Advent 2021 Year C

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An Introduction to this year’s themes:

The Christian religion traditionally places an emphasis on the virtue of waiting with patience and hope and dedicates an entire month of its calendar to pursuit of that virtue. “Have patience ... wait for the Lord ... wait with hope,” the scriptures urge us. But when we witness the words of Christ in the texts, he embodies an immediacy - the kingdom of God is near! It’s within you! - that contradicts our churchy teachings on waiting and the traditional and Psalmic norms. A paradox.

Each year in Advent, I try to come to the season with fresh perspective, looking for something I haven’t seen before. But the truth is, I get bored by the same old Advent themes. Hope, peace, joy, love - every year the same. The boredom makes sense: Advent is a season created for waiting and waiting is often boring.

Like other worthy spiritual pursuits such as grief, shadow/ego work, lament, repentance; waiting is one we would mostly rather avoid. It feels pointless until it isn’t. And every year the wait feels longer. Not the wait for Christmas, psssht ... the wait for a better world, for the things Jesus spoke of to become our lived reality. And every year our griefs pile up.

This year I’m contemplating the boredom I personally feel toward a church ritual that can sometimes ring hollow … You know, what with murderers routinely getting off scot-free, climate emergency breathing down our necks, the deep grief of the pandemic and all the loss of life it has caused, ongoing hate and division that feels insurmountable, ongoing racial injustice and oppression, plus a million other deeply discouraging problems - given all this, having hope/peace/joy/love feels like a denial of reality. It feels less like subversion and more like insanity.

And I’m thinking about the grief so many of us feel, the grief road we walk daily. The stages of grief: Denial -> Anger -> Bargaining -> Depression -> Acceptance.

We who follow the Christ are invited onto a path of paradox, to live into many contradictions: contradictions between what we see and what we hope for, but also that contradiction between the tradition’s emphasis on waiting for “someday” and Christ’s insistence that someday is now; the tradition telling us we are waiting for a “savior” and Christ telling us that we are “it” alongside him (“greater things than these” he says we’ll do, and so forth).

How can we, in the same season, the same moment even, be present to both grief and joy, both longing and gratitude, both lament and hope? I don’t have any satisfying answers to this question. But I know I want to find them. I want to get better at living peacefully inside those tensions. And I want to be aware enough of the world around me to do at least some good here. With all this in my mind, I’m creating this year’s Advent series with a robust acknowledgement of these tensions and the paradoxes in which we live a life of faith. I’m facing the stages of grief* - denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, and depression, culminating in acceptance - head on; right alongside the traditional virtues celebrated each week during Advent: hope, peace, joy, and love, culminating in what we perceive as the Gift - God With Us.

I’m using this framework in part to state the obvious: life is a mixed bag. And in part to offer a prayerful start to doing the hard work of keeping faith in the midst of the messy mixed bag, the tension of which takes some emotional maturity to keep company with.

If this is more complexity than you bargained for (lol), no worries; go check out my litanies from 2018, where I take a more simple approach.

Advent 1 (Year B, 2021): Denial and Hope

A note on denial

No stage of the grief process is bad. Each serves its purpose. In the context of grief, Dr. Ross and Dr. Kessler note that the denial stage serves as a necessary survival strategy in the midst of shock and loss, allowing the person’s body and mind time to catch up with the new reality.

I think this also applies to our denial of problems in life - sometimes we need a little time to wrap our heads around things. But trouble starts when we stay in denial and numb ourselves to pain and decline to do anything to help. Trouble also starts when we allow pie-in-the-sky religious hope to insulate us from reality, which I judge to be bad/unhelpful behavior and I think we are reaping the rewards of that now in many areas, as anyone who is paying attention to the problems plaguing the US Church of late can observe. I suspect you Canadian and overseas friends can attest as well.

All that said, here is my litany for week 1 of Advent 2021. It feels like now is not the time for platitudes; so I’m going right in here.


God, we find ourselves with the challenge of living hopefully in a world full of pain.
We have seen how religious hope can become a toxic thing
That numbs us to reality,
Suppresses expressions of grief,
And declines to do anything to create change.
This denial is not what we want to practice …

An Interfaith Litany for Trans Day of Remembrance

The Human Rights Campaign reports that 2021 has been the most deadly year on record so far for our Transgender siblings in the USA. This year 45 Transgender people have been murdered as a result of anti-trans violence. November 13-19 is Trans Awareness week, and November 20 will mark the 22nd annual Transgender Day of Remembrance. Read about Transgender Day of Remembrance here. 

