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

October 22, 2021 Fran Pratt

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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...

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

October 14, 2021 Fran Pratt

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…

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

October 6, 2021 Fran Pratt

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…

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

September 30, 2021 Fran Pratt

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 …

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Litany for the Greatness of God (Year B, Proper 24)

October 15, 2018 Fran Pratt

This week’s Lectionary includes the passage from Job in which God sits Job down and sets him straight about who’s Who in the universe. Then the Mark 10 passage, Jesus sits his disciples down and sets them straight about the nature of Greatness. Taken together, the passages are an invitation to return to wonder and humility and trust; to refrain from centering ourselves in the narrative, and start looking both outside ourselves, and deep within.*

God, so often we are hunkered down, focused on our responsibilities,
Our eyes on our small screens,
Our awareness on our troubles or our achievements;
That we forget about your greatness and beauty.

We forget to look at stars and clouds.
We forget to partake of silence and solitude.
We forget to listen to wind and whisper.
We let our attention wander away from you.

Remind us, oh God, in our daily bread and practice,
That you are the author of all things,
That you made love the building blocks of the universe,
That your kindness caused heaven and nature to exist.

Remind us, oh God, that we are both your handiwork and your Beloved,
That we are connected to all of creation,
That we are temples in which you dwell (1);
And yet you dwell in unapproachable light (2).

And when we get too busy trying to know you with our rational minds
Trying to think thoughts about you;
Bring us back to infinite enfolding love,
Which can only be experienced, felt, and surrendered to

Help us to return to wonder,
And turn our fear to love;
For you are clothed with honor and majesty,
Wrapped in light as with a garment (3).
You inspire wonder and trust.
All beauty has its origin in you.

Amen

1 Corinthians 3:16
1 Timothy 6:16
Psalm 104:1,2

*I was especially encouraged by last week’s meditations from the Center for Action and Contemplation. The God Particle particularly made my eyes leaky.