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.


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 1, Year B, 2021: Litany for the Wilderness

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Oh! Here’s the Baptism account I was telling you about last week! Right here for us all to contemplate again. Jesus is baptized, then heads out to the desert to take care of some inner work. There aren’t but 2 sentences dedicated to Mark’s description of Jesus going to the desert. Matthew and Luke give Jesus in the desert more airtime, noting that he fasted and prayed in the desert, but Mark only stresses the point that he was tempted by Satan and cared for by angels. John (the non-synoptic one) doesn’t mention any of this at all.

(Aside: So, 2 out of 4 gospels give us THE WHOLE SEASON OF LENT? I find this funny; you’d think all four gospels would need to agree in order to justify creating a *whole liturgical season.*)

The Catholic Vatican Council II identifies two central elements of the season of Lent:

  • Baptism: either recalling it or preparing to undergo it

  • Penance

In other words the spirit of the season, as they imagine it, is that it is an extended ritual of purification and preparation. Which, as I mentioned last week, all wisdom traditions (that I know of) contain. 

We wash ourselves, and then we let the desert dry us off. That arid, sandy ground; empty, nowhere for longing to hide. So dry and desperate it cracks open. 

Jesus went out to the desert wilderness; but in my experience, the desert often comes to us. And the desert is what has my attention just now. I am thinking of that solitary expanse. The harshness of it, but also the beauty. I am thinking of how resonant Jesus’ expedition there is to me just now; Mark says the “Spirit drove him” there (NRSV). I am thinking of the circumstances in my own life that drive me to someplace bleak and essential, where the only thing for me to focus on is my own longing, my own thirst. And where I must overcome the temptation to resort to *any old thing* to relieve me of the discomfort of existing there.

When the waters of my baptism have evaporated off me, I recall them with yearning. Yet. When I’m dry as dust, and I am distilled down to my essence, there comes an opportunity for new clarity. The desert can teach me why I’m on this journey anyway.

And here is our invitation: to accept the desert. To not go the long way ‘round. To experience it and feel it - the hunger and the cold and the scorching sun and the desperate thirst - and allow it to show us who we are, and to prepare us for the real work we are here to do.





God, as Christ goes out into the wilderness
To experience solitude
To refrain from distraction,
To be tempted to escape discomfort;
So we find ourselves, at times, in a similar place:
Whether we chose to go there or not….


Epiphany (Year B): Litany for Sages

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In the past I haven’t posted a litany for the day of Epiphany. But my love for this season has grown and deepened, and I find myself praying to become like the wise men from the east who were able to perceive a far off occurrence: a new and powerful embodiment of Divine Love in the world. I want to be that attuned, that attentive. And to be part of that embodiment. 

So I offer this prayer, along with my greetings in this new year. May you be well, happy, and full of life and joy. 



Arise, shine,
For your light has come.
The glory of God has risen upon us.
Let your heart thrill and rejoice.