I have written this litany for interfaith gatherings happening this week. And my particular hope is that Christians will wake up to the plight of our Trans siblings, made in the image of God, and lend their collective weight to the effort of creating a safe world for them. 

Also, I write this prayer to be read aloud among gatherings of people, most of whom I assume will not be trans. Where noted, please us alternative “we/our” pronouns in place of “they/their” if that makes more sense for your group. I could not figure a way to pray for and about my trans siblings without it feeling at least somewhat “othering” toward them - toward you my beloved human family. It is not my intention to other, but to embrace. If I have misstepped in any of the language in this prayer, I sincerely ask for correction. 

It is with great joy that we celebrate our transgender siblings (1), 
And great grief that we mourn the violence done to them.
We give thanks for each of our trans kindred 
Who embody the uncategorizable and boundary-defining nature of the Divine. 
Like all of humanity, they* too are made in the Divine image, 
Reflecting the Divine imprint. 

We remember our trans siblings who have been lost to violence, 
Unjustly sacrificed on the altar of society’s hatred and intolerance. 
[We confess our society’s indifference and un-love, 
And our own complicity in allowing these tragedies to continue. 
We ask that forgiveness and justice bear fruit in us. 
We are sorry. ] (1)
We honor them and send love to their spirits,
With prayers for their peace and well-being.

We set the intention to do better:
Provide safety and care, 
Nourishment and acceptance, 
To the most unique and vulnerable among us, 
And to normalize their* place in our communities, 
Cherishing the ways they* teach us (2) about goodness and love. 

We ask for wisdom in going about creating a world 
That is safe and welcoming for humans of all kinds, 
Knowing that when the world is safe for trans people, 
It is safer for all of Earth’s children. 

We ask that the minds and hearts of all people on Earth
Will be open to practicing kindness, hospitality, friendship, and love
Toward those among us who bear the Divine image in uncommon or surprising ways;
And that our governments and systems will work for their protection, 
Undoing patterns of oppression and violence,
Fostering liberation and joy for every human being. 

May our transgender family be safe, healed, provisioned, and happy, 
Sharing in the abundance of Earth,
The blessings of nature, joy, community, and freedom, 
And the blessing of home. 

May it be so. 

*Exchange they/their pronouns for we/our pronouns if the group praying the prayer is made up of primarily Trans people.
1) Exchange “our transgender siblings” for “our community” if the group praying the prayer is made up of primarily Trans people.
2)Omit the bracketed section if the group praying the prayer is made up of primarily Trans people.
3) Exchange us for “the world” if the group praying the prayer is made up of primarily Trans people.








Proper 28 (Year B, 2021): Litany for Faith in Spite of Chaos

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See also: “Litany for You’re Enough a.k.a. Litany for Hannah” from 2018 for Proper 28 of Ordinary Time. 

This week’s texts come with a strong sense of the temporality of our time here on the earth. The passage from Daniel 12 has an apocalyptic feel, and Christ’s words in Mark 13 have been fodder for many an end-times enthusiast and fear-monger. 

But when I read the Psalm…

“I keep the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices; my body also rests secure. For you do not give me up to Sheol, or let your faithful one see the Pit. You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

...I feel the answering steadfastness of the Divine. 

We may hear of wars and rumors of even more wars, we may be afraid that our society is crumbling before our eyes, we may be staring catastrophic climate emergency in the face. I hear Jesus’ frank admission, with an accompanying shrug and an incline of the head, that we are going to encounter a lot of chaos here. But we who share in the Divine Image and Presence (all of us who are willing and awake to it) “rest secure.” We don’t need to be ok to be ok. We are still ok, still safe, still cared-for, even when the world is burning down. There is nowhere else to go but the love of God. 

The writer of Hebrews invites us to “consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds.” And these passages provoke me to greater faith and commitment to doing those good deeds. 

