Pathways Theological Education
Learning Objectives
To identify key elements of worship and its various expressions within the Christian tradition.
To summarize the theological, historical and biblical underpinnings of worship.
To discuss worship preparations and practices, alone and in community, intensive and extensive, and their interdependence on each other.
To describe baptism and communion narratives in light of calling and discipleship.
To identify current worship trends and issues in worship.
Demonstrate strengthening of inter- and intrapersonal assets as described by Marks 1.1, 3.5, 7.6,8.1., 8.2, 8.3, 8.4, and 8.6.
Required Reading
The Bible (Various translations. The New Revised Standard version is recommended.)
An Altar for the World: A Geography of Faith, Barbara Taylor Brown, New York: Harper One, 2009.
The Work of the People: What We Do In Worship and Why, Marlea Gilbert et al., Herndon, VA: The Alban Institute, 2007.
Other required readings and materials as provided.
Recommended Reading
Liturgy As A Way of Life: Embodying the Arts in Christian Worship, Bruce Ellis Benson
African American Christian Worship, Marva Costen, sense of self as shaped by God, community, and life experiences.
Celebration of Disciplines, Richard Foster
Out of Solitude, Henri Nouwen
The Worship Wars, Thomas Long
The United Church of Christ Book of Worship
Course Discussions
Select two of the biblical passages provided. What does the passage state or highlight about worship? Does this resonate with your own worship experience? Why or why not?
Scripture reveals worship as a dynamic expression, shaped by personal and community context. Exodus 15:1-21, the Song of Moses, exemplifies celebratory worship. Emerging from the Red Sea’s miracle, the Israelites’ spontaneous song and dance affirm God’s deliverance. This embodied response, a fusion of music and movement, underscores worship’s power to express profound joy and gratitude. My experience in a 1990s ethhically diverse, urban MCC church mirrored this. Gospel music and movement created a liberating space for me and my LGBTQIA+ siblings. Here, worship wasn't just ritual; it was a defiant celebration of identity, a reclaiming of bodily expression in a world that often denied our embodiment. Remembering God's acts, as in Exodus, became a communal celebrationo identity and our entitlement to God's grace in a world that often tried to deny us that grace, reinforcing our value as beloved children of God.
Acts 4:23-31 contrasts this with worship born from adversity. Facing persecution, the early church’s united prayer sought strength, not escape. This passage highlights worship's role in fostering resilience. During my coming-out, this resonated deeply. Facing isolation, prayer became a lifeline; a source of hope in the midst of hopelessness. Today, as the LGBTQIA+ community faces renewed persecution, this passage remains vital to our community, and encourages us to speak out with great boldness for what is right. Worship in this sense becomes a form of resistance, a collective declaration of our worth in the face of those who would make us worthless.Shared prayer creates unity, empowering us to continue advocating for justice.
Thus, worship serves a dual purpose: celebration and resilience. For marginalized communities, it’s a tool for liberation, enabling embodied expression and communal strength. Whether celebrating deliverance or seeking fortitude, worship remains a powerful force for empowerment for all God's people.
Define worship, liturgy, and altar. How are these terms defined or used in the text readings? What is your understanding of these terms?
In "The Work of the People: What We Do in Worship and Why," Gilbert, Grundy, Myers, and Perdew offer a functional understanding of worship, liturgy, and how they shape the Christian community. Regarding worship, they present a structured formula, an “ordo,” that describes the fundamental actions of Christian faith. This flow begins with the gathering of the people for praise and prayer, followed by the sharing and interpretation of God's word in scripture. Worship also includes responding to this word through the sacraments of Holy Baptism and Communion, the two sacraments recognized by the UCC. People then offer gifts and lives in service to God’s church and its ministry, and finally, go forth to live as Christ's disciples in the world. This framework emphasizes worship as a dynamic, participatory experience, rather than a “sit back and watch” situation. More profoundly, the authors assert that “the act of worship makes us ‘church,’” highlighting that all other activities we undertake stem from this central encounter with the living God in our Sunday mornings or Saturday nights.
While I recognize the authors' definition of worship as representing the classical view of the structure of Sunday morning services - like Barbara Brown Taylor's definition of "altar" - I also tend to see opportunities for worship in many small and significant moments of daily life, in many different places. If an altar is where we stop to recognize the presence of the divine, then worship is the act of acknowledging that presence and interpreting what it is calling us to do in our daily lives, as well as the practices of expressing gratitude and seeking the intercession of God as creator and friend. I have many such little moments per day where I feel I am conducting my own personal "micro-worships", and turns my faith into an everyday activity instead of just a Sunday morning experience.
