Risen

We have witnessed our death.
Christ has carried our pain,
accepted our selfishness and fear,
been pierced with our wounds,
suffered our injustice.
The Beloved has borne us into our death.

But love like the holy bread
transforms that which swallows it.
Christ has broken the walls of the tomb—
our tomb.
Christ is risen,
and now we too are alive.

Alleluia!

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Holy Saturday

Grief is the friend
who teaches us what abides.

Emptiness is the gift
in which the struck bells ring.

Silence is the wonder
in which the next thing may unfold.

Nothingness is the air
that fills the sail.

Darkness is the mystery
where the tomb can become a womb.

Waiting is the discipline
that holds the moment open.

Mystery wraps its long arms around us,
knowing glory beyond our knowing.

This is every day’s holiness,
losses sinking in, miracles biding time,

sitting still, God holding our hand
without our knowing.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Eli, Eli

           My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
                      —Psalm 22.1

          Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”
                    —Matthew 27.46


To you who despair, here is the voice of hope.
God has not abandoned Jesus, or turned away.
(There is no suffering God does not look upon, or share.)
The mystery of the cross is that both you and God hang on it.
It is you repeating the ancient cry of our deepest horror:
the fear that God doesn’t know where you are,
and doesn’t care, the fear that you are alone
and unaccounted for in this cold world.
But on the cross it is also God.
God knows what it is to feel abandoned by God.
God is with you in that terrible aloneness.
Your longing is God.
Nothing, even the sense God has abandoned you,
can separate you from God.
God is there in your feeling forsaken,
your feeling of unworthiness,
your life as small as a grave
in the great wideness of this world.
God is with you there in that tiny, dark alone place.
And that cross, that tomb, because God is in it,
is unable to be final or complete,
unable even merely to be what it appears to be at all.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.ne
Listen to the audio recording:

His blood

         Jesus took a cup, and after giving thanks
         he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you;
         for this is my blood of the covenant,
         which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

                  — Matthew 26. 27-28

         Pilate said, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.”
         Then the people as a whole answered,
         “His blood be on us and on our children!”

                  — Matthew 27. 24-25

         We have been chosen and destined by God
         and sanctified by the Spirit to be obedient to Jesus Christ
         and to be sprinkled with Christ’s blood.

                  —1 Peter 1.2

         The blood of Jesus God’s Begotten cleanses us from all sin.
                  — 1 John 1.7



God does not demand blood. That’s our sickness.
Jesus’ blood does not make Jews guilty and Christians saved.
The power of the cross is not in the blood. It’s in the forgiveness.
Jesus’ blood—his life—that flows from his heart is his love,
that forgives us all. The blood of forgiveness
is splattered on the guards and their thorns
and the women and their tears,
sprinkled on the men and their hammers
and the disciples and their fear,
falls on the soldiers and their spears
and the onlookers and their deadly silence.
It’s a grisly scene, with blood everywhere,
the blood of forgiveness sprinkled on us all.
None are clean. All are washed.
None are without guilt. All are saved.
Behold the mystery of the cross, the blood of Christ.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Jesus, flesh of God

Jesus presence of God
           peace amid our chaos

Jesus flesh of God
           suffering with us

Jesus wound of God
           receiving our sorrow

Jesus hope of God
           praying for us

Jesus prisoner of God
           freely surrendering to us

Jesus innocence of God
          our scapegoat

Jesus silence of God
           no answer to our accusations

Jesus tenderness of God
           dying with us

Jesus love of God
           take us

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Low Jesus

My Beloved Jesus, my Healer and Savior
I do not look up to the heavens to seek you.
I look down, down to the lowest place, beneath me.
For you have come, with all the sorrows of the world,
come fresh from death row, from the starving child,
the bombed apartment, the locked ward,
from the bleeding street and the dusty camp,
with the despair of those dying alone—
you have come and knelt beneath me and washed my feet.
With a world to save, you come to me,
with such attentive tenderness, taking your time,
holding my wayward feet in your hands,
you bless me, heal me, wash me, anoint me.
You take the lowest place and serve me.
I will never find you up on the podium or pedestal,
but down on the ground, harvesting, cleaning,
invisible, among the unseen, unsung, unsavory.
You, my Lowest Christ, my ground beneath, my earth,
you hold my feet. I need never look higher.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Body and blood

           Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it
           he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said,
           “Take, eat; this is my body.”
           Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks
           he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you;
           for this is my blood of the covenant,
           which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

                           —Matthew 26.26-28


Oh, Mystery!

You hand me your brokenness
           and my taking it makes you whole.

I receive your blessing
           and my taking it makes me whole.

I take your brokenness into myself
           and it becomes part of me.

I drink of your forgiveness
           and I become part of you.

Around the table we share
           and we become part of each other.

We all are baked into one loaf,
           into your dying, and your rising.

We receive your giving
           and we too are given.

Oh, Mystery, I receive.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Seed

           Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies,
           it remains just a single grain;
           but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

                           —John 12.24

Beloved,
in love you have thrown the seed of yourself
into the soil of us.
You have sown yourself in the wound of us,
the dark, rich humus of our sorrow and lostness.
You have surrendered yourself to our pain
and the taunting of the demons that haunt us.
You’ve allowed the seed casing of your life to split open,
and your love to bleed out, reaching,
fingering tenderly through the dark soil,
infinite power of life creeping out.
You’ve already said, “Into your hand I commit my spirit.“
You have already died,
and been raised by life that is eternal.

So now you are ready
to ride your little donkey toward us,
Resurrected One, ready to be crucified.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Holy Week Prayers and Litanies

Download this document here.

Through the darkness

Gentle Shepherd,
through this valley of the shadow of death
you are with me.
The rod of your presence, the staff of your love,
they comfort me.
You have sought out my pain,
and come to be with me in my struggle.
In this darkness, where I am hurting and alone,
you are hurting with me, alone with me.
It is my pain you are nailed to,
my unknowing that leads you,
my blood that flows from your wounded side.
For this unspeakable miracle,
that you bear my pain with such love,
I thank you.
Even in my suffering I am in the paradise of you.
Beloved, whom I trust,
lead me through this darkness
to the dawn.
Amen.


Show us the way


Gentle and faithful God,
we are lost, wandering and hungry.
In our fear and self-centeredness we are in the dark.
In the pain we bear and the pain we inflict we are broken.
In our despair and distrust we are as good as dead.
Yet you are with us; you claim us;
your bear our cross, and make it your own.
Your presence radiates in us, and gives us light.
Heal our trembling hearts, transform our will,
lift up our spirits, and and give us hope.
Crucified One, walk with us,
show us the way, and lead us toward life.
Amen.

Make gentle our hearts

Tender God, we give thanks
that even in our sin we are your Beloved.
You welcome our shamed and violent hearts.
You heal our broken spirits.
You forgive the suffering we cause.
Make gentle our hearts in trust
that the pain we have cast onto others,
that has hurt you the deepest,
still fails to separate us from you,
but is swallowed up in your love.
Gentle God, you who suffer all violence and yet forgive,
Christ, you who are crucified
in all who are wounded, silenced or shamed,
fill our hearts with your mercy,
with gratitude for your grace,
with passion for your justice,
and with love for our neighbors,
in the name and the courage of Christ.
Amen.

At your table

Gentle Christ,
you invite us to feast with you,
to celebrate the Passover of death,
our liberation to new life.
We feast on your grace.
Knowing our guilt, you invite us.
Bearing our judgment, you share with us.
Suffering our wounds, you rejoice with us.
You hold us worthy, and you honor us.
You feed us, wash us, and teach us to pray,
and you pray for us when we are too weak.
We thank you. In deepest reverence
we receive you, take you into ourselves,
and become your Body.
For this Mystery we thank you
and ask your blessing,
that we may die with you and rise with you
by the grace of the Holy Spirit
and the infinite love of God.
Amen.