God, when the world is burning down, 
When we are reaping the rewards of avarice and injustice,
When we are beset by calamity,
When we are at odds with our neighbors,
When our society’s obsessions and prejudices are revealed
When nature and history are rebuking us…


Proper 27 (Year B 2021): Litany for Provision

I have been reading Robin Wall Kimmerer’s _Braiding Sweetgrass_. In it, Kimmerer discusses an Indigenous understanding of property, in which it is understood that food and provisions are meant to be shared, sacred sweetgrass cannot be purchased - only given freely; and gifts are meant to be passed on. 

So I’m interested to notice the themes of food and provision in this week’s Lectionary texts. The story of Ruth and Naomi finding provision at the feet of Boaz. The tale of Elijah miraculously aiding a widow and her child with a never-empty jar of grain. And Jesus’ observations of another widow woman offering pennies from her poverty. 

The Psalms for the week remind us of God’s centrality as Source, as ground-of-being, as the divine force from which all life springs and within which all life is held. 

We get a whiff here of the Divine economy. What is needed is freely given. There is no merit-based or capitalistic drive. God lets rain and sun shine on both the evil and the good. And nature exists in this divinely interconnected communality. No one must earn either bread or salvation (healing, wholeness). 

It makes me wonder how much Western civilization has gotten wrong in letting capitalism run amok and divesting itself from nature (hint: a lot); and what practices we might take up to help us, collectively, return home, to God, to our Source. Here I’m starting with gratitude, as I find it to be generally helpful and centering as a practice. 



God, we know we are inextricably connected to the Earth. 
From the bounty of nature pour forth life and nourishment (1): 
The waters and the soils, 
The plants and creatures - 
All part of your artistry, 
Relying on divine economy.


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 24 (Year B 2021): Litany for Power in Service

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See also “Litany for the Greatness of God” which I wrote for these texts in 2018.

This year my attention is pulled in a different direction by these selections, specifically to Jesus’ words in Mark 10, “"You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.

It’s a challenging, radical, upside down way to understand and embody power. It’s one of the colest things, in my opinion, that Jesus says. And one of the most defining characteristics of power as he demonstrates and lives it out. His kind of power comes alongside, stands rooted firmly in the ground rather than upon the backs of other people. This power leads by serving, demonstrates care and love by action and example. It is not militaristic, hyperbolic, nor imperial. It’s expansive rather than towering; winsome rather than manipulative; inviting rather than commanding.

And it comes with a healthy dose of ego-emptying.

The way Jesus imagines authority, leadership, and power, and then lives them out in the stories is honestly why I bother thinking about Jesus at all. This way is so compelling and countercultural; and it looks nothing like displays of political, governmental, and organizational power that I see happening in the world. It relieves me to know that such a way exists and finds resonance in so many spiritual traditions.

And it isn’t lost on me that the First Testament texts start off by extolling God - how high, how mighty, how solely responsible for all of creation, how far above. And then Jesus in the Gospel saying how true power comes from below, from servanthood rather than lordship. It’s a pretty stark shift in perspective, inviting us to hold two seemingly paradoxical truths in tension. Pretty juicy.


God, we have ideas about power.
Our culture teaches us that power comes from military might,
From how much wealth and resources we own,
From the number of people whose lives we control,
From what deals we make and how productive we are,
From our big guns and our big egos…

Proper 23 (Year B 2021): Litany for Simple Teachings

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I like how Job, in this week’s text, longs for darkness. He says, “ If only I could vanish in darkness, and thick darkness would cover my face!” (Job 23:17). As though the covering of darkness would be a balm, a peaceful comfort.

I have been known to retreat to the comfort of a dark room, when I have felt overwhelmed or overstimulated, when the work and the world become too much. I take solace in that Christ sympathizes with my weakness (Hebrews 4:15), and is approving of my rest. I take solace in these expressions of despair from characters in the texts; they are like me, limited in energy and understanding, in need of restoration.

Like every person who has ever lived, I am tempted to make too much of worldly possessions, of societal status, of achievements, of reputation. And thank goodness for the liberating example of Christ, who points me again and again, back to my true priorities: the thriving of my own soul, the being of help to the needy, the being present to the world’s beauty as well as its pain.

In a complex and overwhelming life, we are invited back to simplicity.


God, this life has never been simple.
We humans are complex creatures,
Capable of great suffering
And great love…

Proper 22 (Year B 2021): Litany for Inheriting All Things

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I took a few days off this week . Then this morning was reminded of the hymn _How Can I Keep From Singing_. Here are the traditional lyrics (although Audrey Assad has a lovely expanded version). But this stanza catches me: 

The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
a fountain ever springing!
All things are mine since I am his!
How can I keep from singing? 

