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For a Threshold
a liturgical catechesis on blessing
John O’Donohue—a Celtic master of blessing—in his book To Bless the Space Between Us, talks about blessing being words for a threshold. Friends, in truth, every day is a threshold. But sometimes the thresholds are a little bit bigger.
This is one of them.
You stand at an end. And a beginning.
Blessings are threshold rituals meant to protect, to encourage, to challenge, to guide, and to sustain us through the journey of crossing a threshold.
And the thing is, thresholds often take a lot longer to cross than we think they will. The change comes in bits.
Last assignment turned in.
Applications are submitted.
A tassel dangles from your cap at graduation.
Your first day at your job.
Your diploma comes in the mail.
You have to learn names of coworkers and the people you serve.
The end of August comes, and you realize you’re not starting classes.
The change comes in bits, and sometimes unexpectedly.
And maybe for you, the end is the only clear part of this threshold.
Maybe you don’t know what beginning you’re stepping into yet.
That’s okay.
Today, we give you a blessing to protect, to encourage, to challenge, to guide, to sustain you as you go on the journey of crossing this threshold. We give you a blessing to remind you that you are not alone. Our hearts travel with you whatever you are stepping into next.
The ritual of blessing sees the current reality and pulls closer the reality we long for for you. It invokes the power of that Spirit already present and at work in the world and begs her to come a little closer.
In the act of blessing, we seek to say
“We see you. We know you
and we know the Spirit of Christ that lives in you.
Let us glimpse the future for a moment together.
Here is how we long for it to be.
May it be like this.
May you live into these things, these callings, these gifts.
May you be brought forward safely, and with courage and great joy.”
Our blessing goes with you.
Wherever this threshold takes you next.
Liturgy of the Month: April 2023
For Infertility
Lord
of Sarai
Of Hannah
Of Elizabeth
Lord of women
Who laugh at the face of hope
Who bargain and plead
Who were shown favor
When will it be my turn?
I have laughed
I have bargained and plead
Where is my favor?
Is this a failure on my part or on yours?
Do you sit with me and wait?
Do you see me?
Do you already know the end of this road?
Perhaps this is an invitation
To redefine what it means to be a mother
For mothers are more than child bearing women
Mothers are warriors
Mothers are caretakers
Mothers are advocates
I am already all those things
Help me to see my worth, already there
Lord of women
Who sit in tension
Who bask in joy
Who are afraid
Who wait
Be with me in these spaces
Validate my pain and my joy even when the world won’t
And make me the one
who Laughs
Who bargains and pleads
And who has received your favor anyways
One day soon.
Did you know during the month of April there is a week called Infertility Awareness Week? This week is of particular meaning for me because it amplifies a huge part of my story.
My husband, Dylan, and I rang in New Year’s of 2020 with a resolution of striving to bring into the world our first child. We began the process of trying and praying for a baby at the beginning of 2021 with high hopes, only to have those hopes crushed when, after a year of trying, we still had no signs of an incoming baby. Over the course of the next two years we faced multiple infertility diagnoses, failed medicated treatment cycles, and crushed hope after crushed hopes. Quickly the sneaky and safer feeling of doubt began to be what we clung most readily to.
By March of 2022 we had experienced 6 failed medicated cycles, 2 failed IUIs, 1 chemical pregnancy, a failed surgery, and multiple instances of defeated hopes. At which point our doctor told us we would very likely never become pregnant.
I wish I could tell you that throughout this process we were seeing and meeting Jesus on our walk. I wish I could tell you that we entered our very last treatment cycle in March with boundless hope.
But the truth is I felt further from God then, than I ever had before. My hope was on the floor. It was stubbornness and a dislike with hearing the word “no” which drove me forward that month fully assuming it would fail.
Settling into a road filled with doubt felt so much safer than settling into one shrouded in hope.
If you know me or listen to Liturgical Shenanigans, you know that we now have a child, Izzy. A baby conceived in doubt. And while you might think this means our journey was over- happy ending achieved- it’s not so simple. Every single day of that pregnancy we lived in fear fully expecting not to walk away with a baby by the end.
