An Advent Prayer

 What does it mean to hope, Dear God?  

When so much of what we see is broken and bruised?

 

When the light dims and the name calling begins?  

When what we found is lost again, 

and those whom we trusted betray?

 

What does it mean to hope, Dear God? 

When our world is crying for its children?  

When the voiceless are shut away and ignored?

 

God your timing brings us again into this season.  

A season where we proclaim hope.  

 

We don’t really understand.

But maybe we don’t have to all the time.

So we do what we can as we wait…

 

We light a candle.  We sing your song.  

We try with every fiber of our being to find the Christ in every face.

 

We hold a hand. We share a hug.  We quiet our hearts and listen.  

We extend a welcome.  We feed a stranger.  We live into the world we hope for.

 

And in doing so, perhaps we will find

the hope we need. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday of Holy Week

The Gospel of Mark is silent on this day.  He says nothing about the sabbath day.  Jesus is dead.  Buried in the pit of a tomb.  In one aspect, what is there to say?  What words would be appropriate for such a deep sadness and loss of hope? 

In some Christian traditions, Saturday is the day where Jesus descends into the depths of hell to lead out those within.  It is a beautiful image that reminds us that no matter how far we are from God, whether by choice or not, God wants no part of our separation.  God wants to be near to us.

For those of us who don’t know what to do on Holy Saturday, perhaps we can light a candle.  Say a prayer.  Mourn for those who have lost loved ones.  Mourn for the losses we have faced.  Mourn for the hopelessness of what this day means.  There are times in our lives when God feels as good as dead.  Today is one of those days.  Though we know that God is merely working on yet another miracle of life, on Holy Saturday, we are unaware of the blessings to come.  And that is okay.  We don’t always have to know what God is up to…but we do know that God is always up to something.  And that something is good…it is for us all…it is full of life.  

 

Let us shed our tears and pray:

 

O God

On this Holy Saturday,

We don’t know what to do.

We don’t know what to say.

We have lost our footing and we can’t find a place to land our deepest yearnings and hopes.

Our Lord is gone.

The sting of death still hurts.

 

So we humbly ask

That you sit with us.

Carry us through our tears and our fears.

Hold us in the silence of the pain

When it becomes too loud to bear.

 

May we light a candle to hope 

In the hopelessness

That death brings.

It stings.

It hurts.

It is suffocating.

 

But we know,

Because of who He was

That you’ve got us.

 

You’ve got us.

 

Amen.

Friday of Holy Week

Read Mark's account of the death of Jesus in Mark 15: 1-47.

“He who hung the earth upon the waters; today he is hung upon the cross.” 

The Book of Common Prayer

 

Michael woke me up last and said he had a bad dream.  As I laid back down with him in his bed I told him that everything was okay, it was just a dream.  “Yea,” he said, “but still….” 

 

That little phrase has rung in my ears all morning.  “But still…”  It makes perfect sense.  No matter what I say, the bad dream still happened. It still scared him.  It still made him search for safety and comfort.  It still disrupted his night.  

 

Jesus died on this day so many years ago.  None of us were there and all we can do is read the gruesome details in scripture or watch a movie interpretation.  Perhaps the further we place ourselves from the realities of that day, the less it will have to have an impact on us…our lives…our choices…our world.  But still…

 

Still it mattered.  It matters like every single unwarranted death matters today.  It matters every time we see a wrongful act being done, or worse yet, participate in it.  It matters if we are going to claim to be Christians and followers of Jesus.  (Or, as Mark’s Gospel would put it, ‘followers of the way’….)  Jesus died to wake us up.  He died to show us how our sins and the injustices of the world matter.  But still…..

 

In his own way, my four-year old reminded me that I can’t take away the hard stuff with just a few words.  Still the bad thing happened.  And it would do us well to sit with it for a while; to wonder what it means for us.  It would do us well to recognize our role in the pain that Jesus’ death represents still today.  As followers of the way, there are things we can do to remember his death and to allow it to help us claim life everlasting for all the places and people in the world who need to hear it.  Who needs you to sit with them today? Who needs you to enter with them into their pain and turmoil?  Who needs you to stand up with them?