These lyrics were already in my mind as I approached this week’s texts, and I see their echo and resonance in them. Particular places stand out in light of this idea:

  • Job in great suffering saying, “Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?" (Job 2:10). 

  • The Psalmist “singing aloud a song of thanksgiving, and telling all your wondrous deeds” (Psalm 26:7).

  • The Psalmic prayer: “You have given them dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet…” (Psalm 8:6).

  • Christ, “whom GOD appointed heir of all things, through whom GOD also created the worlds” (Hebrews 1:2).

  • Christ’s words: “it is to such as these [little children] that the kingdom of God belongs” (Mark 10:14).

All things are mine since I am in Christ. All things are mine since I am part of God’s divine whole, my “true self, hidden with Christ in God.” All things are mine, since Christ is heir of all things and so, therefore am I.  All things are mine because I am the little child to whom the kingdom belongs. 

I am more and more convinced that the lesson here is to learn to live as though this is true. If I, as a person who claims follower-ship (followship, ha!) of Christ, believe this, then I cease to live in scarcity. I adopt a reality of Kin-dom abundance. And I, with even my small weight, shift the balance of power in the world by way of this non-grasping, generous, fulfilled posture. 


God, How can we keep from singing?
How can we keep our voices from echoing gratitude and wonder,
Or our hands from creating beauty and art,
Once we have come awake to your goodness; 
Which encompasses all things, 
Folding us in amongst the bounty of Christ’s riches …

Proper 21 (Year B 2021): Litany for Getting Real

This week’s texts are *gritty* - we get two heavy hitter First testament stories: Queen Esther going to bat for her people against evil Haman and winning like a boss. And Moses having an emotional breakdown because he just.can’t.handle.these complainy-pants people anymore. 

Then in the Gospel reading, we get Jesus laying down some real talk to John, et al. He says (using some striking metaphors involving intentional amputation of troublesome body parts) get rid of your ego. It’s holding you back and keeping you mired in suffering - in “hell” as the text puts it.  

Seriously, Jesus is not pulling any punches here: you’re better off drowning yourself than letting your gate-keepy ego create all these hierarchies and cliques (Mark 9:42). It’s enough to make a reader sweat. Harsh. 

Now, I don’t *actually* think that Jesus wants anyone to hack off their foot or gouge out their eye. I tend to think he’s using a rhetorical device, which is something most humans I know do fairly frequently. I also hear the humor in it. Like, dude, go ahead and maim yourself before you decide to create more hell on earth. 

Regardless of how you read it, it’s a pretty stark warning. Get rid of that which holds you back from life everlasting, and also harms others. And that which holds you back is usually your attachment to ego and hierarchy. Jesus is getting real. 

And Queen Esther is getting real, risking everything to save the literal necks of her marginalized community/family (Esther 7:2). It’s life or death and she is using every tool she has.

Moses is also getting real, admitting his exhaustion and consternation with the Hebrew people to God - he says he’d rather die than go on alone, as sole leader of a fractious and difficult group of people. Moses is STRESSED. And, in the story, God gives him an out, deciding to share the load of leadership with some 70 other elders (Numbers 11:25). 

I wonder what we need to get real about in our communities. I wonder if we might use these stories to inspire us to deeper authenticity and wholeness, honesty and humility. Here’s a prayerful place to start:


God, we are getting real with you:
Admitting our weaknesses, 
Our needs, 
Our discouragements, 
Our problems, 
Our exhaustion. …


Proper 20 (Year B 2021): Litany for Virtuous Living

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I wrote LITANY FOR AN EMPOWERED WOMAN for proper 20 of Year B in 2018. You can still find it here. 

This year I’m focusing on another theme present in the Lectionary texts, that of virtue. In this prayer, I’m taking all the virtues traditionally reserved for the “Proverbs 31 woman” and applying them to everyone. Which seems to me to be resonant with the overall message of the text, no exclusions or gender double-standards apply. 

The scriptures for this week offer us a blatant pathway to the good life: “happy are those…” it says. James wants his audience to “Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.” (James 3:13). And the Wisdom of Solomon text offers a contrasting example of a life of wickedness and injustice. 

