Talking about death and dying is often frightening for people, or it is seen as morbid and inappropriate. But these conversations can be a gift to loved ones who are grieving us when we are gone. In the Bible, Moses connects the Israelites to God, and his death could have easily been the end of the covenant, but God had Moses prepare for his own death by choosing a new leader and appointing him before all the people. In what ways have you prepared for death? Note that later on in the Deuteronomy passage, God tells Moses of the people’s future “terrible troubles” (Deut. 31:21). There is no way to prepare for death and dying that will erase grief or even anger at God or your loved one. Loss will remain a terrible trouble. Just as in Psalm 23, the psalmist is not transported away from the valley of the shadow of death, nor is the psalmist rescued from the presence of their enemies⸺the struggle remains and must be journeyed through. But we can learn to see God present in the midst of trouble, and we can seek out the goodness and mercy that follows us, always.

This is a skit based on the 3rd and 4th chapters of Jonah, with some notes for how to incorporate the 1st and 2nd chapters into a worship service as well. I have preached regularly on Jonah, but decided to do the whole book in one service, ending with a skit instead of a sermon as the whole service is designed to pull us into the story. I offer the skit (and the brief outline of the first two parts of worship) to any who might want to use it!

Tonight, we remember Jesus’ last acts before he was arrested and sentenced to death. He knew his death was coming, even if his disciples denied it. And he chose to spend that time in service, in fellowship, in prayer. We do the same tonight, as we listen to the story once more. We continue, as we have throughout Lent, to follow Peter’s point of view. “Peter is named ‘Cephas,’ which means ‘the rock.’ In this story, we imagine that God’s grace reshapes him in the way that water softens the rough edges of stone. When we, like Peter, are reluctant and resistant to receiving love, can we remember that streams of mercy are never ceasing? Will we be reshaped by grace?” Let us enter this story anew and see where it takes us.

Lighting candles for the dead is a ritual that is common in many religious traditions and cultures and has been long practiced in Christianity, despite its lack of Biblical origins. There is, however,  a story of God appearing as a pillar of fire to guide wanderers through the wilderness: lighting their path after the sun set and urging them forward, even over unfamiliar terrain. I have had many pregnancy losses and lost many people close to me, and still the terrain of grief is unfamiliar and lonely and even cold. I imagine a pillar of fire guiding me, illuminating the next step ahead, and warming us with the love that persists in spite of death.  

Pour out your Holy Spirit, to bless this gift of water and we who receive it. May it nurture us, even if we feel impossibly buried in the earth. As we drink in this water, help us break through our seed coat. Transform us, making the deserts and wilderness within us like Eden, that we might join in Christ’s gardening work, tending to the world around us.

We might still be waiting for Jesus to call us by name, to call us to hope and new life after this horrible tragedy. So let us keep waiting, let us hang on to the color of the wheat, let us find comfort in our own knowledge that death cannot quench love.

I wrote this communion liturgy to be honest about the strangeness of these times but also to celebrate those moments when we feel the Spirit pouring out over us. Even now she is offering us abundant grace. Can we perceive it?

Aaron and I have moved to a new church, meaning we also have a new house. As we have struggled with such grief especially this last year, we wanted to bless our new home, to claim the space for good. It will be years before everything is unpacked enough for a house warming party. So we decided to ask our friends and family to come and bless our house now, knowing their presence will make it more a home than unpacking anyway. What follows was created by me using liturgy and inspired by conversation led by Rev. Dr. Suzanne Duchesne for a group she calls the Luscious Ladies of Liturgy.

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel commanded. God is waking us up, now, today. How many of us are still asleep, trapped in nightmares that obscure the dream God has for us? Or how many of us are still asleep, too comfortable in our own dreams to pay attention to the life God calls us to? We have forgotten God's commandments, wrapped up in the sleep. Let us respond as Joseph did, turning our hearts to God:

We call this day Good Friday, but what is good about it? It is a day in which the weight of the suffering absorbs our own suffering, where we see how much pain is borne in one body, where everything, everything is subsumed in the darkness. We see brokenness, in the body on the cross, in the betrayal of Judas, the denial of Peter, the mocking by the soldiers. We see the brokenness in ourselves.

Who would we be in this story? What brokenness is ours tonight? Where do we see ourselves?