Advent 3 (Year C 2021): Bargaining and Joy

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For this week’s litany I’m thinking of the texts, in which we are exhorted to BE JOYFUL! Because God is saving the day. God is rescuing, healing, restoring, setting-right. But I’m also thinking about Bargaining, the third stage of grief, as proposed by Dr Kessler and Dr. Kubler-Ross. For more on why I’m juxtaposing these two lenses on Advent, please go back and read my introduction to Advent Week 1.

In the Bargaining phase, our sorrow-stricken minds fight against reality. We cannot accept the state of things, so in our distress, the ego puffs up. It tells us that we can change this, we can fix it; it insists that this is not the way things will be and we’ll use whatever means necessary to remedy it. We bargain - possessions, behaviors, money, priorities, whatever we have at hand - in the futile hope that we can make a deal with the Powers That Be that will change their mind. Perhaps I can give up this bad habit and God will relent? Perhaps I can perform this act of service and the mind of the Universe will be changed? We try to force things to be the way we want them to be.

This is different from Denial. Denial cannot look reality in the face. Bargaining observes it and insists that it can be controlled. In the Bargaining phase, we believe we can trade something of ours for a different outcome. Advent is traditionally considered a penitential season. Our tendency toward bargaining slips in when we imagine that we might use the penitential season for our own ends.

I think we all get lost in this Bargaining phase now and again. Hopefully we pass through it sooner than later. I see whole swaths of church culture that are based in a prosperity gospel ego ponzi scheme of bargaining.

But real joy doesn’t come by force. It has no strings attached. In my experience, it comes to me by way of my awareness: I wake up to it - it was there all along. I was just too distracted to see it before. I must cultivate my awareness so that I can flow with joy.

Where bargaining forces, joy allows. Where bargaining tightens, joy releases. Where bargaining resists what is, joy looks without judgement and sees beyond. Where bargaining seeks control, joy assumes childlike trust. Spiritual teachers the world over have been saying this for millennia.

This is not to say that this, or any, phase of grief is inherently bad. It’s simply a point on the journey many of us will take. No need to try to avoid it. All we can do is notice and learn. We can offer loving awareness to that urge to strong-arm our circumstances.


God, sometimes we get caught up in illusions of control.
We think that we can force the world to bend to our will,
Or manipulate our grief away.
We hold joy at arms-length while we struggle to avoid pain.

Advent 2 (Year C, 2021): Anger and Peace

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If you missed my introduction to this Advent litany series, please go back and read the previous post.

The second stage of the grief process, as observed and synthesized by Dr. Elizabeth Kubler Ross and Dr. David Kessler, is anger. I say it’s “second” but that doesn’t mean it always appears for everyone in some perfect order. My own experience has taught me that grief is cyclical, and I often find myself returning to various phases for deeper work. And certainly moving through phases of anger has been a significant part of my own journey.

We stay in each phase as long as it takes, which is an unpredictable length of time because grief is an unruly process.

I’m leaning into contradictions and paradox. Into what sometimes feels like impossibility! Like this: in a world of anger, violence, injustice, suffering, we are continually advised by the Christ to be at peace, to create peace, and to not be fearful. How on earth? I can see how in heaven, but how on earth? Luke writes that, going along with God’s promise, “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us.”

In the meantime we have plenty to be angry about. Neither inner or societal peace are going to come about consistently without some work on our part - some training and continual embracing of the Peace of Christ, even in light of our righteous anger about unjust systems and trauma.

Advent invites us to reconcile the irreconcilable, and to learn to be comfortable with that dissonance and keep faith in spite of it. Advent offers us a peek behind the veil: what are we looking at? Now, what are we looking FOR?


God, we are challenged to live peaceably in a society filled with anger,
In which reactivity and outrage are normal,
Where most everyone is living with trauma of some kind or other,
And systemic dysfunction is all around.
We see how the dominant culture habitually covers up conflict, calling it peace,
While disregarding justice…

Proper 25 (Year B, 2021): Litany for Consolation

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Psalm 126 gets me in my feelings. “May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy,” it says. 

These ancient words can give us solace if we let them - thousands of years of humans looking at the world saying: “yep this looks bad right now, but even so, we can perceive a Divine force in the world that is good and full of love and creativity; and even though we and our fellow humans have made a bunch of bad choices, we trust that force for good.”

My foremothers and forefathers in faith trusted the Divine to console them, even in suffering and hardship - Job, Bartimaeus, and many others. And the Christ gives us a story of overcoming the worst of humanity’s bloodthirstiness, of grace and mercy amidst cruelty, and of life and compassion enduring and renewing against all odds. 

This is some of the best stuff that Christianity has to offer, in concert with its ancestor Judaism. This tenacious clinging to hope even when the world is burning or collapsing around it. This steadfast trust in a loving, Divine Source who is both within us and at work in the world. This stubborn hold on goodness. It’s good medicine for us today. May we have soft hearts to receive it. 