At the cross

Jesus,
we are silenced by your suffering.
You bear our pain
and even our thanks finds no words.
But we confess: it is pain we ourselves have caused.
It is our lynchings, our crucifixions you endure.
It oppression and injustice we have aided
that bears you away.
And yet you forgive.
In you we behold both our sin and our salvation.
Break our hearts, Loving One,
break our pride and fear,
and let your deep compassion seep in,
that we may end our violent ways,
that we may not judge or dismiss another.
Open our eyes to the Golgathas we live with.
Make us, by your suffering grace, compassionate people,
who hunger and thirst for justice and mercy.
Amen.

In the garden

Oh, dear Beloved,
how can I bury you?
To let you into the ground
is to let the pain into my heart.
I bury you in myself.
always here, in love.
And I release you,
accepting my loss, willing
to find wholeness in woundedness.
The garden, echo of Eden,
place of beauty and rest,
hides such sorrow.
Give me the honesty to weep,
the patience to wait,
the faith to know I am beloved
even when I am broken.
Give me the trust to know
you are not done yet.
Always, there is more. Always.
In your silence, I wait.
Amen.

The veneration of the cross

[Ideally for two readers plus congregation:
Reader 1 in plain type; Reader 2 in italics; Congregation in bold]

On the cross of Christ—behold our suffering.
        Jesus occupies our brokenness, knows our powerlessness, bears our wounds.
Even in our deepest pain God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ —behold our fear.
        In self-centered anxiety we cast our wounds onto others.
Even in our terror, God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ—behold our sin.
        Jesus suffers our violence and injustice, but forgives.
Even in our sin God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ—behold our death.
        Though we fear it, death does not separate us from God.
Even in our dying God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ—behold our salvation.
        Jesus suffered all we fear separates us from you,
        but not even sin and death can separate us from your love.
The God of love is with us and for us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.

_________

Prayer for Christ Imprisoned


Sovereign of the universe,
you dared to come to us in humble form,
in a prisoner, condemned and despised;
and still you come to us so,
and still we despise and condemn you.

We ask for your mercy and forgiveness.
Heal our hearts, and change our ways.

In the name of Christ we pray for all prisoners,
and those who guard them.

We pray especially for political prisoners
victims of government-sponsored violence,
and all who live in fear of coercion.

We pray for those who carry such fear
that they are willing to cause others to suffer.

Give us the heart of Christ,
the will to not cooperate with violence and evil,
but to resist it with our lives,
with courage and nonviolence,
with mercy, gentleness,
forbearance and forgiveness,
so that in our suffering,
in our resistance and in our faithfulness,
and in your invincible life-restoring grace,
we will know resurrection.
Amen.

___________


         The passion of Christ


Eternal God, our gentle servant,
in the silence you cry for justice.
We listen for your voice.

Loving Christ, Crucified One,
you appear in the suffering of the world.
Give us hearts of compassion.

You come to us in love
in the poor and the powerless, the crucified.
We love you only as we love them.

Your body is broken for us,
the earth, wounded for our appetites.
We repent of our greed.

Your blood is poured out for us,
our kin exploited for our ease.
Give us hearts of reverence and humility.

We were once slaves in Egypt:
undocumented immigrants, unaccompanied children.
Set us free from our cold heartedness and fear.

Scorned and rejected, O Christ,
imprisoned and condemned,
help us do to others as we wish for ourselves.

Unseen One, you who have suffered for our sins,
all those we do not see, who suffer for our sins,
forgive us, redeem us, and by your grace
grant that we may make this
a more just and gentle world. Amen.


Last Supper – A meditation


Beloved, in the face of evil you set a table of grace.

In the midst of death you feed us life.

In the face of injustice you practice generosity.

