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An Easter Prayer by Karl Barth

27 Sunday Mar 2016

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karl barth

Here is an Easter prayer taken from Fifty Prayers by Karl Barth (Westminster John Knox Press 2008, kindle edition):

Lord God, our Father, you are the light in which there is no darkness. And now you have kindled in us a light that can never be extinguished and that will ultimately drive out all darkness. You are the love that knows no coldness. And now you have loved even us and freed us to love you and each other. You are the life that mocks death. And now you have given us access to this eternal life. You have done all this in Jesus Christ, your Son, our brother.

Do not let us – let none of us – remain dull and indifferent to your gift and revelation. Let us on this Easter morning see at least something of the riches of your goodness; let it enter into our hearts and minds, and let it enlighten us, uphold us, comfort us, and admonish us!

None of us is a great Christian; rather, we are all very small Christians. But your grace is sufficient for us. Awaken us to the small joy and thankfulness that we are capable of, the timid faith that we bring , the incomplete obedience that we cannot refuse – to the hope in greatness, wholeness, and completeness that you have prepared for us in the death of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and that you have promised us in his resurrection from the dead. We ask that this hour may serve that purpose. Amen.

Easter in the Belly of Nothingness

26 Saturday Mar 2016

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Jesus' body

Here is a timely prayer by Walter Brueggemann from his book Prayers for a Privileged People (Abingdon Press 2008).

Easter in the Very Belly of Nothingness

Death will be all right for us when it comes. But dying is another matter — so slow, so painful, so humiliating.

Death will be a quick turn, the winking of an eye, but dying turns and twists and waits and teases.

We have not died, but we know about dying: We watch the inching pain of cancer, the oozing ache of alienation, the tears of stored up hurt.

We can smell the dying of bombs and shells,  of direct hit and collateral damage, of napalm spread thin and even of cities turned craters, of Agent Orange that waits years to show, and lives turned to empty stare.

We watch close or distant; we brace and stiffen, and grow cynical or uncaring.

And death wins — we, robbed of vitality, brought low by failed hope, lost innocence, emptied childhood, and stillness. 

We keep going, but barely; we gather at the grave, watching the sting and the victory of dread.

But you stir late Saturday; we gather early Sunday with balm and embracing, close to the body. waiting for the smell but not; dreading the withered site… but not; cringing love lost… but not here.

Not here… but risen, gone, awakened, alive!

The new creation stirs beyond the weeping women; O death… no sting! O grave… no victory! O silence… new song! O dread… new dance! O tribulation… now overcome!

O Friday God — Easter the failed city, Sunday the killing fields. And we, we shall dance and sing, thank and praise, into the night that holds no more darkness.

 

On Controlling Our Borders

05 Friday Dec 2014

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There is a lot on the news about immigration reform lately. So I thought this prayer from Walter Brueggemann, On Controlling Our Borders, was fitting (and challenging):

Jesus–crucified and risen–draws us into his presence again, 

The one who had nowhere to lay his head,
no safe place,
no secure home,
no passport or visa,
no certified citizenship. 
We gather around him in our safety, security, and well-being, and fret about “illegal immigrants”.
We fret because they are not like us and refuse our language. We worry that there are so many of them and there crossings do not stop. We are unsettled because it is our tax dollars that sustain them and provide services. We feel the hype about closing borders and heavy fines, because we imagine that our life is under threat.
And yet, as you know very well, we, all of us–early or late–are immigrants from elsewhere;
we are glad for cheap labor and seasonal workers to do tomatoes and apples and oranges to our savoring delight. And beyond that, even while we are beset by fears and aware of pragmatic costs, we know very well that you are the God who welcomes strangers, who loves aliens and protects sojourners. 
As always, we feel the tension in the slippage between the deeper truth of our faith and the easier settlements of our society.
You do not ask for an easy way out, but for courage and honesty and faithfulness. Give us ease in the presence of those unlike us; give us generosity amid demands of those in need, help us to honor those who trespass as you forgive our trespasses.
You are the God of all forgiveness. By your gracious forgiveness transpose us into agents of your will, that our habits and inclinations may more closely follow your majestic lead, that our lives may joyously conform to your vision of the new world. 
We pray in the name of your holy Son, even Jesus.

A Friday Prayer by Walter Brueggemann

15 Saturday Nov 2014

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Crucified_Christ_with_Virgin_St_JohnI enjoy reading the prayers of Walter Brueggemann. They help to give me a voice to talk to God in a profoundly honest way, about things that I often do not think to pray about. Here is a prayer from his book Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth (Fortress Press, 2003); the title of the prayer is “Friday is Your Day of Entry” (page 125)

Giver of good gifts, we give you hearty thanks…that it is Friday.

We say, without guilt, “Thank God It’s Friday!”

Partly, as we come to Friday, along with out culture, we are into week-ends of self-indulgence. We have worked hard and are ready to take a break and rest from our labors. We wait for a moment when we need not pay attention to the steady demands with which we live, caring not at all for the world, or for our neighbor, or our duty.

Give us the mercy to move Friday beyond “the week-end.” Partly as we move to Friday we are ready for Sabbath rest, when we rest as we imagine you to rest. It is clear to us in our best pondering that our lives are made for rest and not for work. So give us the simplicity to put ourselves down in your rest, whereby we may receive back our true selves by drawing close to you.

But mainly, as we come to Friday, we know in our deepest places that Friday is your day of entry into the hurt and hate of the world, your day of bottomless weakness where we have seen you allied with the world in its deepest disorder. We know you to be a Friday God without the honors of omnipotence. And so we pray that you will “Friday us” into the very weakness where we may receive our new life from you.

We pray in the name of your Friday Child. Amen.