God, each of us in our lives have endured suffering, 
None of us immune to loss or hardship; 
Most of us are acquainted with grief. 
Pain is part of our experience here...

Proper 18 (Year B, 2021): Litany for Solidarity and Service

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This week’s Lectionary texts are quite the kick in the pants. If you were asleep to the plight of the poor, WAKE UP, it tells us. If you’re unaware of the priorities of the Divine, be enlightened.


God, so many in our world are experiencing hardship and suffering,
From poverty, from environmental destruction,
From sickness, from conflicts outside our control,
From overwhelming grief, from trauma…..

Proper 15 (Year B, 2021): Litany for Going Out and Coming In

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In this week’s reading from 1 Kings 2, Solomon speaks to God in a dream. God asks Solomon what he wants, and Solomon explains that he is (or feels like he is?) “only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in…” and asks for “an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil…” 

Scholars believe that Solomon was only 12 when he became king of Israel; a young child faced with a vast responsibility. I read that frank admission of young Solomon’s: I’m just a whippersnapper who doesn’t know hardly anything; and I feel such resonance with him. 

Especially in Covid days, when cases are increasing and ICU’s are at capacity in the area where I live. Especially when I consider that my kids are starting school in a red zone in which the local authorities have left us with virtually no ways to ensure their protection. Especially on weeks when the UN releases a devastating climate report calling it a “code red” for humanity.  Especially when the political divide is a veritable chasm of difference.

I am disheartened. And I am praying to God: I am a little child. I don’t even know how to go out or come in. I need wisdom for how to do life in a way that makes any sense in these trying days. 

So this week, in light of these scriptures and this life situation, I’m translating that prayer into something I hope will be useful congregationally. If this more raw version is not up your alley for this week, I invite you to check out Litany for Wisdom, which I wrote for Proper 15 in 2018. 


God, in this time of pandemic, 
Political extremes, 
And global unrest, 
We are overwhelmed….


Lament for Breonna

This lament is in response to the murder of Breonna Taylor by police officers in Louisville, KY on March 13, 2020. As of Wednesday, September 23, the officers who killed her have received no indictments for her wrongful death, nor any repercussions at all. Another in a long line of Black bodies killed by the state.

God, this is not the world we want to live in:
Where murderers go free,
Where the state kills innocents,
Where the political system justifies lynching,
Where the system protects the powerful and leaves the innocent to their fate. 
Where justice is not done. 

This injustice is not new. No. 
It is an old, old pattern: 
Of racism, 
Of white supremacy, 
Of power-hoarding, 
Of greed,
Of theft, 
Of ego. 

We cry out for the abolishment of unjust systems. 
We cry out for an end to police abuse of power. 
We cry out for an end to the state-sanctioned murder of innocents. 
We cry out for an end to the abuse and murder of Black lives.
We cry out for an end to political stalemate that does not legislate protections. 
We cry out for Breonna’s family and loved ones. 

We lament Breonna’s lost future here on earth. 
We lament her life cut short. 
We lament the trauma of her death. 
We lament the corrupt officers who got off without consequence. 
We lament the pain and grief of all who mourn her. 
We lament the long line of martyrs Breonna joins. 

Give us strength, oh God, to continue the work. 
Strength to be struck down but not destroyed, 
To be persecuted but not forsaken,
To be mystified but not despairing (1). 

Give ear to our voices, God, 
Hear the pleas of the righteous. 
Cast down the mighty from their thrones.
Lift up the lowly (2). 

  1. 2 Corinthians 4:8,9

  2. Luke 1:52

Lament for the 200,000

On Tuesday September 22, 2020 the United States passed the milestone of 200,000 deaths due to Covid-19. This is a lament for those we’ve lost.

God, we hold up to you these lives:
These 200,000 lost to us.
We know they are not lost - 
You hold them in your mercy and love. 

We commend to you their care. 
Heal them there,
Close to your inimitable light
And your unfailing Love. 

We grieve alongside their families and loved ones. 
They have departed, but will not be forgotten. 
For we know that death is not an end to their story, 
Only of this human chapter. 

We lament the failed leadership that did not keep them safe. 
We lament the state of a government willing to let people die needlessly. 
We lament the political system that makes it expedient to sacrifice human lives. 
We lament the lack of regard for vulnerable people. 
We lament the lack of regard for human life. 
We lament the inaction and apathy of people in political power. 

We know, despite everything, that death is always a risk,
That safety from death is an illusion;
And also, we know that we are safe in your care every moment. 
You catch us as we fall. 

Bring us now into the necessary awareness
To make change,
To create a more just world,
To care for the least powerful,
To prevent further suffering and loss of life,
To endure this season of grief,
To heal the trauma we have collectively sustained,
To comfort those overwhelmed by suffering.  