 

It probably seemed like a horrible, awful, no good, bad dream.  But still…it was real.  It happened.  May God sit with us today as we remember and pray and promise to never forget.  

 

Let us pray: 

 

In the darkness of this day

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the pain of your death,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the loss of trust,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the abandoned friendships,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the wrongdoings of humanity,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the fear of being caught,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

 

The pain of this day causes us to fall to our knees

But still you offer grace.  

You touch us with forgiveness.

And we are healed.

 

We pray, Lord Jesus

For those who live a Good Friday

Every day of their lives.

You died so that the world would be saved.

Save us from ourselves.

Amen.

Thursday of Holy Week

 To enter into the drama of this day, read Mark 14: 22-72.

What would it have been like to be there?  To sit at the table when Jesus took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them.  How would it feel to receive this bread and know, in the pit of your stomach, that something big was going to happen?  And then the cup.  Would the wine make your lips twinge as you took a sip?  How slowly would you let it linger on your tongue, because you knew that once you swallowed, nothing would ever be the same?

Would you have debated Jesus when he said that you would desert him?  That you would flee?  Would you argue with him and promise, like Peter, that you would never leave his side?  

And the prayer.  The bold and heartbreaking words Jesus prayed.  All the while - would you be sleeping? 

 

When the soldiers finally come, the night wakes up.  And you watch as Jesus is kissed by his old friend.  His arrest is swift and physical, accompanied by swords and clubs as though he was a bandit.

 

Perhaps the next place you find yourself is warming your hands by the fire in the courtyard.  You overhear Peter claim his innocence.  You stand there and shake your head as he drops to his knees and weeps bitterly.  The cock crows.  The accusers look at you.  You dart your eyes away and pretend you never heard a thing.

 

Let us pray:

God on this day before the day of your death,

We crawl to you and offer what we know we 

Wouldn’t have been able to give

Had we been by your side all those years ago.

 

We cannot claim to be better than those who knew you best.

We fall to our knees and ask that you make us into who you need us to be.

For this night.

For the sake of whatever goodness is left in this world.

For the sake of all the peacemakers who feel the cold sting of handcuffs

When their only weapon is words of justice.

 

Do not let us fall asleep again.  

Keep us awake to stand by your side

As we claim to be yours.

Amen.

Wednesday of Holy Week

To have an idea of the happenings on the Wednesday before Jesus' death, read Mark 14: 1-11. 

It is Wednesday.  The plot thickens.  The religious leaders, afraid of the large crowd that supported Jesus, are looking for a way to arrest him.  They need to a traitor to emerge so that they can find and arrest Jesus away from the crowds, without their knowing.  

 

In the meantime, Jesus gathers with his disciples in Bethany, at the house of Simon the leper, where is he anointed with expensive oil by an unnamed woman.  She is scolded by the others for wasting money that could have been given to the poor.  Jesus stands by her and claims her act is one of love, for he will not be with them much longer.  Furthermore, he tells them that she has prepared his body for burial.  If we read closely, we will see that she poured the oil over his head, in the same manner that kings were anointed in those days.  Jesus says to them, “Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” 

 

I find it interesting and unfortunate that this woman’s story is not as well-known in our faith sharing as Jesus asks it to be.  In other Gospels, we find the woman to be Mary, the sister of Martha; another consideration is that the woman was Mary Magdelene.  For whatever reason, Mark (the earliest written Gospel) does not name her.  I think this fact helps us to consider the people who are unnamed in the important, world changing stories of our past.  It opens our perspective to look beyond the familiar and into the unknown people and groups who helped to prepare for a great change, or who participated themselves in the larger story of saving acts and heroic deeds.  

 

It takes not only the forerunners but also the people who live behind the scenes to make the world turn in extravagant love, grace, and kindness. 