In the gospel reading, Jesus gently rebukes the disciples for their ego-centered one-upmanship. He pulls them toward a more humble, heart-centered way: "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all."

So, without shame or apology, we admit that we want that good good life. That drawn-near-to-God life. That happy and delightful life. So we embrace these virtues as part of our true, God-imaged nature. 


God, we notice the virtues extolled in the sacred texts:
Wisdom (1), 
Kindness (1)
Generosity (2), 
Diligence (3)
Strength (4)...

Proper 19 (Year B, 2021): Litany for Welcoming Wisdom

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This week’s Lectionary texts introduce us to the aspect of God personified as Lady Wisdom: a bold, loud, generous feminine figure who offers her counsel to whomever will accept it, and her presence to whomever gives her hospitality.

Perhaps this will resonate with you: as I navigate the endlessly complex issues and problems of the day - pandemic response, racial reckoning and dismantling white supremacy, smashing the patriarchy, the current abortion uproar in Texas, pastoring people who are restructuring their faith paradigms, figuring out how to do good work without burning out, and so many other daily and far-reaching complexities - I NEED Mama Wisdom. I need her with me.

So I set my inner table as hospitably as ever I can. And I invite her in, intending never to refuse her counsel.


God, awaken our spiritual ears
To learn as people who are good at being taught, (1)
As people who are comfortable with admitting when we’re wrong,
As people who can confront our own biases,
As people capable of sitting with paradox,
As people who understand nuance….

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 17 (Year B, 2021): Litany for True Religion

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In addition to this new litany below, I’d like to point you toward my Litany for the Heart, which I wrote for Proper 17 of Year B in 2018, and still like a lot.

In this week’s Lectionary scriptures there is a distinct theme: DEFILEMENT. James is translated as using words like “sordidness” and “rank growth of wickedness,” along with an exhortation for “keep yourself unstained by the world.”

Mark tells a story of some Pharisees criticizing followers of Jesus for eating with “defiled” (unwashed) hands, which prompts Jesus to reflect on what *actually* might cause a person to be defiled or otherwise considered unclean.

James (according to translators) and Jesus (according to Mark, according to translators) don’t seem to agree on the particulars: James says that true religion is to care for orphans and widows (that would have been the poor and marginalized of his time and place) and stresses the importance of “keep[ing] oneself unstained by the world” (James 1:27). But Jesus says there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile." Holy Moses! A contradiction!

Regardless of what we do with this seeming contradiction, I can accept James’ advice to be a “doer” not just a “hearer” of good news, and to turn my religion from abstract thought to concrete action (like, say, wearing a mask in a global pandemic). And I can accept Jesus’ counsel to give attention to my heart, my inner being, so that what comes out of me - what I DO - is good and just. True religion.


God, in this challenging and overwhelming time on earth,
We know that we must tend ourselves and our resources well.
We don’t want to get bogged down in frivolous disputes
Or distracted by what isn’t ours to manage.

Litany for Afghanistan

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This is a prayer for Afghanistan as that nation is in the midst of great turmoil and fear, in light of the US withdrawal after 20 years of occupation and war, and the return of the rule of the Taliban.

God, we remember to you those suffering in Afghanistan:
Non-combatants in fear for their lives and livelihoods, 
Women and girls historically abused and oppressed by the Taliban, 
Troops and workers watching the dissolution of decades of work, 
Soldiers mourning lost comrades, 
All who have worked and hoped for a better future for Afghanistan. 

We don’t claim to understand everything about what’s happening there,
But we know pain and chaos when we see it. 
The people of Afghanistan are our family; 
When they hurt, we hurt. 

God, bring peace and comfort to the Afghan people. 
Let the land no longer be a place of war and conflict. 
Bring just government and leaders who are fair and upright. 
Let inequality and oppression be relics of the past. 
Upend the cause of the unjust and destroy the plans of the wicked.
Restore the nation of Afghanistan to its truest beauty, it’s sacred home.

Forgive us for ways we, our government, our military, have been complicit in the chaos there.
Guide our government and military authorities in the path of insight (1).
May they learn to wield power in ways that help and not harm, 
To prevent war rather than perpetuate it, 
To know when to intervene on behalf of the vulnerable,
And when to mind their own business. 

We pray, here and abroad, for people and governments
That act justly and love mercy, 
That work persistently for the good of all, 
That protect and serve the vulnerable,
That uplift the oppressed,
That root out injustice. 

