In Praise of Green – an Ordinary Time Liturgy

Enjoy this stretch of green!  Here is a liturgy you can add to beef up your resources.  As always, feel free to adapt and change these prayers to suite your community.  If you use them in corporate worship settings please give a girl credit and include the address of this blog (©Jessica Gazzola, storiesandseason.wordpress.com) in your program, bulletin or liturgical text.  I would also love feedback.  Leave me a comment below or on Facebook

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photo by Claire TRESSE on flickr.com

In Praise of Green – A Eucharistic Prayer for Ordinary Time
text written by the Rev. Jessica Gazzola

Presider: Blessed are you, God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made.  It will become for us the bread of life.

ALL:  Blessed be God forever.

P/: Blessed are you, God of all creation.  Through your goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of human hands. It will become our spiritual drink.
ALL:  Blessed be God forever.

P/: Blessed are you, God of all creation.  Through your goodness we have these gifts of time, talent, and treasure to offer, gratefully given and the work of our human hands.  They will become your presence in the world.

ALL:  Blessed be God forever.

 

P/:   Let us pray… God of all creation,
may these gifts, offered and shared,
be like seeds scattered
that produce a harvest one hundred fold
for the sake of the world.
We pray this through the One who offered himself
as food to a starving world, Christ Jesus.

ALL:   Amen.

 

P:   My friends, the God of Love is always with you.     

A:        And also with you.

P:   Let us lift up our hearts.

A:        We lift them up to our God.
P:   Let us give thanks to the One who loves and sustains us.

A:   It is right to give God thanks and praise.

 

Prayer of Thanksgiving

It is indeed right and good to thank you, Fruitful God.

Out of darkness light is born;
out the depths spring life.
You gifted humanity with a garden planet,
surging with greens and blues.
Yet we sometime find ourselves surrounded by desert,
feeling barren and lost.
So you send us prophets and poets and seers
to point to the Source of life
surging just below the surface.

And so, from the greening desert,
we praise you with all of creation –
air, water, earth, fire –
singing of your greatness:

Sanctus: Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might. …

Living God,
You long for humanity fully alive,
so You gave us Christ Jesus
who reveals vibrant souls thought dead by the world
and blooming colors of community
where walls once blocked our view.
As tears wash the dust from our eyes
we see the power of hope in the dying seed
and the tenacity of spirit in vine and branches.

And so we gather around this table offering ourselves as living Sacraments.

Epiclesis

Hands are outstretched over the gifts

And we ask that You send your life-giving Spirit upon these gifts.
In the bread which we eat
and in the wine which we drink,
may She make us one with your Son, Jesus Christ,
in + body and blood given for the life of the world.

Institution Narrative

On the night before he died,

The priest takes the bread and raising it a little above the altar, continues

Jesus took bread, gave you thanks, broke the bread, gave it to his disciples, saying,
Take, eat: this is my body which is given for you. The priest genuflects

In the same way after supper he took the cup,

The priest takes the cup of wine and, raising it a little above the altar, continues.

again gave you thanks, gave the cup to his disciples, saying,

Take and drink this, all of you, this is the cup of the new and everlasting covenant, my blood which is poured out for you and for all. Do this in memory of me. The priests genuflects

Memorial Acclamation

Compassionate Parent,
we celebrate the memory of your Son, our brother.
People put him to death
but You would not let him wither away.
Christ is alive
and pushes through the frosty ground to newness
in every generation.

Deacon / presider:

Therefore we proclaim the mystery of faith.

All:

Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

 Presider:
Christ, our resurrection and hope,
appears to us in sidewalk cracks and broken hearts,
in gardens planted by aged hands and harvested by children.
Wherever flower and thorn,
courage and vulnerability,
life and death
grow inexplicably side by side
there Christ will be…

Until the day when all divisions are washed away,
and together we will rise in dignity
and turn our heads to the Sun
to become one in the light of God,
forever and ever.

Doxology

The priest takes the takes the cup of wine and bread lifting them up says:

(All:)

Through Christ, with Christ and in Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty God, now and for ever. Amen.

