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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.
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.