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Our September worship gathering was cancelled due to a thunder storm.
Our theme would have been Gelassenheit - a German word used over the centuries by Christian mystics, Anabaptists, and now eco-theologians and environmental ethicists. It is often translated as yieldedness, though some other words might be composure, tranquility, serenity, unhurried, calm, easy-going, and laid-back. Gelassenheit is a form of releasing ourselves from our egos or from anthropocentrism, and opening to mystery and connection with the world around us, with the divine among us. As I was thinking about the turning of the seasons, this idea of yielding came to mind. Summer yields to Autumn; the lighter half of the year yields to the darker half of the year; flowers yield to seeds, leaves yield to the earth, growth yields to dormancy. This kind of yielding is happening all around us. “The idea of “waiting” in Gelassenheit is distinguishably different from our normal idea of waiting for something that is named, and is more about waiting upon, which has the feel of a gift being bestowed. … What Gelassenheit offers is the opportunity to look at another way of being… By letting that which is apart from us come to us on its own terms rather than on ours, we are in a listening mode whereby objectification ceases. An experience reaches us from beyond. … In silence and listening things come out to meet us.” (Sharon Harvey) Set aside some time to go outside and open yourself to what is happening around you - wait upon creation, wait upon God's wisdom, and see what happens. “Be still and know that I am God.” - Psalm 46:10 All around us, we see summer yielding to autumn. What lessons might we learn from adopting a similar posture?
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Today I was stopped in my tracks by the sweet earthy smell of rotting leaves. Heaven on earth! A tree's offering to the soil. This scent tells the curious truth: death can be achingly, exquisitely, lovely. Death is not a final ending, it is a transformation, a continuum, an outpouring of love. - Wendy Janzen  A million thanks, Eternal One,
for all the gifts of life. For each element, each life form, that intersects with mine, I offer my deep gratitude. For the sun, air, and clouds, the tamaracks, maples, and willows, thank you! For the blue jays, crows, and geese, the bunnies, squirrels, and fox, thank you! For the moths, bees, and spiders, the asters, sunflowers, and goldenrod, thank you! For the apples, squash, and carrots, the grains, seeds, and nuts, thank you! For ponds, creeks, and rain, the rocks, soil, and compost, thank you! For neighbours, friends, and strangers, and all microscopic life I cannot see, thank you! For this community, ecosystem, home, for this place of belonging and connection, and for a million other ways you bless my life and all lives, I am truly thankful to you, the Ground of our being, Creator of all that was, and is, and ever shall be. Amen. - Wendy Janzen God of the Cosmos,
who created the circle of life, we give thanks and praise for this most beautiful, complex, and wise planet we live on. We recognize the brokenness around us and within us, and offer you our deep grief and prayers for our planet. In the brownness of this season of decay, we know that you are present. We pray for all the griefs we carry - for loved ones we have lost, for our loss of connection with the earth, for disenfranchised peoples, for species under threat, for drained ancient lakes, for dammed rivers, for strange weather patterns, for the lack of will to ban coal, for short sighted leaders, for urban sprawl and new highways, for unwanted pipelines, for rising temperatures. Hear our cries, and have mercy on us, O God. Hold and honour our grief, reminding us that the depth of our grief reflects the depth of our love and concern. Grant us your deep peace, beyond our understanding. May the light of this single candle be a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness, a guiding force into a new way of living in step and in balance with the needs of all life. We place our trust in your great love for the world, and that we have a future with hope. Amen. - Wendy Janzen May November be a time
to lay to rest that which no longer brings life. May the cool days invite you out to wander and pay attention. May you embrace the mysteries of life and find the blessings of God everywhere. May the laments of the Earth touch your heart and transform your living. May your soul recognize kinship with all that exists. May your prayers for the Earth be heard. - Wendy Janzen We give you honour and thanks, Creator of all, for the good gifts of this season - crystal blue skies, misty mornings, wild grapes, mushrooms, vibrant colours, longer nights, abundant harvests...
