Prayer, day 2021: Prayer for an Ordination (or two)

From the ordination today of Shug, Nancy, and David to the transitional diaconate in Missouri.

Breathe upon us, Breath of God,

and consecrate us to your use, O Merciful One:
make us instruments of your love
transformed by your grace.
All that we have and are
we offer to you, O God:
make us worthy to stand before You, we pray.

Help us to minister to all we encounter,
be fully present to those we meet,
and honor your light in every face, O Savior.
Open our hearts to answer your call,
O Emmanuel,
to sow love and justice
even in the rockiest soils in our spirits
and throughout our journey today.
Give us voices to sing your praise, Lord Christ,
and the courage to witness to your gospel,
and set our feet surely
within the path of holiness and peace.

By the power of the Holy Spirit,
place your hand over us and guard us, O God,
and all whose needs we remember before You as we pray.

Amen.

From the ordination of Meg to the transitional diaconate today in DC.

Prayer, day 2695: For the Ordination of Deon Johnson as Bishop of the Diocese of Missouri

Almighty God, who is making heaven and earth,
we lift our hearts to You in gratitude and praise.
Come, Holy Spirit, come.
Let all the round Earth sing out your glory;
let heart tell to heart the wonders of the Lord.
Plant within our hearts the strength and courage
to serve You and your Holy Church in all we do.
May we celebrate the beauty of God
in every person we encounter,
aflame with the light of Christ,
who is mother and father of us all.
Make us steadfast laborers in the fields of justice and peace,
standing with all oppressed in body, mind, or spirit.

Abide within our hearts, Blessed Jesus,
that we may sing your love into the world.
Make us healers, hearers, doers,
shepherds for the found as well as the lost,
grounded in your grace and mercy.

In humility, we lay our lives before You:
bless and hallow them to your glory, O Merciful One.
Spirit of God, rest upon us,
and extend the shade of your blessing over all for whom we pray.

Amen.

Prayer, day 2576

Beloved Savior, we come before you
seeking your grace and compassion this day: 
we long for the weight of your hand upon us 
as we seek to live into your witness of reconciliation. 

Awaken us to your presence within us, Lord Christ, 
that we remember that in your incarnation, 
you remind us of our true nature and work: 
to heal the sick,
to stand alongside the oppressed,
to reconcile the lost,
to honor the least of these, 
to walk humbly and ever closer with our God. 

Blessed Jesus, you taught us to pray and to listen, 
to embody wisdom, peace, and virtue, 
breathing forgiveness and mercy 
in the renewal of life, holiness, and hope for all:
Today, may we set our feet firmly in this pilgrim path. 

Bless and strengthen us in determination, O Messiah, 
as we seek to embody your light and truth, 
and in your compassion pour out your comfort 
upon those whose needs we bring before you.

Amen.

Love in Flesh and Blood: Sermon for Proper 15B

I grew up in the so-called “Bible Belt,” in churches that did not observe formal liturgy, in places that never spoke of the word “sacrament” or pondered what that word might mean. Yet, the first time I took part in an Episcopal liturgy when I was 12 years old, I felt an astonishing thing come over me. 

At one level, I had no idea what was happening. Instead of sitting still, listening to a 40 minute sermon followed by a twenty minute altar call, there was all this movement—what the late great comedian and Episcopalian Robin Williams called “pew aerobics.” Up, down. Stand, sit, kneel. Genuflecting. Bowing. Crossing yourself. Juggling a service leaflet and a prayer book and a hymnal—and, this being Oklahoma— a Bible.

But it was at the start of the Holy Communion part of the service that I was absolutely broken open, heart, body, and soul. It was there that I truly felt to be a part of the great body of the Church, and felt received and accepted as I was, with all my faults. I saw how the practice of communion empowered the church, with each and every one of us as a full minister of it, to offer ourselves and all the world’s prayers before God. It left me reeling and rejoicing, all at the same time.

Jesus’s words today can leave us reeling, too. Jesus reminds us that he is the living bread sent by the living Father, and that by taking Jesus into our physical bodies we are made one with him. That promise resounds for us two thousand years later and asks us to take it seriously. And that’s hard for us. The gospel is so radical and life-changing that we often can’t help but try to tame it a little—or a lot. We try to domesticate it, water it down, and therefore place it under our control. But that’s exactly what Jesus is pushing back against in our gospel today. His words call us to renew our understanding of how earth-shaking this act of communion and thanksgiving really is.