May God’s good community, your Kin-dom family,
Come on earth as it is in heaven. 

Amen

1) Proverbs 9:6


Proper 16 (Year B, 2021): Litany for Home

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In the First Testament reading from 1 Kings, Solomon oversees a particularly sacred and solemn moment: bringing the ark of the covenant, Israel’s sacred symbol of the presence of God, into the newly built temple in Jerusalem. A cloud fills the temple when the ark is set in its place in the “Holy of Holies,” adding to the effect. And Solomon prays a heartfelt prayer for the presence and blessing of God to be with Israel. It is Israel’s effort to bring God home.

In the midst of this, Solomon generously prays that non-Israelite “foreigners” might know the blessing of God when they “pray toward this house.”

Of course, we know that God cannot be housed in one place. It’s only a symbol, a grand gesture, as is any sacred site or holy place. In his speech Solomon himself even admits this: “Even heavens and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built!” And the rest of the texts support this theme: “Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O LORD of hosts, my King and my God.” Psalm 84.

This summer has been chaotic and multi-transitional for my family; we have spent these last months housed, but not at Home. And I’ve had to learn and re-learn a classic spiritual lesson: home is within.

The Divine is not housed in sticks and bricks. The Ground of Being does not rest on any earthly foundation. Like the Ark of the Covenant carried with poles, like a snail with a shell on its back, I carry Home within myself. To “abide in Christ” (John 6:56) is to abide everywhere, and nowhere, and in the secret place of soul.


God, we lift to you all of us who are, or who feel, homeless:
Spiritually homeless,
Politically homeless,
Cast out from families or communities,
Refugees forced from homes,
And those who are in need of physical housing.*….

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….


Proper 14 (Year B 2021): Litany for Re-Training Ourselves

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In the First Testament readings, we glimpse Elijah and David in unique moments of deep grief. David weeps for the loss of his son Absalom. Elijah is in despair, such that he longs for death, and running for his life into the wilderness, where receives miraculous provision: bread.

In this week’s gospel text from John 6, Jesus continues his thoughts on being bread. I’m particularly struck (again) by him saying: “whoever believes has eternal life.” It’s so radical! It’s not “whoever behaves.” It’s not “whoever gives assent to this list of theological doctrines.” It’s whoever believes. In other words, whoever is willing to assume the consciousness of eternal life, eternity, the eternal NOW… whoever is convinced that God’s Community (Kingdom, Kin-dom) is right now. Whoever can perceive their own self in light of Love. Whoever knows in their bones that they have, they ARE, the bread!

The whole gamut of human emotions is present in this week’s texts, and here is Jesus saying (my paraphrase, obviously): Don’t complain. I’m the living bread and so are you. Be satisfied and live as though it is so. Live in this eternal satisfaction.

It's safe to say I get pretty jazzed about this. It’s safe to say my understanding of these kinds of statements made by The Christ has come a LONG way. Here is Jesus understanding his own true identity: God in flesh, the character of God made tangible here in 3D; and offering that shared identity, inheritance, belonging, to anyone willing to take it on too.

The text from Ephesians gives us a glimpse into how Paul imagines people who have taken on this consciousness might behave: truthful, able to be angry yet self-controlled, kind, tenderhearted, forgiving, focused on and magnetizing beauty rather than evil. It’s a really lovely vision of how to live that we get here from him.

What if we could re-train how we think about ourselves? What if we could learn to live as though we have access to everything that Christ has access to? I think the world would inevitably be different and better. I think we would come into spiritual power that would spill over into all aspects of our lives. We would start to live Saint Paul’s glorious and lovely description of us as “imitators of God.”


God, we want so much to be able to shift our consciousness
Into the consciousness that Christ shares:
But our beliefs about ourselves so often hold us back.
We have trouble remembering Christ in us….

Proper 13 (Year B 2021): Litany for Getting Full

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Hi friends. I’m in a particularly rough summer, dealing with some of the worst anxiety of my life and struggling to find the creative spark. It’s coming later in the week these days. I’m grateful for this weekly practice of Lectio Divina with the week’s Lectionary, and tapping into goodness that I always seem to find here, even if I’d rather post these to you on Tuesday rather than Thursday. Thanks for being here with me.

I’m noting this week’s Lectionary passages from 2 Samuel 11, Exodus 16, and John 6 most particularly today.