In the walk of infertility, there is a taught line we balanced of doubt and hope. Grief and joy. Fear and expectation. This liturgy was written in an attempt to honor that line and give permission to be deep in all the feelings.
1 in 6 couples experience infertility. 1 in 4 experience pregnancy loss. If this is you, hear me: your feelings are valid. I see you. And I hope you feel seen in this liturgy. If this is not you well- do you know 5 people? One of them is impacted by this tough reality. I hope this liturgy empowers you to see them.
Please engage this liturgy as heavily or lightly as you need. Be that alone. In community. With a therapist. With your fertility clinic. Your needs and your story matter.
❤️ Maddie
Liturgy of the Month: March 2023
I hold close to my chest today
The resilient name of the Trinity
The Three in One and One in Three
In whom I am both finding
and am being found anew
The Waiter’s Apron
Written by Jackson Nickolay
A Recontextualization of St Patrick’s Breastplate
For the Worship for Workers project with Fuller Seminary and The Porters Gate
I hold close to my chest today
The resilient name of the Trinity
The Three in One and One in Three
In whom I am both finding
and am being found anew
As the day stretches before me
I go forward by the strength
and in the love of Christ
In the commute from my home to the work that awaits me
Christ before me
In the narrowly missed collision with an unseen customer
Christ behind me
In the grace offered after another spilled drink
Christ in me
In the tray nearly dropped but quickly caught
Christ beneath me
In the awning over the patio protecting myself and those I serve from sun and rain
Christ above me
In my coworkers helping me prepare a late order
Christ on my right and on my left
In the too brief break taken on milk crates in the back alley as I piece myself together again,
Christ when I sit down and when I get up
In the customer who doesn’t even look at me as they place their order
Christ in the heart of all to whom I speak
In the regular, confessing their frustration and fear
Christ in the mouth of each who speaks to me
In the last minute order before we close for the night
Christ in the ear of each who hear me
In the tired goodbyes at shift’s end
Christ in every eye that sees me
In the collapse, the rest, the reset before I do it all again
Christ with me
I hold close to my chest today
The resilient name of the Trinity
The Three in One and One in Three
In whom I am both finding
And am being found anew
You can find the song which this liturgy was written in partnership with – as well as other resources from the Worship for Workers project – at this link here.
Liturgy of the Month: February 2023
“A Blessing for an ADHDer”
by Hannah Barker Nickolay
Blessed are you,
the scattered—
in the moments
in the moments when you forget
your appointments, deadlines, obligations, schedule
your keysbackpackfolderpurseglassesdriverslicenselunchkeys
your thought mid-sentence
in the times when you can’t stop
your leg from bouncing
your fingers from fidgeting
your thoughts from jump-dash-pound-run-screeching
on the days
when your limbs are like cannonballs exploding
when your thoughts are like twelve songs playing at the same time
when your words are like pop rocks
when your tongue is like a record skipping
when your skin wants more pressure or less pressure
but it can’t tell you which one
Blessed are you, ADHDer,
when you feel like too much
even for yourself.
Blessed are you, the scattered,
for you shall be gathered.
Found.
Settled, gently. Like glitter in a snowglobe.
A moment of calm.
Ready to dance and spin in the next storm.
* * * * *
Check out this week’s podcast to hear a discussion on this blessing, and check back next week for some further thoughts on ADHD and liturgy.
On Praying for My Inner Critics
This post is a reflection of January’s Liturgy of the Month. Give it a look here before reading this post.
What’s your relationship with your inner critics like? For some of us, it’s a journey to get to the point where we can acknowledge their existence. That inner belief of not-enough-ness isn’t just an objective truth, it’s a judgement. Beyond that, it’s a judgement coming at me from within. From a part that seems to be an internal saboteur. Some might appropriately call it an inner Judas. Betrayer. Traitor. And I think Dante was onto something when he reserved the innermost circle of hell for perpetrators of such treachery.
What do we do with these parts? I suspect the most common advice is to “stop listening to that voice.” We’re told to ignore it. To reject it.
“It’s an imprint of your judgemental parent.”
“It’s the devil!”
“It’s just your fear trying to hold you back.”