We give you honour and thanks, Creator of all, for the good gifts of life - air to breathe, fresh water, fruits of the earth, a place to call home, a circle of friends, animals who provide companionship, family, time for play and rest… We give you honour and thanks, Creator of all, for the mysteries of our world that inspire wonder - mycelium, galaxies, atoms, aurora borealis, whale migrations, lichen, star dust, metamorphosis... We give you honour and thanks, Creator of all, for those parts of creation we may not be so fond of - rats, snakes, mosquitos, blind weed, skunks, starlings, dandelions, spiders... We give you honour and thanks, Creator of all, for wise and compassionate ones - for prophets, activists, artists, poets, mentors, peace-builders, edge-walkers, earth-keepers, truth-tellers, change-makers, love-bearers… We give you honour and thanks, Creator of all, for sacred spaces - for communities of faith, prayer, holy ground, burning bushes, epiphanies, soulfulness, mystery, longing, renewal, hope, new life… For all this and so much more may we be truly grateful. Amen. - Wendy Janzen Blessed are you, autumn,
season of unavoidable endings. You show us how letting go can be a glorious, joyful practice with your spectacular colours. You model how to hold paradoxes with grace - the balance of living and dying, relinquishing and receiving, gathering and sharing. You know that death is not and ending, but a passage, a transformation into new life. May we learn these lessons well: to celebrated with abandon to practice reverence to surrender completely to embrace tenderly to love without regret. - Wendy Janzen This month of November can be a melancholy month - darker days, moodier skies, fallen leaves, and days like All Saints Day, Remembrance Day, and Eternity Sunday that all point us toward facing our losses and making space for lament. A lot of us feel grief over the amount of climate-related damage is being inflicted on the earth. Our November worship gathering created space to acknowledge our grief, to name species at risk, and to turn to God for hope in the ritual of communion. Litany of Lament Christ, our Wounded Healer, who suffers the pains of creation, we bring to you our prayers of lament for the Earth. In your mercy, receive our prayers as we name the species of our province that are threatened, endangered or extirpated: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison Christ, our Wounded Healer, who suffers the pains of creation, we bring before you our laments as we name other environmental concerns we carry: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison Christ, our Wounded Healer, who suffers the pains of creation, we hold before you other griefs and laments that are on our hearts today: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison Christ, our Wounded Healer, who suffers the pains of creation, Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, have mercy on us. In your kindness and love, you have entrusted us as caretakers for your Creation, to live as your image-bearers in a world you created for your delight. We confess that we have turned from your will, often abusing the natural world for greedy and short-sighted purposes. Now we are facing global climate disruption and other ecological crises as a result of our rebellion. Forgive us of our sins, and the sins of our society, and our failure to care for what you created for good. In your mercy, lead us to repentance, compassion, and life. May your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Amen. I have set before you life and death . . . therefore choose life. (Deuteronomy 30:19) Partial list of species who are threatened, endangered, or extirpated in the province of Ontario: Eastern Tiger Salamander, Extirpated Fowlers Toad, Endangered Barn Owl, Endangered Golden Eagle, Endangered Greater Prairie Chicken, Extirpated Lake Sturgeon, Endangered Paddlefish, Extirpated Rusty-Patched Bumble Bee, Endangered Karner Blue Moth, Extirpated Mountain Lion (Cougar), Endangered American Badger, Endangered American Chestnut, Endangered Small White Lady’s Slipper, Endangered Spring Blue-Eyed Mary Extirpated Four-Leaved Milkweed, Endangered Blue Racer Snake, Endangered Eastern Box Turtle, Extirpated Spotted Turtle, Endangered Timber Rattlesnake, Extirpated Incurved Grizzled Moss, Extirpated Pale-Bellied Frost Lichen, Endangered Piping Plover, Endangered Grey Fox,Threatened Butternut Tree, Endangered Eastern Flowering Dogwood, Endangered Red Mullberry, Endangered Common Five-Lined Skink, Endangered Algonquin Wolf, Threatened Eastern Persius Duskywing Moth, Extirpated Northern Bobwhite, Endangered and more... - Wendy Janzen Prayer on the last day of October
God of Octobers, We thank you for this month of clear blue skies, of geese flying in formation, of snakes sunning themselves on the path, of squirrels busy collecting nuts. We thank you for the rich palette of colour painted on the forests, for the sounds of crunchy leaves beneath our feet, for abundant apples loading down branches and scattered on the ground, for pumpkin patches, clusters of grapes, frosty mornings, and the culmination of the garden harvest. God, in this holy season of transformation may we be released from the busyness and excesses of life, so that we might learn to simply be present to rest in your presence. Amen. - Wendy Janzen Each October for several years now, right around the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, I pick the wild grapes that grow along our fence. I turn them into juice that is then used as our communion juice at Burning Bush Forest Church (and will be used at Wilmot Forest Church, too). It is a practice of gratitude, and a gift of grace, to have juice that comes from the "wild." I did not plant these grapes, and they are definitely not a cultivated variety. I rarely prune them, but every October they offer enough small little clusters to put away juice for worship. Below is my ode to wild grapes!
Wild Grapes I open the door to the wide, wild, world; crisp October air washes my face, fresh and surprising, awakening me to this day. Wild vines sprawl along an urban fence line; who planted them - human? bird? - no one knows. Through summer months tendrils stretched and grasped for the sun, reaching further and further, claiming new territory each day. Once vibrant green leaves alive with purpose now a yellowing and limp tangle. I move slowly, methodically, along the row, the vines playing a game of hide and seek with their tiny deep purple clusters. Hands stained, fingers numb, bowl filled, ample left behind for other foragers, my heart offers thanks for this small harvest, grateful for this miracle, this gift of the earth. My mind jumps ahead to jars of jewel-hued liquid that will be poured out in worship, poured out as an act of love for all. The wild Christ, present in the elements, juice and bread; in light, earth, water, and wind, in rituals that transform us and unite us with all that was and is and ever shall be. - Wendy Janzen, 2019 |
AuthorReflections, poetry, prayers, photos, and resources written by Wendy Janzen unless otherwise noted. Archives
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