 

May we remember today the unnamed woman who showed that kind of love to our Lord on the Wednesday before his death.

 

As the day ends, Judas – one of the twelve - makes his way to the religious authorities to betray Jesus.

 

Let us pray:

Lord.  Have mercy on us.

The week is beginning to boil and soon an eruption will occur.

We know what is coming. 

This is where your story heats up.

We wish we could change things here.  We wish we could get ahold of Judas and stop him.

But then we remember, he was not the only one to betray you.

Too often….so do we.

And yet, you keep us in the fold and call us to remember and to commit

Acts of extravagant love.

For you.  For those around us.

For the sick and suffering and dying.

Prepare us, Lord, to meet the coming days with courage.

Forgive us when we want to turn back.  

Don’t let us betray you again. 

Have mercy on us, Lord. And help us to see you through this day.

Amen. 

Tuesday of Holy Week

To know what Jesus did on the Tuesday before his death, read Mark 11:20 through Mark 13:37.

Holy Tuesday

Things seem to get a little tricky, a little twisty on Tuesday, as our Lord teaches and is tested in the Temple.

 

“What about taxes to Caesar – should we pay them?”

“What about the woman with seven husbands, whose wife shall she be in the resurrection?”

“Which commandment is greatest of all?”

 

Jesus does not hesitate with his answers.  And, if we notice, his answers are ones that open up God’s realm by widening the door, lengthening the table, and stretching the circle of the Kingdom.

 

“Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.”

“Life in the resurrection will be so different than life on earth, for God is a God, not of the dead, but of the living.”

“Hear O Israel, the Lord is God; love the Lord with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength…and your neighbor as yourself.”

 

To trap someone is to limit them, to place their footing in the middle of a rock and a hard place.  Jesus wiggles his way through these tests by opening up another way, offering a new perspective, challenging the status quo and removing the rock that keeps us stuck.

 

On this Tuesday of Holy Week, where do we find ourselves stuck?  The day is long and the hardest part of the week looms ahead.  We might be losing our footing and feeling faint; we might be exhausted with all that Jesus has to say.  Jesus’ teachings are meant to alleviate the oppressed and challenge the privileged.  How do Jesus’ teachings disrupt our lives and our business as usual?  For a week that is already hard enough (and living in times such as these), Jesus doesn’t let up on us when he goes to the Temple on Tuesday.  It’s like a workout instructor who shortens the recovery for another interval.  Jesus continues to notice what we tend to look past.  And he continues to look deeply into our hearts to see our motives and why we do and say what we do.  We cannot become weary on Tuesday.  We can and must rise to the challenge of Jesus’ teachings.  We must sit with his words and listen.  

 

And, as icing on the cake, why does it matter that the widow gave to the Temple treasure all that she had to live on?  Jesus sees her.  Do we?  Or are we so busy making Easter plans that we have already forgotten the true treasures of Tuesday?  Listen.  Watch.  See.  God’s graces are all around and Jesus has something to teach us.

 

Let us pray:

 

Jesus, keep our focus upon you today.

May we keep awake to the trappings of this day.

And what you have to teach us.

Don’t let us get distracted by the drama of the week ahead.

Dictate the movement of our eyes so that we see what (who) you see.

Ready our ears so that our listening is pure and genuine.

Take our hearts and mold them like a coin that is minted, 

not with our image,

but with yours.

Amen.

Monday of Holy Week

Today is a day like any other on a week like every other.  Except it's not.  It is Monday of Holy Week.  On this week we find ourselves inching closer to the devastation of Friday, the waiting of Saturday, the new life of Easter.

