Category Archives: Prayer

Look Back, Bless Forward, Sing

Readings: Psalm 126; Isaiah 19:18-25; 2 Peter 1:2-15

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.

Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses of the Negeb.

May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.

Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves. Psalm 126, NRSV

It’s a song of ascent, recited by pilgrims on the way to Jerusalem.

It’s a wistful look back to a grander time, before defeat and a forced evacuation into Babylonian captivity.

It’s a plea for a future of restored joy, a future that takes the tears of the present and grows from them a harvest of laughter.

These words sent up to God as an act of faith ring true today as much as they did over two thousand years ago. So much death has come during this pandemic, and our tears have flowed over loss and loneliness. But those tears can bear good fruit, and the maturity that adversity brings increases our capacity for joy moving forward.

Sing this psalm. Sing for all who have suffered. Sing for new life. Sing for yourself and those you love. Sing for those you don’t love, and those you don’t know.

Sing to God. Expect joy to grow.

Sing.

Hope

Readings: Psalm 126; Isaiah 40:1-11; Romans 8:22-25

Comfort, O comfort my people,
    says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and cry to her
that she has served her term,
    that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
    double for all her sins.

A voice cries out:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
    make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
    and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
    and the rough places a plain.

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
    and all people shall see it together,
    for the mouth of the Lord ha
s spoken.”

A voice says, “Cry out!”
    And I said, “What shall I cry?”
All people are grass,
    their constancy is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
    when the breath of the Lord blows upon it;
    surely the people are grass
.

The grass withers, the flower fades;
    but the word of our God will stand forever.
Get you up to a high mountain,
    O Zion, herald of good tidings;[a]
lift up your voice with strength,
    O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings,[b]
    lift it up, do not fear;
say to the cities of Judah,
    “Here is your God!”


10 See, the Lord God comes with might,
    and his arm rules for him;
his reward is with him,
    and his recompense before him.
11 He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
    he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
    and gently lead the mother sheep.
Isaiah

The odd thing: the times when good news is most difficult to believe are the times when we most need to hear it. 

When the pandemic goes on and on, when justice continues to be denied, when divisiveness and ego dominate the political arena making genuine governing all but impossible, when so much of what we cherish about the church seems to be unraveling, it is hard to believe there is good news. All seems bleak and hopeless. Isaiah sounds like a cock-eyed optimist, totally oblivious to the realities of our day. We can’t help but ask, “Can anything good come out of this?”  

It’s hard for us, but it was hard for those who first heard Isaiah’s words as well. They had been forced into exile, living in a foreign land for decades. Their temple, which was essential to their faith, had been destroyed. They lived under the rule of an empire that had conquered them. They must have wondered, “Can anything good come out of this?”

And things seemed just as bad for the people of Jesus’ day. They were subjects of the Roman Empire and a puppet king. Their religious leaders seemed more concerned with protecting their power and privilege than anything having to do with genuine faith. They must have wondered, “Can anything good come out of this?”

But to them and to us the words of Isaiah come. They are words for us despite these times—words we need because of these times. Comfort. Speak tenderly. The rough places shall become a plain. The glory of the Lord will be revealed. He will feed his flock like a shepherd.

Something good can and will come out of this because God is always at work to redeem even the most devastating circumstances. Hope is possible not because all is well with the world, but because God is in the world. Hope is possible because God comforts and redeems. That is good news for difficult times. It is good news for us. It comes in a word made flesh to dwell among us. This is the hope we claim each Advent season and this year is no different!

Offered by Jeff Jones, to light our path to Bethlehem.



String of Lights

Readings: Malachi 3:1-4 or Baruch 5:1-9; Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6

I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now. I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God. Phil. 3:1-11, NRSV

Today, on the second Sunday in Advent, we light the Bethlehem candle, the candle representing faith and Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem. Last Sunday’s candle was the candle of hope, and next week we’ll light the candle of love. It helps me to be alive in the expectation of the coming of the Messiah to remember what the candles represent, and about their meaning in my life. 