Hear the voice of our pain, oh God.
Amen

Easter 6 (Year A): Litany for The Way Through

Only 2 more Sundays in the season of Easter. Then Pentecost. Then ordinary time. In our small community here on the outskirts of the Austin Metro area, we have a family experiencing a tragic loss. This in the midst of a global pandemic and the accompanying upheaval and uncertainty. And the pandemic is overlaid atop ongoing systemic racial injustice, as we mourn the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and the countless other Black people who have been lynched in this country.

The Easter season is about resurrection while we are walking through a time of unveiling, and among families experiencing death. As it so often does, the Lectionary prompts me to reflect on the Now in light of its account and what wisdom I can glean from it. How to reconcile?

“In him we live and move and have our being,” the author of Acts quotes Paul as saying. “God has listened…[and] given heed to the words of my prayer,” says the Psalmist. “I will not leave you orphaned,” says the Christ in John 14. 

Here’s a prayer for us as we navigate this dissonance: the ever-present love of God alongside the pains, traumas, and losses we inevitably experience in this life. 


God, we are tested.
We are tried as silver is tried.
We are never guaranteed physical safety.
We know that with love comes risk of loss.

Patreon Only: Litany for Grieving

I recently sat with my grandmother in the last days of her life. My mom and I were there holding her hand as she took her last breaths. It was a profound experience that has brought me to think about all the forms grief takes, and my own experience of grieving - how unpredictable it is, how sometimes consuming, how suddenly past only to reappear again. We grieve events, losses, trauma, time passing, people passing… and I’m coming to believe that grieving is not just some mental or emotional space that we are plunged into by life events; it is also a skill we can practice and hold space for. And the only way to get through this life whole is to learn the skill. If we can’t accept pain and process it through appropriate grief, we will be constantly resisting the experience of life. Through grief, we learn to integrate experiences we (dualistically) judge to be “good” and “bad”, bringing them into wholeness. The more life I experience, the more I’m convinced that learning to hold the tension of grief is as powerful a life skill as, say, positive thinking or good communication or self-care. Here's a prayer for skill-building, available on my Patreon page.

If my work has value to you and your community, please consider becoming a supporter on Patreon, where you get access to exclusive litanies and content. This month’s Patreon-only litany is Litany for Grieving.

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 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 Grief

I am hoping this prayer will be of use to those looking for resources for expressing grief and lamentation in a congregational or small group setting; but I also hope it will be helpful to some individuals experiencing personal grief. The opening lines are taken from a song I co-wrote called "I Cannot Live Without You" published by Vineyard, which can be found here.


God of Mercy, God of Tenderness, God of Nurture, God of Love
God-Provider, God-Comforter, God-Sustainer, God-with-us:
Be with us now in our mourning, and in our sadness.

We acknowledge that the only way out of our grief is through it.
We acknowledge that we must pay attention to our emotions in order to be whole persons.
We acknowledge that we would often rather avoid our sadness than pay attention to it.
We acknowledge that grief can be sticky, unpredictable, and hard to shake off.
We acknowledge that there are some mountains we cannot move under our own power.

Over and over, You have shown us that You are good, and Your love endures forever.
We know that You lovingly show us this often, because we are apt to forget.
We know that Your goodness does not necessarily safeguard us from pain. 
We know that our pain does not negate Your goodness.

Help us to walk faithfully through our pain and sadness.
Help us to engage in lamentation, in the tradition of the saints who came before us.
Help us to remember that our anger, sadness, disappointment, and grief do not put you off.
Help us to be moving forward:
     Toward growth
     Toward wisdom
     Toward emotional health
     Toward wholeness
     Toward reconciliation between our faith and our emotions.

We are helpless, and require Christ’s assistance.
We are undone, and require re-making.
We are brokenhearted, and require healing.
We are poor in spirit, and in need of the kingdom of Heaven.

Amen



 

Lent Series: Litany for Good Friday, "Death"

Great God, we acknowledge that we are not always able to recognize Your ways as good
We confess that we are, at times, confounded;
As on Good Friday, when we commemorate the death of one so dear to us
The Savior, Christ the King.

As a seed must pass through death to sprout new life,
So Jesus Christ has passed into death.
Taking the nature of a human, a servant
He made himself nothing
He humbled himself by becoming obedient to death
Even death on a cross!

For three days, we wait with him, for death to accomplish its purpose;
For Christ’s sacrifice to be made meaningful;
For Christ to re-imagine death.
We grieve, even while we are hopeful.

We wait, and as the stones seal Christ’s body in the tomb, even then we say:
“Oh Death, Where is Your sting? O Grave, Where is your victory?”
And we acknowledge Your good way, the confounding way of obedience to death
That brings us toward Life and Hope.

Amen