For weeks now, Jesus has declared that he is the bread of life, and the crowd asked him for this bread, always. And we DO have it always, in the Eucharist. In our faith that lives and breathes through us, when we let it. We have it always, when we open our hearts to the presence of Christ within us, both as individuals and as a parish and in the world at large.

Count how many times the word “life” or some form of it appears in this reading. We are talking about matters of life and death here—literally. Perhaps a question we can ask ourselves is this: are we really living, or are we just existing? Are we opening ourselves to the blessings and wonders of God’s gifts to us, and then seeking to reflect that joy and hope and light into the world?

There are often times that we get so overwhelmed that we just drift along, reacting rather than being mindful. And who can blame us? There seems to be a constant tattoo of bad news—illnesses, crises, struggles to put food on the table, struggles to find time to spend with those we love, political turmoil, natural disasters—the list goes on and on. Yet it is at moments such as these that we sometimes have to be shaken out of our cycle of anxiety, take a deep breath, and remember that we are not in this alone.

Look again at this passage. Jesus PROMISES us full, rich, abundant life in him—true and real communion with him and in him. That communion with Jesus also draws us into a precious communion with each other. Such devotion Jesus offers us can be overwhelming.

Jesus is asking us to have faith enough to let ourselves be wide open to his grace, light and truth.
To have faith in the Way of Jesus, a way that is governed by a wisdom that goes against the cynicism and miserly fears that attempt to dominate us.
To be wide open to being fed with the very substance of love.
Jesus is asking to be welcomed into our inmost beings, and to recognize our oneness with the divine love that is at the beating heart of the spiritual life-- of life itself.

If we take that seriously, of course it shocks us. 

Jesus’s words this week are meant to shock his listeners. When he talks about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, it probably makes most of us uncomfortable, and rightfully so. But even in our discomfort, we also need to see that Jesus is stating as forcefully as he can that he will feed us with his very self, seeking to be alongside us and within us always. And that’s why, for many of us, Eucharist is such a central part of our worship together each week. Yet hopefully it never becomes for us something commonplace, something expected, something routine. I personally hope to never take this for granted.

I remember the first time I listened to the Eucharistic prayer in an Episcopal church, and was invited to kneel alongside people who were largely strangers to me and raise my hands to receive this miraculous sacrament. Something electric went through me, and I have never been the same since. Even though it is years later, I can still see the faces of those around me as together we received the Body and Blood of Jesus. Each time we gather around this altar, we are joined together, and not just within this service or within this building, but across time and distance. 

My father was not a church-going man, and hardly ever took communion that I can recall, yet in his last days, a priest from one of the churches I attended in Tulsa came to minister to my dad, assuring him of God’s love and offering him and all of us in the room communion. It gave him a sense of peace which I had seldom seen within him. I am convinced that every time we share in communion, he is there alongside me, and all those we love and see no more are gathered with us too. This altar stretches through time and space as we reaffirm that we all share in the heavenly banquet.

Sharing in the Eucharist together reminds us that eternity is not something trapped in the future but is now. If “Christ has died; Christ has risen; Christ will come again”… if Jesus “was, and is, and shall be, world without end, amen”… then we participate in Christ’s life right now when we gather together in worship and singing and praise (as was discussed in our reading from Ephesians), and certainly when we eat of Christ’s body and drink of his blood. We are then “in Christ, and he in us.” 

And isn’t that what the Christian life is all about? To be transformed and transform ourselves and others; to be healed and to heal ourselves and others; to be fed and to feed ourselves and others. If we are in Christ and Christ is in us, we aren’t just waiting around for God to fix us or fix our society or fix our world. We are part of the life of God. Can we have faith enough to turn that around, and let God be a part of our lives, in the ways that really matter?

This is sacrament: a making holy of ourselves regardless of place, rank or time. In our gospel passage Jesus promises us this gift as part of his living ministry. We are given this gift for our benefit, and for the benefit and service of the entire world—no exceptions.

And while sacraments are all around us, and we live in what Archbishop of Canterbury William Temple called “a sacramental universe,” this sacrament of communion, along with the sacrament of baptism, melts away our walls and defenses, uniting us as one Body even outside the walls of this parish church. It reminds us that we are not just individuals, but we are members of the Body of Christ, and charges us to be Jesus’s hands, eyes, and heart in the world.

It’s an incredible thing. “This is my Body, given for you” has a multiplicity of meaning and seems foolish when we hear it. Yet through this statement, we reach up with hopeful hands and we accept that gift of Christ’s very body for us. We are also made part of that Body, and are thus called to sacrifice and service, ourselves. This sacrifice is not just done for us, but is done by us, and with us, and in us, and throughout the world. We all are empowered as ministers through this sharing and being willing to share.