If you are curious to know what Jesus did on the Monday before his death, read the Gospel of Mark chapter 11 verses 12-19.  You'll find that Jesus had a case of the Mondays....or more likely, Jesus simply had some issues with the workings of the world, which is precisely why he went through with the rest of the week. He was angry, fed up with business as usual.  He wanted his people to come face to face with their hypocrisy...that the religion they claim in the Temple was not the life they lived out on a daily basis.  Amy-Jill Levine, professor of New Testament at Vanderbilt University, puts it this way:  "The ancient Temple, and the present-day church, should be places where people not only find community, welcome the stranger, and repent of their sins. They should be places where people promise to live a godly life, and then keep their promises." 

What does it mean to live a godly life?  I think it has a lot to do with love, loving our God and loving each other.  I think it has something to do with how we treat one another and how we forgive (or not).  I think it is played out in our relationship to the created world around us and the creatures God gives to our care. I think a godly life looks like justice talking and justice living, especially alongside those who are marginalized.  I think a godly life, first and foremost, begins with prayer. 

It may sound simplistic and trite, but Jesus did storm the Temple quoting the prophet Isaiah that "My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations."  For all the nations.

And so we begin....

Let us pray:

Help us to pray on a Monday.  When the air feels crisp and cool.  When the Earth pulls out highlighters to color on the trees bright pinks, purples, and yellows.  

 

Help us to pray on a Monday.  When life goes on as usual and we find ourselves lost in the list of what to do.

 

Help us to pray on a Monday.  When we pause for a split second to wonder, I wonder what Christ did his final Monday on Earth?

 

Help us to pray on a Monday.  The cheering crowds and songs of Hosanna still ringing in our ears; the palm branches green and barely touched, not even close to becoming ash.

 

Help us to pray on a Monday.  When the fig tree isn’t yet ripe and the praying people busy themselves with anything but prayer.  

 

What would he think if he found us today?  On a Monday.  The Monday before.  

 

O Lord, help us to pray.

 

A Prayer of Trust

 Just a simple prayer of trust based on Psalm 46.

O God our refuge and strength,

We need you.

When the mountain that we have built our lives upon

Crumbles

We need you.

 

When the seas that once stretched out far and wide

Begin to foam and swirl tightly around us

We need you.

 

Life has felt like a crumbling mountain 

Under our feet.

A seasick sea foaming at the mouth.

 

But, like the Psalmist writes,

There is a river.

There is a river.

“There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.”

 

And on that river

We know that you carry us.

We see your reflection in the soft water

And we trust.

 

We trust in your goodness

We trust in the fullness of your love.

And we strive to be still and know.

Know that you are God. 

And we are not.

 

Though the mountains crumble and the sea shakes,

Though the nations fuss and fight,

You, O God, are in the dawn. 

You make all things right.

 

Amen.

Ash Wednesday Prayer

 I've been silent on here for a really long time.  I've let all the challenges of pandemic life come over me and, in some ways, I've surrendered my writing to my stresses, worries, and fears.  I am not completely proud of that fact. 

Several years ago, I challenged myself to write a prayer for every day in Lent.  And today I thought - well, why not?  I don't know how faithful I can be to this in 2021, but I am hopeful that the "dry bones" within me might wake up a bit if I but try.

As I prepare to gather virtually with my congregation for tonight's Ash Wednesday service, I can't help but reflect upon this day and past services, as Ash Wednesday is one of my favorite worship experiences.  One of the things I like the most about Ash Wednesday is the way the ashes get under my fingernails.  It reminds me that even though our Lenten journeys are often individual treks, and though our bodies are individual bodies that one day will die, we are still connected to one other. As the ash for each person I have the honor to mark leaves traces under my fingernails, I am reminded of the great body of Christ that I get to travel this road with.

This prayer is based on the dry bones story of Ezekiel, chapter 37, verses 1-3.

Yesterday bleeds into today.

Last Lent bleeds into this Lent.

And I fall to my knees.

And humbly ask, O Lord,

Help me.  Help us.

Breathe into us 

And awaken the dead places of our spirits

To sing again for Spring.

To sing again for Life.

To sing again for You.

 

May the ash under my fingernails

Leave traces upon my heart.

Amen.