In our self-absorption you draw us into community.

In our fear you fearlessly love us.

In the face of oppression you initiate liberation.

We flee to save ourselves, but you give us yourself.

In our clinging to our lives you give us yours.

Knowing our unworthiness, you honor us.

Knowing our betrayal, you entrust yourself to us.

Suffering our hard-heartedness you forgive us.

Knowing our brokenness, you enter it.

To the sorrow still to come upon us, you grant peace.

When we think you are dead, you come to us.

Feasting on you, we become you.

Broken as bread, we die with you.

Life poured into us like richest wine, we rise.

Your heart beating in us, we go into this dark world
with joy and gratitude, with love and courage,
with wonder and hope, your name on our lips.


LITANY OF THE CROSS

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Grant us your peace.
Loving Christ, on the cross you emptied yourself;
may we follow in humility, self-emptying and trust.
Lord, have mercy.
In tender love you entered into the suffering of the world;
may we take up our cross and follow, vulnerable for the sake of love.
Christ, have mercy.
You bore our sin and violence and showed us only love;
fill us with your love.
Lord, have mercy.
You received our sin without judgment, and forgave us entirely;
we confess our sin, and pray that we may be forgiving of all people.
Christ, have mercy.
You exposed the evil of our systems and powers,
and the forces of injustice we participate in;
help us resist evil and injustice.
Lord, have mercy.
You bore our pain and shame,
for there is nothing that separates us from God;
open our hearts to God’s presence with us in our pain.
Christ, have mercy.
You shared the bonds of our mortality,
yet trusted in life that is eternal; grant us trust in eternal life.
Lord, have mercy.
You showed us that whatever we do
to the least of these, our sisters and brothers,
we do to you; open our heart to all who suffer.
Christ, have mercy.
You show us the power of nonviolent resistance, f
or your actions have changed the world;
may your Spirit live and work in us.
Lord, have mercy.
You enter the darkest parts of our souls,
and shine with the light of love;
fill our hearts with the mystery of your love.
Christ, have mercy.
We thank you. We praise
Lord, have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy, and grant us your peace. Amen.
SILENT REFLECTION

Advent 1

December 3, 2023

Lectionary Texts

Isaiah 64. 1-9 —“Oh, that you would tear open the heavens and come down!” God will reshape us, as a potter reworks the clay.

Psalm 80 — “Give ear, O shepherd of Israel!” We are a vine out of Egypt that has gone to ruin. Restore us.

1 Corinthians 1.3-9 — We have every spiritual gift we need as we await Christ’s coming, for which God strengthens us so we’ll be ready.

Mark 13.24-37 — Jesus imagines the coming of God’s “Human One” with “signs in the heavens.” The New Human is near. Stay alert. Like servants ready for the homeowner’s return, Keep awake!

Preaching Thoughts

Advent
       
Oh, how badly our people want to skip Advent and get right to Christmas! Part of the discipline of Advent is holding back, waiting, trusting, being patient—even being powerless. We experience our need for God to do for us what we can’t do for ourselves. But it’s not a desperate waiting. Hope isn’t wishful thinking, it’s trust in what is already present but unseen. Let your people experience the discipline of waiting in trust: surrendering, being still, listening, Confession isn’t just enumerating bad stuff we’ve done. It’s also simply naming our need, our incompleteness without God.
      People want Christmas already—and they want Christmas carols. One way I’ve found to satisfy people’s hunger for Christmas carols in December and still stay in Advent is to set liturgical words to the melodies of familiar carols. I use them with table songs (preparation for communion), Eucharistic responses, whole Eucharistic prayers, and songs of blessing.
       We anticipate the birth of Christ on three levels: looking to the past, with Joseph and Mary we prepare for the birth of Jesus; looking to the present, we prepare for Christ to be born in our own hearts; and looking to the future we prepare for the coming of Christ to transform human history. Following along with Joseph and Mary and Elizabeth can help us practice a spirit of preparation and “hurry up and wait.” Listening to John the Baptist helps us prepare more than presents, food and decorations: we open ourselves to the transformation of our hearts. A quick perusal of the headlines as well as honesty about our own hearts makes it clear how badly we need God, how we need to be saved from the demonic power of our fears, desires and distrust. Even as we sometimes worry about the future and “where the world is headed” God’s promise is for blessing. We practice preparing for grace even when things look scary. Advent is a time when we re-tool how we think about the world, and our role in its healing.
       Often terrible things happen in December that seem to “spoil Christmas.” But in fact those terrible things are exactly why Jesus is coming, and where Jesus is needed. It’s those awful experiences that are really the “reason for the season.” If it weren’t for them we wouldn’t need Jesus. Advent is a time to get honest about suffering and injustice, about our hurts and wounds, our worry and despair, and the power of evil, selfishness and fear in our world. It’s in honesty about our brokenness that we prepare ourselves for the coming of the Healer of the World.

