, hate, exploitation, and injustice rather an esoteric “religious” conversion.”

I have left writing this installment of this year’s lent series until last, precisely because this verse, over-simplified and over-romanticized, gives such trouble to the modern reader, especially one who has begun any sort of deconstruction from dogmatic or superficial theological interpretation. But Professor Cruz’s words give me hope that we might be able to figure out what it means to truly believe in Christ, to align ourselves with his values, to take up his mission and purpose, to accept his invitation into a new way of being in the world that then becomes ours too. Hope that we might be able, in Western Christianity, to go beyond a flippant or surface-level reading of this passage and allow it to lead us to our true selves, re-creating the world as we go.

 

God, here in this Lenten season, we slough off all that distracts us,
All that doesn’t serve heaven’s cause,
All that is not aligned with the highest good,
All that keeps us from becoming our truest selves:
Inheritors of the riches of God’s grace,
Adopted and beloved siblings with Christ…

Lent 3, Year B 2021: Litany for the Inner Sanctuary

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When Christ turned over the tables of the sellers and money-changers in the temple, he declared that productivity culture has no business in the inner sanctuary of God. God is not about consumption or production. The inner life is a closed-loop: we are divinely resourced and divinely Allowed. We can turn our attention away from pressure to Do, and Produce, and toward the opportunity to Rest, Be, Dwell. There is nothing to prove, nothing to win, nothing to achieve, nothing to earn. All we need has been achieved for us. Cycles of sacrifice ended with Christ’s work - he completed them and we no longer need to play them out.

This theme also comes to us in the Exodus passage. The people are instructed to observe a Sabbath, to remember it, and “keep it holy.” One day out of every seven is reserved for rest and resistance to productivity culture, resistance to exhaustion, to remind them (and us) that our worth is not our work. Even resting, accomplishing nothing, producing nothing, only receiving and allowing, we are worthy, beloved, whole. 


This doesn’t mean we don’t participate in economies and systems while we are here on earth. It means we don’t identify ourselves with them. They are not us. Our work, our doing, is not us. And it means that the Inner Sanctuary is always available to us - the place of rest and peace, of acceptance and being.



God, we feel the pull of the Inner Sanctuary
We are drawn in by your love and beauty, 
Into the welcome and peace of Spirit.
The true temple, the dwelling place of God, is within us …


Lent 2, Year B 2021: Litany for Lenten Cycles

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I’m a firm believer that Lent, practiced consciously, is a guardrail against spiritual bypassing. The regular observance of seasons of austerity, lament, and penance, which we Christians get in Lent and Advent, guide us to enter into aspects of the human experience we’d rather not endure.

Other spiritual traditions have similar seasons: Jews have Yom Kippur; Muslims have Ramadan; Hindus have Navaratri; and so forth. These rhythms keep us pain-avoidant human beings honest: they take us into the shadow so that we have an opportunity to alchemize - or if you prefer a Christianese word: redeem - what we find there: the uncomfortable feelings, the limiting beliefs, patterns of harm, the losses we didn’t have time to grieve, traumas we didn’t have resources to heal before. These seasons offer us the opportunity to make meaning of the human condition and to accept it as it is, to accept ourselves as we are. In Lent we are invited to stop judging our pain and instead feel it and allow it to teach us. It is part of a cycle: we don’t stay in Lent forever. Death comes, and then Resurrection. Weeping comes in the soul’s night, then joy in the morning. We sow in tears, we reap in joy. If we never accept the rhythm of sowing in tears, we have little appreciation, much less gratitude, for joy. We know light by its contrast to darkness.

In Western culture we make very little space for weakness, pain, mourning, lament, sadness. We are taught early on that excessive feeling that doesn’t fall in the category of anger or excitement is unwelcome, and that sadness is a pathology. But the rhythms of the Christian faith tradition offer a different paradigm: one that welcomes the mourner, blesses the weak, and gives space and voice to lament. It assigns value to loneliness and suffering even as it assures us that we are never alone in suffering.

Jesus heading out to the desert wilderness for a period of solitude and austerity sets the precedent for Lenten practice. Jesus accepts all parts of human experience, entering into the full spectrum of emotion. He rejects no parts of the whole.

In week 2 of Lent, Year B, we are invited along with the disciples to “deny” ourselves, take up the instrument of our suffering, and follow him into the totality of embodied adventure, and to do this willingly, without judgement or resistance, trusting that the way out is the way through.

God, our culture teaches us to avoid pain, And to suppress emotion; But in the wisdom tradition that Christ practiced, We find space for pain, emotion, and much more.