Whatever it is, it’s not you, and it’s not good. It deserves to be shut down, ignored, dismissed, rejected. Pretend it’s not there.
For those that have turned to that strategy - has it worked?
I’ve found so much more goodness in the recognition that we are called to be a people of reconciliation, not fragmentation - and that includes our inner community, as well! Christ’s love extends to all of us, and Christ’s call to us is to love as Christ does.
So that brings up the question this liturgy asks - how do I love and forgive the parts of me that I’d rather toss into Dante’s Ninth Circle of Hell?
Too harsh?
It’s not easy to make friends with parts that have caused you pain, or maybe even caused others pain. Sabotaged relationships. Pushed others away, hurting them before they could hurt me, because I’m not worth their time. Just a burden.
This work, growing in compassionate curiosity has been at the core of my healing work. Some wrestle with applying this to others - my biggest struggle is turning it inward. That first step - even being open to facing these parts of us we hide, we loathe, we try to wish away… with an open hand and an open mind - that first step is the biggest and scariest.
I’ve heard this work called shadow work. Parts work. My friend Marty calls it, “taking your dragons to tea.” The realization that our parts - even those that seem to be our enemy - are for us can be life-changing. Those harsh critics are trying to take care of you, protect you, shield you, push you, and they typically came into being after a particularly painful time that they don’t want you to feel the pain of ever again.
What might it look like to invite the Holy Spirit into your inner dialogue, to make a bit of space for your critics not to be their punching bag, but to be a compassionate healer?
If you’re looking to do this work, I strongly recommend seeking out a licensed therapist to do this work with you. You can ask your doctor for a referral, or head to a site like Psychology Today to search for local therapists that may be a good fit for you and your journey of healing and growth.
Liturgy of the Month: January 2023
This visual liturgy is posted here in a slideshow format for you to move through at your own pace. Check out this week’s podcast to hear a discussion on this liturgy, and check back later this month for some further thoughts on inviting our inner critics into the healing and growth work of our liturgical lives.
Liturgy of the Month: December
Storytelling is powerful. For some, it serves as an act of speaking against silence. In sharing our stories, we demand to be heard. We give voice to the events of our life and make meaning of them for ourselves and others.
I have recently found my storytelling voice in the art of crafting liturgy. In doing so I am able to share pieces of myself with God and others. Below, is a lament I crafted for women abused by clergy. Within the lament, I share bits and pieces of my own story as a survivor of clergy abuse. Thus, it needs a content warning. If you are in a space to hear or read it, I hope that it speaks to you. If you are not, that is absolutely okay. Be gentle with yourself in this space. Additionally, my preferred pronouns are she/her, so I speak as a woman to women in this liturgy. This does not mean that this story is one that only resonates with women’s experiences. This can happen to any gendered (or non gendered) person. Perhaps engaging the liturgy below means inserting your own preferred pronoun. Maybe it means re-narrating it a bit to fit your experience. I invite you to please do so.
I chose to write about this particular experience as a way to participate in my own healing and, hopefully, in the healing work of others who share this experience. I have wailed it in private, read it among friends, and even explored what does and does not still resonate as I continue along in my journey.
Additionally, survivors are often silenced. This lament was one way I rebel against this injustice. The process of narrating our life may overwhelm people, particularly if what we share is a painful experience. Which is why I gave a content warning. It is okay if not all people are ready to engage with all stories. This does not mean, however, that our stories are too much. Nor does it mean that we are in the wrong for sharing them. Even the Bible is full of stories of joy, blessing, darkness, pain, abuse and grief. It is filled with stories of men and women who refuse to be forced into silence. Those stories are worthy of being old and dwelled in. Just as God gives voice to God’s people in the biblical narrative, so too does God give us voice. We are also worth listening to.
I wonder what stories you feel called to tell. Are there moments you’ve experienced that storytelling would serve as a practice of healing for you? Stories you’d like to share in celebration?
Maybe the liturgy below is healing for you. Maybe it’s the first time you’ve thought about liturgy this way. Whatever it means for you, may you engage your experience of it with grace and curiosity.
Love, Maddie.