The Lord’s Prayer

Passing of the Peace (or following intercessions before EP)

Lamb of God

Presider:

This is the bread of life and the cup of salvation.

All:

We, though many, are one body for we all share in the one bread and in the one cup.

Communion

Prayer after Communion

Presider:

Harvest of Plenty,
From seeds buried in dark earth,
to tiny shoots of green
bearing unimaginable abundance –
we thank you for nourishing us with food for our souls.
Help us to trust your life as it unfolds around us.
Awaken us to the small miracles
that bear so much fruit for those with eyes to see.
With hearts full of gratitude, we pray through Christ Jesus.

All: Amen.

 

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A Prayer for Lent

I’m in the middle of Brene Brown’s book Rising Strong.  Its arrival is perfectly timed and every word rings true – reckoning with emotions, rumbling with the difficult and shadowy parts of our story, and discovering the revolution of rising to a life worth living in spite of fall after fall.  I didn’t think I would have paid Lent much mind this year except I can’t seem to avoid it; and this book is inviting me to dive headlong into something of a Lenten practice – nothing as benign as abstaining from chocolate – something entirely new.  As I try to sort out my relationship to Lent, I run into my complicated relationship with Christ.  Jesus lived in a way that reverberates through the centuries.  But I wonder, is he so unique?  Brown dedicates her book “to the brave and broken hearted who have taught us how to rise after a fall.  Your courage is contagious.”  I write this prayer to Jesus, just one example of these brave people, in my estimation.  A younger version of me may have considered this prayer heretical, but it’s where I stand in this moment. My prayer is for me, but it is also to and for all of the souls that seek to move beyond mere self-preservation to real life!

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photo by susan on flickr.com

You,
my brother, my model, my hope;
you who, like me,
contend with slippery lies
that say you need them to survive;
you who, like me,
face authorities unaware of the content of your soul;
you who, like me,
confound your family and make them wonder
how best to love you;

You embraced springtime,
in spite of the shadows falling on the path
or the death contraptions waiting in the holy city.
You washed the mirage of survival from your eyes
to see the truth of being alive;
You noticed the strings that rendered the authorities
puppets and toys;
You became a brother to humanity
and you made your home the world
because love lives in flesh and stone.

I do not need your sacrifice
or your righteous titles this Lent.
I just need to know that it can be done,
that you are not so different from me;
that lies, strings, and obligation are nothing to fear
and that death is but a mirror
that makes this moment brilliant and free.

Through your vulnerability,
you are rising strong
through me, with me and in me
In the unity of the Spirit of life
all glory and honor is yours,
Undying Truth,
today, tomorrow and forever.
Amen.

 

Lent

photo by Krisztina Felix on flickr.com

photo by Krisztina Felix on flickr.com

Lent is not tidy.  Days grow longer (the word “Lent” comes from “lengthen”).  The ground thaws, and the next thing we know, everything is filthy.  Our windows need washing, our temples need cleansing, the earth itself needs a good bath.  The English names for these months come from ancient words that reflect the need to roll up our sleeves this season: February (“purification”) and March (“the spirit of war”).  Good names.  Winter doesn’t leave without blustery battles that push things over and mess things up and even break things.  Lent, if we honestly face its fury, will leave the landscape littered with bits and pieces of ourselves.

Sometimes the only antidote is to take more of the poison.  And so on our foreheads we rub dirt: Eden gone to ashes, the dustbin emptied of a winter’s worth of soot, last year’s leaves riddles with worms, the broken earth turned by the plow, the dry earth thirsty for water to make it clay for a new creation.  And when Lent is done and the Passover arrives we’ll have water in abundance, water to bathe our feet and water to drown the demons and water to wash away the winter.  And, as Bishop Ambrose reminds us, even if we forget to fill the font, there’ll be water in abundance in our tears.

Peter Mazar[i]

Visit me here for inspiration and original prayers for your Lenten liturgies.  Ash Wednesday is February 18th!

Blessings of winter’s howl,
Jessica

[i] Quoted in Gabe Huck and Gerald T. Chinchar in Liturgy with Style and Grace (Archdioceses of Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 1998) 99.