Isaiah
     Advent begins, even before the luminous promise of God’s coming, with the reality of our need, our deep hunger for God, for grace, for the restoration of life. Isaiah’s image of God far off, needing to burst the bounds of heaven to come to us, is not literally true. God is not distant. God is here, in everything. But the longing is real. We don’t sense God’s presence—or trust God’s presence when we don’t sense it. Our lack of trust is a veil that makes God seem distant. What needs to be “torn open” is our awareness. We long for God to burst through the veil of our inability to see, our inability to trust.
        Our awareness, of course, depends on our perspective. So often we want to sense God’s presence for our own comfort and reassurance. Because that’s self-centered, that’s not where we’re likely to behold God. But if we re-orient ourselves in love, then we see God! So what’s needed is not for God to move toward us but for us to turn around and face toward God. This requires more than a new thought: it’s a re-modeling of who we are. We need to be re-worked like a potter works the clay into a new vessel. In Advent we express our longing and anticipation in repentance.

Gospel
       Apocalypse. Jesus seems to have had a vision, consistent with apocalyptic thought, of God entering into human history in a concrete way on a certain day in the future. Such thought is common among persecuted minorities who believe human culture is unable to “evolve” to where God intends us to be, and nothing short of divine intervention will save us. “Apocalypse” doesn’t mean the end of the world. It means “revealing.” God reveals God’s true intent for human history, by dismantling the systems we have in place—taking apart the Legos of human society—and re-creating it the right way. It’s “the end of the world as we know it” only if we hang onto human power structures. If we let go and repent, it’s not an end at all but a new birth. The point of apocalypse is not the burning cauldrons and Hollywood special effects of death and destruction, it’s the new heaven and new earth. (By the way people who try to “bring on the apocalypse,” for instance by encouraging huge disasters like war or ecological collapse, are tragically deluded: the apocalypse is something God does in God’s own time, and we have absolutely no influence on God’s timing.) Advent is a time when we turn our eyes and our imagination toward the reality that God is revealing to us in Jesus, the life of love and justice. It’s a world that is not yet fully here. We await its coming.
       Apocalypse now. Of course Jesus isn’t concerned with some imagined future event that may or may not involve us. (After all, if it’s been over 2000 years, who’s to say it won’t be another 2000 before it happens?) He is, as always, directing our attention toward the present moment. If at some point God intends to bring human culture into harmony with God’s grace, what might that look like? Imagine that—and live that way now! Jesus’ parables aren’t about checking the timetables of God’s future appearance, they’re about living in harmony with God’s grace right now, this moment. One way to do that is to be aware of God’s grace at work in this world, here, now. Even in this broken, twisted world full of evil and injustice and suffering and grief, God’s grace is present and at work. Look for it. God’s love is powerful. Notice it. Keep your eyes open. Focus on the overwhelming power of goodness and kindness amid greed and violence. Focus on the courage and beauty that love gives to people in the face of fear and oppression. Stay mindful of injustice and how it works, and keep your eyes open for justice and how it rises, how it changes things. Advent is a time of increased focus in our awareness.
       The New Human. Jesus says the Son of man is near. “Son of Man” has a double meaning. It means both “one of us,” or “really human human being,” and it also refers to the character in Daniel’s vision that in Jesus’ time was given Messianic overtones: someone sent by God to usher in a new age. For Christians Jesus exemplifies both of those: he is an ordinary human, “one of us,” but also shows us the glorious and even divine nature of who it is we really are. He dies this not by claiming anything but by showing us: by enacting a new vision of what it means to be human, and thus ushering a new age of human experience. He’s the New Human. In Advent we observe the emergence of a new way of being; as thew prophet cries to “prepare a way” we acknowledge that Jesus is the way. So Advent isn’t just a time to look to the heavens for God to come intervene. It’s also a time to look at a new way of living, and new way of being human
       Stay woke. Conservatives have reacted against the idea of being “woke,” but being woke is exactly what Jesus is talking about: being awake, aware of what’s going on—“when you see these things taking place”—and in particular aware of justice and injustice, and alert to signs of God’s activity in righting wrongs and confronting injustice. Or in Isaiah’s words (that Jesus seems to love), the work to “bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners, and to proclaim the time of God’s favor” (Isa. 61.1-2). Such wakefulness requires painful self-examination for the ways we are complicit in injustice. People who demonize being “woke” are simply giving voice to our resistance. So Jesus coaches us: “Keep awake!” Stay woke. Advent is a season of waking up in the dark, and beginning to see the light.