A Lament for Women abused by Clergy
Content Warning: Clergy Abuse
Reverend
Preacher
Pastor
Prophet
Man of God
Lord who molds us
Are we still in your image even when we defile it?
From the pulpit he proclaimed that we are
Blessed
Sinful
Forgiven
Worthy
Called
In private he proclaimed that we were
Lying
Misreading
An attentive secret keeper
His best friend
A good girl
We feel
Marked as victims
Skin burning where he touched us
Dirty
Lord, do we still need you to make us clean if we didn’t ask for the stains in the first place?
Are sins done to us also ours?
Do we repent the sins of someone else?
Do we still need to die to rise again with Christ?
Where were you?
When we were screaming.
El Shema
God who hears Hagar
May we know you hear us too
Empower us to listen when you respond
Proclaiming that we are
Clean
Healed
Good
Survivors
And still in your image.
Liturgy of the Month: November 2022
I love the change of seasons. I’ve lived in the upper Great Lakes region for all my life, and I have loved watching spring leap into summer, fade into fall, and rest into winter. One of my favorite moments in the yearly cycle was seeing the days shorten. Ever since I was a little kid, I loved when that particular autumn Sunday arrived and we set our clocks back an hour and left behind the arrogant artificial construct of “daylight savings,” (as if daylight was something one can save). That day still holds excitement for me. I love the moment when darkness has arrived, and you think it’s already 6:30pm but discover it’s still 5:30pm and there’s so much more of the day left to you!
This is a feeling that I’m told is not shared by all. While there are some whose hearts also thrill at the darkening of days, there are others for whom the lessening of daylight hours carries a much weightier effect. With the arrival of early sunsets comes the cold, the fear of the dark, the realities of seasonal depression, and the often desolate and isolating months of winter.
So, I wrote this liturgy to try to find a way to hold these experiences of the darkening of days in tandem with each other. I am fascinated with calendrical rites and how the observance of a ritual which is tied to a yearly occurrence can ground us in our own day to day rhythms and wanted to write my own.
I wrote this liturgy to be enacted by a group lit by candlelight. I highly recommend this element. Even if you’re reading it by yourself, take a moment to light a candle and hold back the night for a moment with that small bit of light.
Thank you for taking the time to read this liturgy. If you would like to hear more about this liturgy, the crew at Wayfolk Arts recorded a whole episode about it on our Podcast “Liturgical Shenanigans.” You can listen to that conversation here:
A Liturgy for the Darkening of Days
To be enacted on the evening of the first Saturday of November; the day before the end of daylight savings time. This liturgy assumes a winter season in which it grows colder and the light lessens.
A Word Concerning Preparation
This rite is best practiced within the context of a family or a small group of friends. The location should be the home of the HOST leading the enactment.
Prior to the enactment of the liturgy a candle must be obtained to be given to each of the participants. It is also advised that the host make some meal or dessert to be eaten after the ritual. Bonus points for having it be slowly cooking in a crockpot so that the smells of food on the way permeate the ritual.
The room must be lit by two separate light sources to enable the ENACTORS to turn off one source of light and then the other. The room should not be in complete darkness until the second light is extinguished.
Each of the ENACTORS must bring a blanket of their own to be given to someone else during the ritual.
The blankets, candles, and matches are set at each spot in a circle of seats to enable the ENACTORS to easily access them.
HOST:
Beloved Lord,
We gather tonight in gratitude
for your many gifts to us.
Gifts of Warmth and Friendship
Gifts of Harvest and of Sustenance
Gifts of Light and Gifts of Darkness.
ALL:
Remember to us now creator Lord
The stories of your goodness in our lives.
The HOST invites those gathered into a time of storytelling, in which the ENACTORS each turn to their neighbor and tell each other a story from their summers or a story of joy in the past few months.
In the fullness of time, the HOST welcomes the ENACTORS to wrap up their stories.
HOST:
For each of these moments of joy and connection
We give thanks to you lord God
ALL:
May they recall us to warmth in the cold months ahead.
READER 1:
Lord we are gathered here ahead of a new season of coming darkness.
We know that you have made the moon to mark the seasons;
You caused the Sun to know its time for setting.