Today’s passages are all about hope, faith and joy. John the baptizer is preaching the words of Isaiah; they resound in Handel’s Messiah, as in Baruch in his apocryphal book. And Philippians is the epistle of joy.

Paul is praying that the church has the true knowledge, knowledge with full insight, to know what is best to do before the Messiah returns. What is knowledge with full insight?I like to think it’s the difference  between knowing about and knowing. I read somewhere that knowing about is like having a string of Christmas lights: Knowing is plugging them in. 

It seems there are lots of folk who know about Jesus but how many of us know him?
O that we would pray the prayer that Paul is praying for each other today with complete faith.Come Lord Jesus, come.

Offered by Bill Albritton, to light our path to Bethlehem.

Light and Joy

Readings: Luke 1:68-79; Malachi 3:13-18; Philippians 1:18b-26

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he as looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us. Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham, to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days. And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people for the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. Luke 1:68-79, NRSV

These days I awake early and find joy in watching the light of day come gradually.  If it is to be a sunny day, the light seems to come more quickly than on cloudy ones. I am patient with this process, confident that light will arrive; however, I am not as patient in my daily life as I wait for the pandemic to end, for peace at home and abroad, for my daughter to find happiness, or for some new spiritual insight. Waiting for dawn and reflecting on this scripture passage reminded me that light usually comes gradually to the dark places in my soul and the belief that God will guide me through the process of healing and growth.  

St. Paul is a good role model for this. In the reading from Philippians, Paul has joy and hope because he knows that all will be well, light will come, no matter what or however long it takes, because he has the prayers of the people and the power of the Holy Spirit dwelling within him.  The Holy Spirit guided him to be faithful to his mission.  He chose inner joy, born of faith – the joy that provides light even in times of suffering and darkness.

The Christmas card I will send this year has a wonderful quote– “Joy is the echo of God’s life in us.”  How will we find God’s light, peace, joy this Advent/Christmas season?  How can we be the joyful echo of God’s voice for others?  Can we turn away from the voices of “joy marketing” (a real business term designed to lure us into buying stuff that distracts us from the authentic joy Christ promises) and listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit that invites us to share the gifts of ourselves, our time, talent and treasure with family, friends and the needy, to help bring light into the darkness.

Offered by Ann Fowler to light our path to Bethlehem.

Original Source

What was good? What was hard? Where did you see God?

These three questions for me are the gist of the Daily Examen of Saint Ignatius, but that’s not where I first heard them all strung together. They guided the evening wrap-up for the teens and chaperones of Saint John’s church, Duxbury, on their yearly mission trip.

It’s been twelve or so years since I heard the questions, and they’ve stayed with me. I’d guess they’ve stayed with everyone who went on those mission trips, in one form or another. In their depth and simplicity, they offer a holy pattern of remembering, of recognizing God’s presence in the people and events that daily life offers. They offer us a glimpse of the holiness of our own lives.

Saint Ignatius came first, but it was Heidi Marcotte who gave me the questions. I am profoundly changed by and grateful for them.

What Was Good?

Heidi Marcotte’s presence in my work at Saint John’s back then, and the blessing of her friendship today.

The Examened Life

It’s November. The days are getting shorter, and the separation between Halloween and Christmas seems to shrink a little bit more every year. I don’t want to lose this month of harvest and giving thanks.

Last year, I wrote a pandemic curriculum for Thanksgiving based on the Daily Examen of Saint Ignatius. In a time when many activities were out of the question, and many people were questioning their life patterns, it seemed like a good idea. I put it in the form of three questions:

What was good? What was hard? Where did you see God?

Families were encouraged to take some time each day to answer them together, and were given paper of various shapes to write their answers down. It was my way of offering a specific spiritual practice for God’s beloved children of all ages.