       See Advent Resources including Advent Candle lighting prayers (two        series), Advent Wreath prayers and music including Eucharistic prayers and        responses and weekly litanies.

Call to Worship

1. See Advent Candle lighting prayers here.

2. See Advent wreath prayers here.

3.
O deepening darkness, make room for us!
       O gathering darkness, receive our prayers.
O luminous darkness, bring Mystery near.
       O welcoming darkness, let us find God.

We gather to worship, O God, seeking your light.
       We come by your invitation, led by your love.
Bless us in our worship, that we may see your light.
       Bless us that we may be your light,
       the light of Christ dawning in this world’s night. Amen.

4.
We are gathered here, led by the Spirit that has called us.
         We are led by our longing, longing for God,
         for God’s peace in our hearts and justice in the world.
Rejoice, and be glad, for God is near.
         God is coming, always coming into the world,
         and into our hearts.

God, you open our eyes to see signs of your coming.
         Even our longing is the voice of God.
God, we worship you in hope and in faith.
         Come, dear Jesus, come, and renew our hearts.

Collect / Prayer of the Day

1.
God of Eternity, God of this moment, we trust that you are coming. Come to us in scripture and in silence. Open our hearts to your grace, that we may prepare a room for the birth of Christ in us and among us. Awaken us, God, and keep us awake. Amen.

2.
God of Hope, we turn to you. In the darkness be our light. In the longing be our hope. In the silence be our Word. May your Promise be our light. Amen.

3.
Eternal One, we cry to you. A the darkness of night enfolds us, wondering and waiting. We long for light. We long for you. We long for the coming of Christ, your humble one, among us. Open the eyes of our hearts to look for your coming. Open the arms of our souls to welcome you. Lift up our heads to watch for your dawning. Amen.

4.
Gracious God, Creator of all things,
we give thanks that you are still creating.
Receive our deepest longings with tenderness, and nourish them,
that we may plead for your coming in hope.
Gentle Christ, you who came among us in love, you are still coming.
Open our hearts, that we may prepare for you with lives of love.
Spirit of Life, you shone in the darkness, and still you shine.
Shine in us, that we may proclaim your coming
in lives of joy and justice,
Incarnate God, you entered into Mary, and she bore you into the world.
Bless us, that we may participate in your coming
with deep and life-giving peace. Amen.