You make Darkness and wrap the world in night.
We thank you that you have guided all creation into order.
We thank you for the goodness in all the seasons of your creation.
ENACTOR 1 rises and switches off the first set of lights putting the room into semi-darkness.
READER 2:
Lord who forms light and makes darkness,
We also name the pain of this season.
As the winter months take us further from summer stories,
The dark becomes a more present companion.
With the dark
Comes cold, comes stress, comes sadness, comes loss.
Hold our spiraling thoughts, our depression, our longing for brighter days,
And show us the way through to the light of a new morning.
ENACTOR 2 rises and prepares to switch off the second set of lights
READER 3:
Lord of Light,
We offer our worries, our sadness,
our weariness, our fear of the dark to you.
In this time of silence,
we ask that you hear the prayers of our hearts.
ENACTOR 2 switches off the second set of lights putting the room in darkness.
Silence is kept.
In the fullness of time, the HOST lights their candle. Then reads…
HOST:
In our distress we have cried out, Lord.
And you have heard us.
We thank you that no darkness is too great for you.
Nothing we have held before you is surprising or new to you.
Nothing we have named is greater than your love for us.
Even if we fear this coming time of darkness,
We know you are a God who makes their home in thick darkness.
Darkness doesn’t threaten you.
And there is no darkness that separates us from you.
The HOST starts to hum a familiar tune (i.e. Amazing Grace, In the Bleak Midwinter, the a beloved theme from a film, or any meditative tune the group knows). As the ENACTORS join the humming, each candle is passed and used to light the match which lights the next candle and on until the all the candles are lit.
READER 4:
It is written in Isaiah 60 that
God’s bright glory has risen for you.
The whole earth is wrapped in darkness,
all people sunk in deep darkness,
But God rises on you,
his sunrise glory breaks over you.
Nations will come to your light,
kings to your sunburst brightness.
Look up! Look around!
Watch as they gather, watch as they approach you:
Your sons coming from great distances,
your daughters carried by their nannies.
When you see them coming you’ll smile—big smiles!
Your heart will swell and, yes, burst!
This is the word of the Lord
ALL:
Thanks be to God
HOST:
Lord, this season is one of darkness.
But we do not enter it alone.
We thank you for the gift of friends.
We thank you for those who will journey beside us these cold months,
Whose company, conversation, and love
Will wrap around us, warm our hearts, and keep us looking for the light.
The HOST takes the blanket they brought, drapes it over the shoulders of another ENACTOR, and speaks the following phrase.
HOST:
From my heart to yours.
The ENACTOR who was given a blanket then takes the blanket they brought, drapes it over the shoulders of another ENACTOR, and speaks the above phrase. This process is repeated until all ENACTORS have been given a blanket.
HOST:
May our hearts be filled throughout this season,
ALL:
That we may live in love with each other
and with your creation.
May these gifts of light and of warmth,
help to keep us steady in the coming months.
That we may hold each other up when we stumble.
May these blankets from one friend’s home to another
remind us of the community we have in each other,
That we may reach out to each other
when the darkness seeks to overcome.
And may these candles remind us
That our lord is present with us in darkness and in light,
That we may know we are never alone.
Amen
With that the HOST invites all to eat the prepared food and drink. The lights are turned back on and the gathered group shares time in community until the wee hours of the morning. They get an extra hour of sleep after all.
Liturgy of the Month: October 2022
Prayer for Self
Adonai eloheinu,
You have made me
and all that I see
and each nephesh, each being, I encounter this day.
Today I remember that you are Lord.
Your hand is sovereign upon my life.
You are a slow and steady heartbeat.
Today I remember that you have created me
to sing,
to love words,
to love others too deeply,
to listen,
to want to fill other people’s hearts and bellies,
to not fear tears or darkness,
for that is where you are,
to seek beauty,
to love the outcast,
to call my neighbors by name,
to look people in the eye,
to use my voice,
but to learn to speak your Word,
to trust you enough to allow myself to be weak,
to need the help of others and yourself,
to seek the King,
to worship,
to stand, jaw set, heart soft, arms open, not backing down,
to be fierce like my mama,
to see your world with eyes of delight like my papa,
to be part of your church.