It also means that, as Christ lives within us, sustaining us both body and soul, so we must be about the very real work of sustaining others. Living as Christ’s Body in the world calls us to hold nothing back, but to offer of ourselves in response to very real hunger we encounter in the world.

Here, around this altar, we meet a God who loves us enough to be one OF us. Jesus holds nothing back from us, but becomes one WITH us in spirit but also in our very bodies, absorbed into our very cells and sinews and bones. In defiance of our failures and shortcomings, because Jesus is always there with us, we become love in our bones; we are anchored within the eternal life and love of God, no matter where we are at that moment—in happiness or sorrow, in comfort or in pain, in joy or mourning, in peace or in turmoil.

In all times and in all places, may we trust in your promises, Beloved Savior, and remember that we are one with you, and you with us.

Amen.


Preached at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, August 18 at the 505, and on August 19 at 8:00 and 10:15 am.

Readings:
1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14
Psalm 111
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:51-58

Images:
1) Joey Velasco (1967-2010), Filipino, Hapag ng Pag-asa (Table of Hope)
2) from wiirocku.tumblr.com
3) detail from an early depiction of the Heavenly Banquet

Prayer 1860- God Who Sees Me

God of All Mercy,
El Roi, the God Who Sees Me,
You have given us a new day
for us to praise and bless You.

May we humbly offer the work of our hearts to You,
Blessed Savior,
that our deeds and example may be holy and healing.

May we work for the restoration of creation,
setting our hands to repairing the breaches that divide us,
working together in harmony.

May we set our course by your wisdom,
and be guided by faith and hope,
reflecting your peace in our lives.

Unite us as a royal priesthood,
gathered by your mercy to serve your truth,
supported and guided by the Holy Spirit.

Bless us, O God, we humbly pray,
and give your angels charge over those we now name,
enveloping them in your abundant love.

Amen.

Prayer 1785: for ministry and dedication

Myself, the Rev. Dr. Maria Evans, and the Rev. Andrew Suitter
 after our grand ordination adventure was finally complete on December 17, 2016.
In the midst of an ice storm, Andrew and I were ordained on December 16,
and Maria was ordained the following morning after being stranded the night before.

(On the first anniversary of our ordination to the transitional diaconate)

Breathe upon us, Breath of God,
and consecrate us to your use, O Merciful One:
make us instruments of your love
transformed by your grace.
All that we have and are
we offer to you, O God:
make us worthy to stand before You, we pray.

Help us to minister to all we encounter,
be fully present to those we meet,
and honor your light in every face, O Savior.
Open our hearts to answer your call,
O Emmanuel,
to sow love and justice
even in the rockiest soils in our spirits
and throughout our journey today.
Give us voices to sing your praise, Lord Christ,
and the courage to witness to your gospel,
and set our feet surely
within the path of holiness and peace.

By the power of the Holy Spirit,
place your hand over us and guard us, O God,
and all whose needs we remember before You as we pray.

Amen.

Prayer for New Ministry

Holy Spirit, pour out your fire
upon the people of the Church of St. Martin
 and upon their new rector, Pamela Dolan,
as they begin their ministry together today.
May she preach your Word among them faithfully,
and lead them into even greater discernment and witness
of God's loving embrace
of all the human family.

May they nurture each other in faith and holy wisdom,
working with compassionate hands and hearts
for the healing and renewal of God's sacred creation.
May they seek to continue to serve Christ in all persons,
and inspire others by their love and delight
in walking the path of discipleship.
May they uphold each other
as they join this new ministry together
and pray for each other,
committing their hearts and talents to each other
for the glory of God.
Made one body by the holy gift of love and grace,
may they together proclaim your gospel joyfully
and witness to the saving power of Christ
in their community and in the world.

Grant your favor and blessing, Lord Jesus,
upon her family as they are welcomed into their new home:
may they be embraced
and supported by the fabric of community,
and flourish in the new soil in which You have placed them.
Holy One, bless and keep Pamela, your priest,
and anoint her with the power of the Holy Spirit
that she may continue to guide your people deeper
into our shared life in Christ.

Amen.

A Prayer for Magdalene St. Louis

O God, you are a haven in times of turmoil.
You are our mighty rock and stronghold.

We know your love and mercy never fail;
we know your compassion can never be shaken.
Send your blessing out upon Magdalene House St. Louis
and help it to be a place of respite and healing
for all who are connected with it.
Imbue its workers with grace
and its leadership with wisdom.

And all this we pray for your Love's sake.

Amen.