5.
God of hope and mystery, we cry out to you out of the darkness of winter and the darkness in our hearts. How we long for you to reveal yourself to us, to come and be with us! Open our hearts as we worship and as we live our lives, that we may hear again your promise, see signs of your coming and ready our hearts for your advent among us. We pray in the name of Christ, who is coming. Amen.

6.
God, sometimes it feels you are far away. Open the eyes of our hearts to see you are near. Open the ears of our spirits to hear your footsteps in this world. Strengthen the hands of our faith tp open the door to you, for you are coming, always coming, into this world and into our lives, in the person and the presence and the spirit of Jesus. Amen.

Listening Prayer

(suitable as a Collect, preparation for hearing scriptures, or invitation to prayer)

1.
In the night
the dawn is barely perceptible
but we know it is coming.
So we know your grace is present
through we cannot see it.
Awaken our hearts, keep our spirits alert,
open to signs of your grace. Amen.

2.
In the night, just before dawn,
your gentle light rises in the east
of our hearts.
In stillness, watching, we wait.

Eucharistic Prayer

See Advent table songs (preparation for communion), Eucharistic responses, whole Eucharistic prayers, and songs of blessing. All set to traditional Christmas tunes.

[After the introduction, the body of the prayer may be read responsively with the presiding leader(s) and congregation, or by the leader(s) alone.]

God is with you.
And also with you.
Lift up your hearts.
We lift them up to God.
Let us give thanks to the Faithful One, our God.
It is good and beautiful to give God our praise.

God of grace, we thank you,
for out of the chaos and darkness you brought light;

out of the shadows of slavery you brought us to freedom
out of the dark tomb you raised Jesus up to life.

And now in the darkness we look for your grace
we see your power at work, and we know you are near.
Entering into the brokenness of our world,
you transform and bring forth life.
By many signs you awaken us to your coming.

Therefore we join with all those who long for new life,
whose eyes are eagerly on the door of your grace:
together with them we rejoice at the promise of your coming,
and we sing your praise.

            [Sanctus, spoken or sung:]
        Holy, holy, holy One, God of power and might,
        heaven and earth are full of your glory.
        Hosanna in the highest.
        Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God.
        Hosanna in the highest.
               [or alternate version]

Blessed are all who come in your name, and blessed is Jesus, your Christ,
the flesh of your presence and the light of your coming,
Jesus loved the neglected and healed the broken,
gathered the outcast and gave hope to the despairing.

Jesus entered into the suffering of the world to redeem it,
and to redeem all who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

[The Blessing and Covenant…]

Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”
As often as we break this bread and share this cup
we remember his death and resurrection until he comes again.
Remembering these, your mighty acts in Jesus Christ,
we offer ourselves in praise and thanksgiving
as a living and holy sacrifice, in union with Christ’s offering for us,
as we proclaim the mystery of our faith:

             [Memorial Acclamation, spoken or sung:]
        Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
                     —or—
        Dying, Christ destroyed our death. Rising, Christ restores our life.
        Christ will come again in glory.
             [or alternative]

Awaken your Holy Spirit in these gifts of bread and cup,
that they may be for us the body and blood of Christ.
Awaken your Holy Spirit in us,
that we may be for the world the Body of Christ,
transformed by your grace and confident in your coming,
to your eternal glory and praise.

     [Spoken or sung]
Amen
.

____________
* The Blessing and Covenant
[I usually don’t print the words. I want people to be looking at the bread, not their bulletins.]

On the night in which he gave himself for us
Jesus took bread, blessed it,. broke it, and gave it to his disciples,saying,
“Take and eat; this is my body.”
In the same way, after the supper he took the cup,
blessed it with thanks and gave it to them, saying,
“Drink of this, all of you. This is my blood,
poured out for you and for many, in a new Covenant,
which is the forgiveness of sin.”
As long as we break this bread and share this cup
we remember his death and resurrection, until he comes again.

