a community creating for the relentless return of Sunday
submitted by Michael Morgan, organist, Central Presbyterian Church, Atlanta, Georgia; seminary musician, Columbia Theological Seminary; and author of the Psalter for Christian Worship
Now that T-Fig is a mere 10 days away, it’s time to get serious. What are you thinking for transfiguration this year? What phrases do you want to start working with? What seeds are you hoping will bud into new liturgy? What fig-ments (hahaha) do you want to build on?
I know, I know, it’s still only the 11th day of Christmas, but some of us have to work really far ahead. Whether it’s because we have a lot of volunteers involved and they need more time to create, or we’re trying hard to do new creative things that always somehow seem to require more work, or our brains just need the lead time to let things simmer, it’s time to look forward in faith…toward everyone’s favorite holy day, Transfiguration. Every year, the same story of the shiny Jesus and the whole Moses-Elijah-crazy-Peter-dwellings-falling-on-our-faces-overshadowed-by-clouds-voice-from-the-sky thing. So…what are you thinking about for T-Fig? How can we experience the holy in this story this year? What creative ways–music, liturgy, movement, art, etc–can help us encounter God on this Sunday before Lent?
submitted by Rev. Andy James, First Presbyterian Church, Whitestone, New York
God of light,
you have revealed your very self to us in your son Jesus Christ,
your one Word made flesh, who lived among us, full of grace and truth.
Open us to your revelation once again,
that in the words of your holy scripture
we might know your presence and follow in your light always.
Amen.
submitted by Rev. Andy James, pastor, First Presbyterian Church, Whitestone, New York
(This communion prayer immediately follows the singing of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and so alludes to some of its phrases.)
The Lord be with you.
And also with you.
Lift up your hearts.
We lift them up to the Lord.
Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
It is right to give our thanks and praise.
Lord, we greet you this happy night,
for you have been at work in our world throughout all time.
You made all things and called them good.
You claimed your people Israel,
freed them from the bondage of Egypt,
and journeyed with them through the wilderness to the promised land.
You sent prophets to call your people back to you.
Then in the fullness of time you sent your Son Jesus,
Immanuel, born the King of Angels,
your Word in flesh appearing.
He was one of us and lived with us,
giving up all his glory for our sake to make us whole.
And yet you raised him up again
to overcome the power of death and live a new life.
Still we wait for the day when we too will share the fullness of life in him and with him.
And so with the faithful of all the ages, we sing the praise and glory of your name:
(all sing “He Came Down,” Cameroon/WGRG The Iona Community)
And so, O God, come among us tonight.
Show us your presence in this bread and this cup,
and make this bread we break and this cup we bless the body and blood of Christ.
By the power of your Holy Spirit,
unite us with Christ and all who share this feast,
just as you send us out to be his presence in and for your world.
Give us courage to be your people,
to show your justice, grace, mercy, peace, and love,
and to be a part of your transformation of our world
until the day when the baby whose birth we celebrate tonight
comes again in peace
and we sing your praise and glory forever.
Amen.
No one wants to look ahead right now–and many of us aren’t really capable of looking much farther ahead than Saturday or Sunday. But we’re still here, working away, writing and dreaming and hoping and planning. So let’s keep this Christmas party going! What are you still working on? Where is your Christmas Eve sermon going? Are you singing any unusual carols? What are some of your congregation’s Christmas Eve traditions? For example: At Ridgefield-Crystal Lake Presbyterian Church, right before we sing Silent Night with our candles, someone reads a poem. For several years it’s been Ann Weems’ poem Unexpected from her book Kneeling in Bethlehem, but this year the reader asked for something new, so we’ll be hearing Hush by Lucinda Hynett. It was originally published in Alive Now in 2004.
Sssh.
Can you hear it?
An expectant silence,
a hushed anticipation,
as if the very galaxy
is holding its breath.
There are some truths
even the stars know,
like darkness,
like loneliness
and how the night
can be a living thing.
And how once, long ago,
the night waited in wonder
along with the darkness
and the loneliness,
for the sound of a baby’s cry,
for the miraculous
to come down
to the earth mundane.
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