King David had an entire kingdom available to him, all the women and sexual pleasure he could imagine, and yet he couldn’t be satisfied; he had to steal more for himself, raping Bathsheba and murdering her husband to gain ownership of her.

The Hebrews in the Desert (Exodus 12) couldn’t get full on plain old heavenly manna. They needed more to be satisfied. More miracles were necessary to fill their bellies up.

In John 6, Jesus has just finished feeding a crowd of people a miraculous meal at which they could eat to fullness, and a little while later they are still chasing him around hoping for satisfaction. He tells them “I am the bread of life…” (John 6:35).

As my own interpretation of the sayings of Jesus has evolved, I’ve come to recognize the invitation inside of all his statements. When Jesus says, “I am the bread of life,” I interpret that to mean that I too can come to understand myself as being the bread of life; that I too can come to find satisfaction, full-bellied and abundant, with the resources innately available to me. The “true bread from heaven” is within me as well, waiting to be acknowledged and accessed.

In my own life I struggle with finding contentment, with being satisfied. Unmanaged, I tend to focus on what I regret, on the choice I didn’t make. I recognize this tendency in myself, and it’s part of why gratitude practice is so profoundly necessary for me. Appreciation for *what is* must be part of my grounding practice. It helps me remember that I *am full* and that the bread of heaven is within me.

Here is a prayer for us as we work on these skills of remembering and accessing the bread of life, as modeled by the Christ, that is already within us. Hopefully it will be good medicine for our longing. 


God, most of us go our whole lives thinking we are empty
And can only be filled by something outside of us.
We search outside of ourselves, inattentive to the Divine within,
Looking to meet our needs by inferior means;
Only to find ourselves thirsty again,
Hungry for the next junk meal.

Proper 12 (Year B): Litany for Everything We Need

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I love Paul’s poetic language in this week’s epistle from Ephesians 3. These phrases live in my head:
...Rooted and grounded in love...
...Strengthened in your inner being...
...Love of Christ that surpasses knowledge...
...Riches of God’s glory...
...Abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine…

What a blessing, drawing on the abundance of Spirit! The Psalm repeats the theme: The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food in due season… satisfying the desire of every living thing. The message: all is provided. Nothing is scarce. Abundance is our birthright.

The theme is again reinforced in the stories of Jesus feeding the five thousand, and of Elisha feeding a hundred people with a few loaves of bread. They provide something from near-to-nothing. What’s necessary is brought forth by their connection to Spirit.

I think a lot about how we might re-connect ourselves to the abundance of Spirit at this level. How we might steward our attention, so that abundance is the ground from which we live. Even inside of experiences that seem to prove scarcity, and in light of lived experiences that may have caused us trauma.

This is a prayer to that end.

God, we are learning not to be distracted by scarcity,
And led by it into fear and worry
Into anxiety and defensiveness;
Ultimately into conflict with ourselves and others…

Proper 11 (Year B): Litany for Catching a Break

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My family and I have been in the process of moving houses this summer - not once, but twice. First to a temporary house, then to a permanent one later. Moving can be relentless, exhausting, ungrounding. You sometimes feel like you can’t catch a break: there is always more to do, more problems to solve, more children to comfort (in my case), more lost things to find. For me it’s the capstone to a relentless and exhausting season that started with Covid in March of 2020. So I’m late with the litany this week. Sorry.

And I’m taking some comfort in this week’s Gospel reading. Jesus notices the exhaustion felt by himself and the apostles. “He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.” So they all sail away in a boat to try to catch a break. And even then, they can’t. People - beloved people with real and profound needs both spiritual and physical - follow them (Mark 6: 55,56).

“[W]herever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.” If Jesus needs a break, in his humanity and therefore limited physical energy, he has to WORK for it - carve it out, prioritize it, make it happen. At least, as I imagine. I’m so grateful for the solidarity here in this text. For the exhausted and run-down. The weary and overdrawn. The ones who are trying to pour from the dregs of a cup. For me and you. Jesus meets us here, where we’re just trying to catch a break.

God, the pace of our lives is sometimes faster than we can keep;
The needs of those around us are sometimes more than we can handle;
The work before us sometimes seems unending;
And the chaos around us is sometimes overwhelming.
We long to pause, to rest.
We thirst for renewal….