This year, even with the restoration of some of our pre-pandemic patterns, I’m returning to the three questions of the Examen for the Thanksgiving curriculum. What was good this day/week/month/season? What was hard? Where did you see God? I hope you will join me, adding your own answers and spending time with the creator who loves you beyond measure.

Click here to add your thoughts on these three questions;

https://padlet.com/ccpsundayschool/1cb2vk2xkdnyrxeh

Free Time

Free Intercessions may be offered.

One of the big complaints against the traditions that have a set liturgy – prayers, responses, etc., that are used all the time – is that there isn’t any place in them for heartfelt, spontaneous prayer. Canned religion, some call it.

There’s some truth to that accusation; it can easily become a rote exercise, familiar words mumbled without really paying attention to them. We can revert to Automatic Pilot mode, avoiding any deep engagement with God, ourselves, and one another.

There’s a lot of ignorance to that accusation; beautiful words that have been spoken so often that they are familiar friends can guide us into God’s presence when our own imaginations and verbal resources aren’t up to the task.

Here’s the irony – the best of both worlds is already offered in these five words: free intercessions may be offered. Here is our chance to speak what is on our hearts, in our own words, with our own sense of purpose and timing. We can let the ancient prayers and offerings revive our souls and replenish our own spiritual imaginings, then move into this free space. Here is the place, now is the time. Lift yourself, others, this entire world to God in your own words.

Free intercessions may be offered. It’s a shame that this sentence is written in such small print as to be easily overlooked.

Heaven On Earth

Lord Jesus Christ, you said to your apostles, “Peace I give to you; my own peace I leave with you:” Regard not our sins, but the faith of your Church, and give to us the peace and unity of that heavenly City, where with the Father and the Holy Spirit you live and reign, now and forever. Amen.

Peace I leave with you, Jesus said. He didn’t say leisure, money, power, or the security and insularity they might buy us. Don’t look at our blindness or our inability/unwillingness to see past our own desires: see us always as part of that spiritual congregation whose vision is clear, we ask. Because the peace and unity of heaven will never settle in our bones and our communities through our own efforts. Such things come from an awareness and acceptance of our own participation in a communion that stretches back to the beginning of this creation and will embrace all life that is to come.

Heaven on earth isn’t a mini-paradise of our own making. Heaven on earth is already here, in the peace that Jesus left with us. If we want to find ourselves in it, we have to let go of our smaller, self-centered versions that will always fall short.

What a gutsy, wise thing to request in the middle of my day.

Collecting Paul

Almighty Savior, who at noonday called your servant Saint Paul to be an apostle to the Gentiles: We pray you to illumine the world with the radiance of your glory, that all nations may come and worship you; for you live and reign for ever and ever. Amen.

Illumination is a gift from God to be sure, but it comes at the cost of the life we assumed we would lead. Paul had no desire to bring the love of God to Gentiles, but that was the holy calling and life that he got. The flash of light and the voice from heaven stripped him of his spiritual blindness courtesy of a three day physical blindness.

Perhaps it is only when we are stripped of the illusion that we see reality clearly that we are willing to rely on God’s vision. It’s quite a bold thing to ask for, as an individual and as part of the nations of this world, this clarity of vision. If it changed Paul’s life so dramatically, it’s likely to do the same to ours…

The Second Collect

Blessed Savior, at this hour you hung upon the cross, stretching out your loving arms: Grant that all the peoples of the earth may look to you and be saved; for your tender mercies’ sake. Amen.

I haven’t spent much time thinking about when Jesus was on the cross. Only in Holy Week does the movement of my hours align with the hours of crucifixion. But here it is, in the middle of my routine day: a prayer to remember the cost of true love.

If I claim Jesus, then Jesus has a claim on me. I doubt it will involve martyrdom, but it does demand that I take up the cross of my own life. I’m meant to love truly in this time and place, and to sacrifice to foster that love for and in others.

It’s the best of all possible realities, not the easiest.