We’re always calling God.
Where are you God?
Why don’t you pick up?
The phone rings and rings,
echoing in that heavenly chamber.
We check the number,
this has got to be right.
Finally God’s answering machine clicks in.
We hear God’s voice,
“Why are you calling me?
I’m standing right beside you.”
This Mother’s Day is different, God.
So many cannot visit their
beloved mothers or grandmothers,
or the women who have been like mothers.
People feel so lonely because their hands
are not held, their arms cannot hug.
Other families have had too much togetherness,
and the past year has been tumultuous
with tantrums and fights and frayed tempers,
and too many words said too quickly.
Great God: our community gathers in spirit
through the marvels of technology to give thanks together.
Thank you for medical professionals and staff
who work so faithfully in hospitals, clinics and nursing homes…
give them strength, courage and personal protective equipment.
Thank you for the diligence of scientists working on a vaccine,
and the way so many have ramped up the production of essential supplies.
Thank you for storekeepers and clerks,
farmers and truck drivers,
Jesus died. He was buried.
On the third day he rose.
Thank you, God, for hope
when hope was lost
and for life when death had won.
In these pandemic times
when so many are suffering and dying
resurrect within our world
the faith and hope and love
we need to survive.
Jesus, Saviour, hear our Good Friday prayer.
As human beings stagger under the weight
of a worldwide pandemic,
we turn to you, bearer of the pain of the world.
You woke that Friday morning in captivity,
and so we see your face in all who are imprisoned;
hear our prayer for those in jail,
who cannot escape contagion in close quarters.
We see your face in all who are unjustly accused;
hear our prayer for those who tell the truth about this virus,
Today is a day unlike other days,
a Thursday of mysteries,
where we remember your final meal with your friends.
Taking a towel, you washed their feet.
Knowing what was to come,
and what you had to suffer,
you instructed them to love one another.
You told them, ”Peace I leave with you,
Do not let your hearts be troubled,
and do not let them be afraid.”
On this Palm Sunday, things are different.
No children waving palm branches in processions,
no collective singing of hosannas, loud hosannas,
no exultant crowds, here or anywhere.
The streets are quiet.
What resonates is the image of you, Jesus,
weeping over Jerusalem,
crying for a people surrounded by enemies,
who do not know the things that make for peace.
Dearly beloved:
We are gathered here today in the sight of God,
under this spring sky, to lay (name) to rest.
For everything there is a season,
and a time for every purpose under heaven.
There’s a time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pick up what is planted,
a time to laugh and a time to weep.
Today is a time to say good-bye.
Almighty God,
we come to you filled to the brim with sorrow
because our loved one, (name), has died.
We can hardly absorb this fact.
This time of quarantine and social distancing
has meant that not everyone was here
who wanted to be here.
We may have different feelings about
the care that was given
or was unable to be given in the hospital.
I am a Mennonite pastor currently teaching theology at Conrad Grebel University College in Waterloo, Ontario. I’ve served congregations in Ontario and most recently, Alberta.
I love to write and to lead worship! If you are finding my writing helpful, I would love to hear from you! Feel free to use or adapt the material here, it is all written by me. If printing material, please credit “Copyright Carol Penner www.leadinginworship.com” (and say whether you modified it). If publishing, please contact me for permission. Contact me at carol@leadinginworship.com
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