Prayer of Dedication / Sending / after Communion

[Adapt as needed.]
1.
Gracious God, we thank you for (the mystery that you give yourself to us / this mystery in which you have given yourself to us.) You promise to enter into our suffering and the suffering of the world. By this meal awaken us to your coming and come to new life in us, that we may live as signs of your coming, for the sake of the healing of the world, in the power of your Holy Spirit and the name of Christ, who is coming. Amen.

2.
Gracious God, we thank you for (the mystery that you give yourself to us / this mystery in which you have given yourself to us.) In the depths of our hunger, you feed us with your promise. In the darkness of the night you enlighten us with your coming. May your longing in us be light for this world, for the sake of the healing of all Creation, in the name of Christ. Amen.

3.
Gracious God, we thank you for (the mystery that you give yourself to us / this mystery in which you have given yourself to us.) Help us to prepare for your coming again in hope and trust. Send us into the world, transformed by your grace into the Body of Christ, to be signs of your coming, by your presence in us, in the name and the Spirit of Christ. Amen.

4.
Gracious God, we thank you for (the mystery that you give yourself to us / this mystery in which you have given yourself to us.) You have filled us with the bread of hope, the bread of longing. Bless us that we may never lose our hunger for you. Send us into the world to plead for your coming with patience and faith, living prayerfully, and serving lovingly, in the name and the Spirit of Christ, who is coming. Amen.

Suggested Songs

(Click on titles to view, and hear an audio clip, on the Music page)

See Advent table songs (preparation for communion), Eucharistic responses, whole Eucharistic prayers, and songs of blessing. All set to traditional Christmas tunes.

Come, Bring your Light and Shepherd of Israel are weekly litanies, one verse per week; suitable for a call to worship, introduction or response to scripture, response to sermon, affirmation, or other places in worship. The Cantor’s lyrics reflect the day’s lectionary texts; the congregational response is the same throughout Advent.

Come, Bring Your Light       (Original song)
A weekly litany. A dialogue between solo cantor and congregation.

Week 1:
O God, that you would tear open the heavens and come down!
You are our maker, you the potter and we your clay.

We lack no spiritual gift as we wait for you, O Christ.
For you will strengthen us to the end.

       Congregation:
       O Come to us, O come, Emmanuel,
       and bring your light into our darkened world.

Keep alert, for you do not know when the Beloved will appear.
As with the fig tree, watch for signs of new life.

Heaven and earth will pass away but your words will not pass away.
Help us follow your call to keep awake.

       Congregation:
       O Come to us, O come, Emmanuel,
       and bring your light into our darkened world.


Shepherd of Israel      (Original song)
A weekly litany. A dialogue between solo cantor and congregation.

Congregation:
Kyrie Eleison. Christe Eleison. Kyrie Eleison.
Come to us, and grant your peace.

Cantor:
Week 1. Shepherd of Israel, come, restore your people.
Shine your face on us and save us, God. Kyrie…

Week 2. Comfort, speak tenderly. Gently lead your people.
God, forgive our sins and make us new. Kyrie…

Week 3. Pour out your Spirit, God, Heal the brokenhearted.
Love, prepare our hearts to see your light. Kyrie…

Week 4. Grant us your mercy, God. Fill the poor with good things.
Guide our feet into your way of peace. Kyrie…


Child of Promise (Original song)

Child of promise, oh, child of hope, prophets spoke of you:
visions treasured but unfulfilled. Shall our dreams come true?
Help us wait for you.

Child of woman, oh, child of God, birthing us anew,
make a room, oh, make a womb, in our hearts for you.
Help us wait for you.

Child of patience, oh, child of pain, suffering ills we do,
heal, forgive and help us be gentle child, like you.
Help us wait for you.

Child of wonder, oh, child of joy, you make all things new.
Re-create us, come again like the morning dew.
Help us wait for you.

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