forgive my parochialism on this Easter Sunday, and feel free to add prayers from your own tradition.
Crucified and risen Lord,
we pray for the Church.
Save us from dawdling by an empty tomb.
Save us from bondage to the past.
Save us from the hypnotic fascination of decay and death
and make your Church to know your resurrection life.
May we follow where you lead
and live for you in today’s world.
The Lord is risen.
He is risen indeed.
Savior Christ, we pray for the whole human family.
Hanging on the cross,
you gave hope to a rebel at your side
and prayed for those who condemned you to that violent death.
We too live amid violence,
the violence of subversion, of repressive government,
and all the subtle violence by which the powerful seek to impose their will on the weak.
None of us is free from its taint.
You alone can give victory over the violence of the world and of our hearts.
Save us, Lord.
Give us the will and the power to share your victory.
The Lord is risen.
He is risen indeed.
Living Lord, we pray for our society,
entombed in material possessions
and oppressed with ever-changing fears.
Many know no better hope than that things may get no worse
and that they may enjoy a few years of quiet retirement before the end.
Release us from this living death.
Cause us to live with the life you alone can give.
The Lord is risen.
He is risen indeed.
Lord, you know what it is to suffer pain, degradation, and rejection and to die an outcast.
We pray for all who suffer: Terri and Michael Schiavo and their families, the people of Iraq and all war-torn countries, the poor of the world, all those who have been tortured, those who who are sick or in chronic pain.
May they know you as one who shares their agony and enables them to share your triumph.
The Lord is risen.
He is risen indeed.
With thanksgiving for the life that was given
and joyous hope of the life that is yet to be,
we remember those who have died, or who stand at death’s door.
As in Adam all die,
so in Christ will all be brought to life.
The Lord is risen.
He is risen indeed.
Amen.
For everyone here who is either a believer or those of us who are not we should try and do one thing in the coming week of concrete value to improve or help someones life. Actions give meaning to words of faith and prayer.
The pastor at the church we attended this morning talked about how The Tomb was a dark and scary place, as were jails, soup kitchens, caring for the sick and the dying. But, she said, we are called to be in the dark and scary places, and she challenged us to go there in the coming year.
It was a great sermon.
I always enjoy reading your diaries even though as I said I am not a believer. Because I know how I feel on issues I like to see how someone like yourself applies your actions through your faith. How we end up with the same end through different perspectives.
I would like to offer my prayers for Terri Schiavo. May the Lord Bless and Receive her when she goes home to him.
I am so sorry it had to come to this.
At children’s chat today, the minister used different iconic items to tell the story of the crucifixtion and resurrection. He had a swatch of purple cloth and he asked if anyone knew what it represented. None of the children answered (the purple robe of royalty) and he repeated the question several times when my 4-year-old said, “Just get on with it.” When he pulled out a small silver cross and explained how Jesus was nailed to it, she said, “I didn’t know Jesus was so tiny.”
Doesn’t that maybe show that children should receive religious teachings only from a certain age up, when they are intellectually ready to comprehend what they’re hearing?
I remember my little Catholic self at age 6, having to prepare for both First Communion and Confirmation the same year, and never having a clue as to what was going on; I didn’t even know how to read yet, and my mother had to prepare me orally, repeating a huge list of questions and answers, which I had to learn by heart. I have never remembered any of those questions or answers since then, and I never really understood the words of the prayers, which I memorized woodenly like an automaton. I couldn’t even grasp the somewhat abstract concept of “loving” Jesus; to me, love was the romantic thing that happened when you grew up and kissed somebody handsome, like in the movies. Or maybe the kind of love between family members. How could you “love” someone you’d never seen? I couldn’t figure out why the nuns called each other “sister” (were they related?), and I remember they all looked quite spooky seen from the back, dressed in black and sitting together all in a group during Mass.
To make things even more incomprehensible, the Mass was still in Latin at that time (although, I must say, it has lost a lot of its religious “atmosphere” with some of the icky rinky-dink songs and guitar strumming I have heard the very few times I’ve gone to church in recent years. And what to say about some of the modern church designs? The architects of medieval Gothic cathedrals sure knew something about how atmosphere alone could instill a sense of religiosity). And then there were all those changes of position during the Mass: kneeling, standing, sitting; up, down, up, down… What little kid could understand (or care) what was going on?
Going to Confession in that dark closet, once I started, was pretty scary too (age 6, mind you — what kind of sins could I have been committing? You were also supposed to know exactly how many times you had disobeyed Mommy and Daddy, or yelled at your little brother. How many times??? Never fear, I made them up — just as my sister did. We could hear her voice, too loud, from inside the confessional, and she made up some whoppers!)
I have been left with a very conflictual relationship with religion, in a sort of limbo (by the way, where did all the little unbaptised babies’ souls go, once they decided Limbo didn’t exist anymore?). I don’t remember anything I was taught in years of catechism, and I don’t feel comfortable in churches (except as a visitor for art history purposes), but I feel I should believe in something, although I don’t know how or in what; I don’t know how to believe blindly in anything, to have “faith”, because I ask myself too many questions. The part of my religion that remained with me the longest, from my childhood, was simply the instilled sense of guilt. Guilt for not going to church every Sunday (even though I couldn’t bring myself to do it anyway), for not going to Confession or taking Communion, for not getting married in the Church. It took a while, but that finally disappeared, too.
In any case, one thing I’m sure of is that religious teachings, to have any real sense and significance, should only start at a certain age, when a child is capable of reasoning, of understanding symbolism and abstract concepts. Otherwise it’s just pure indoctrination. And in the end, as in my case, the final effect may end up being the opposite of what was intended or desired, with rejection of the religion.
Doesn’t that maybe show that children should receive religious teachings only from a certain age up, when they are intellectually ready to comprehend what they’re hearing?
No. It’s just an amusing anecdote.
That’s certainly much too young. Confirmation should take place when the child is ready to make decisions for him/herself. Most Protestant churches do it at 13 or 14; I personally believe 16-17 is better.
I pray for the safety of us all, as we go about our Easter Monday,
that understanding and compassion ride with us in our travels.
For a joyous and peaceful week in this troubled world.
Today I pray for the people of Sumatra, my friend’s mother who was just diagnosed with kidney cancer (they removed the kidney, however, and think they got it all), my mother and her health, PastorDan and Mrs. Pastor, and all our friends at Booman.