May I walk through my days
with the weight of your grace on my shoulders like a shawl,
ever ready to place it on the shoulders of another,
but never forgetting what it feels like upon my own.
Raba emunatekha. Great is your faithfulness.
In the name of Christ.
Amen.
Liturgy of the Month: July 2022
Blessed are you oh Lord
Who
Created us to choose
Roe V. Wade
Blessed are you oh Lord
Who
Created us to choose
Blessed are women
Who make
impossible choices
Easy choices
Conflicted choices
Limited choices
Painful choices
Blessed are mothers
Who
Didn’t want to make a choice
Had no choice
Fought to be
Didn’t ask to be
Long to be
Blessed are you oh Lord
Who
Created us to choose
May we be reminded
Of our created intentions
And fight for a world
Who empowers us to live as such
Amen.
Her Water Jar
“Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city” (John 4:28)
“Then the woman left her water jar
and went back to the city” (John 4:28)
These words in this passage have always stuck out to me.
The woman left her water jar.
Tucked away after this metaphorical theological discourse about worship and water and things to come and things that are now is this beautiful and simple image.
An image that sums up everything that has happened in this conversation and hints to the transformation beginning to happen in the woman.
The woman left her water jar.
Getting water was the whole reason she was there in the first place. Verse seven specifically tells us she came to draw water.
Then Jesus starts talking to her. And he tells her of this living water she can get. Water that will completely quench her thirst. She only needs to drink this water once. After that she’ll have a spring of water inside her. Ever flowing.
She doesn’t quite get it at first.
But they continue talking, and eventually, she starts to wonder. Wait. Is this the guy?
And Jesus says, “Yep. Yep, I am.”
And she leaves her water jar.
She doesn’t get the water she was there for in the first place. Something bigger is happening.
Her act of leaving the water jar hints to us, the witnesses of this story, that, maybe, she’s going to drink that living water that Jesus, the Christ, is offering her. Maybe she will no longer be thirsty.
Maybe she doesn’t need the water jar anymore.
* * * * *
This image holds such power, but it is easy to miss when you’re reading this story. It’s seven almost throwaway words in the middle of a verse. The writer of the gospel of John doesn’t come back to this image or have a character point it out. It’s not naturally highlighted in a reading of the passage.
But it’s there.
And it’s there for a purpose, so we should take notice.
That’s where storytelling, performance, and enactment of biblical texts are helpful.
They help us notice these small moments of simple yet deep theological power that we might otherwise miss if we were only reading it.
That’s the kind of storytelling we, Wayfolk Arts, are trying to do here.
Storytelling that helps us notice that the woman left her water jar.
Liturgy of the Month: June 2022
Lord of those who wait
Wait for the phone to ring
Wait for information
Wait for test results
For Those Who Wait
Lord of those who wait
Wait for the phone to ring
Wait for information
Wait for test results
Wait for homecomings
Wait for answers
Wait for peace
Wait for anger
Wait for love
Wait for solutions
Wait for next steps
Wait for power
Wait for blows
How long?
How long will we wonder?
How long will we imagine scenarios before they arrive?
How long will we sit here, not knowing what comes next?
Lord, you move slowly here.
Please see our waiting.
May we know that we are loved by you
And are invited to love ourselves
In this space
Of unknowns
Of maybes
Of no after no
Of the unexpected yes
Of twists we did not see coming
Of heartbreak
Of shocks to our system
Of fight
Of flight
Of fear
Of expectation
Lord of answers
Please give one soon.
And in the meantime
Make us people who trust
Actively
And when we doubt
See us here, too.
a seal upon your arm
We have been signed
with your name.
“Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm” - Song of Songs 8:6
We have been signed
with your name.
We bear it
in the way we pass by a tired mother at the grocery story,
the way we cook a meal.
We bear it
on our arms as we carry our neighbor’s moving boxes,
as we hand our credit cards to waiters and checkout clerks.
We bear it
in the words we speak to others
and the thoughts with which we fill our homes.
We bear it
even when we’ve forgotten we’re doing so.