The authors define "liturgy" as "the work of the people" (from the Greek word "leitourgia" (λειτουργία)), highlighting that is participatory by its very nature. While liturgical texts may be crafted by pastors and led by a select few, the entire congregation becomes actively engaged in it. This definition rejects a passive model of worship, emphasizing that God only comes near to us in worship when everyone actively participates. By this definition, the authors advocate for a worship experience that is not only structured but also deeply communal and engaging. I am largely in agreement with this formalized formula for executing formal liturgy, and I acknowledge its effectiveness and power, and the vital importance of people actively participating, lest it be a performative, empty gesture.
Barbara Brown Taylor, in "An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith," presents a broader, more expansive view of the altar than we traditionally use. She describes the story of Jacob in a time before the temple existed, when “people were free to see the whole world as an altar,” a definition that resonates strongly with me. By this definition, the divine could manifest anywhere, and these locations were marked as sacred. The meeting tent, a mobile space of intense divine presence, is another example of how God can be encountered in various places; not only in the Biblical times but also in the American Revival Movement. Taylor highlights that the presence of God is far too vast to be confined to a specific structure and can manifest anywhere if we are paying attention. I love Brown's definition of altar. I have an altar in my home, I worship at the altar of my church, and I have encountered many altars in nature and even in people who hold a visible spark of the sacred that I wish to stop, recognize and appreciate.
Who initiates worship and who responds? Explain your answer.
The idea that we, as humans, stumble upon worship like discovering a forgotten 20-dollar bill is a comforting, yet fundamentally flawed view. To truly understand worship, particularly within a Christian framework, you have to flip the script. It's not about us finding God; it's about God finding us. Think of it like this: the sun doesn't wait for the flower to decide to open; the sun's warmth compels it to open.
So who initiates? God sends out the first signal, an invitation - perhaps even lovingly placed in our DNA when we are knit together in our mother's womb - that stimulates curiosity about who God is and where we fit in God's creation. This isn't a passive, distant signal either. It's a vibrant, ever-present invitation. Through the sheer wonder of creation, through the words written in scripture, and through the very essence of Jesus's life and who He was, God reveals God's self. Even the quiet nudges of the Holy Spirit, those moments of sudden clarity or deep peace, are part of this divine initiation. We don't just conjure these feelings out of nowhere; they are a response to something already in motion. Something build into our "firmware".
This concept is illustrated beautifully in the "Call to Worship," a practice that's more than just a liturgical formality. It's an important, symbolic acknowledgment that we're gathered not out of our own volition, but because we've been called. It's like God's way of saying "hello," a gentle nudge to recognize that we are in the presence of something far greater than ourselves.
Now, our response, that's where we come in. We answer with praise, with gratitude, with a willingness to acknowledge our shortcomings. Our prayers, our songs, our gifts, and even the act of sharing bread and cup—these are echoes of God's initial call. It's a beautiful, intricate dance of divine action and human reaction.
Consider the rhythm of call and response we read about in Regina Drake's "Reflections on Call and Response". It's a back-and-forth, a dialogue. But even in this dialogue, the first call sets the tone. Think of a gospel choir, the lead singer's powerful invocation answered by the chorus's rich harmonies. That initial cry, that's the divine initiation.
And those calls are as infinite as God is. They aren’t limited to formal services or grand pronouncements. They are woven into the fabric of our daily lives, in the quiet moments of contemplation, in simple acts of kindness to God's creation, in the simple beauty of a sunset. Every moment has the potential to be a call to worship, a reminder that we are constantly being invited into a deeper relationship with the sacred and the divine. It's about recognizing that every act of worship, every moment of connection, is ultimately a response to a love that came before us, a love that calls us home.
Reflect on a worship practice from one Taylor chapter and from one other course reading this week. In the Taylor selection, comment on her assertion that every spiritual practice begins with the body .
"We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience." - Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
That quote always gets me thinking about this topic. Barbara Brown Taylor's emphasis on embodiment in spiritual practice, as presented in Chapter 3 of "An Altar in the World," really nails this idea. And it's echoed beautifully in Regina Harris Drake's poem, "Worship" as well. Taylor asserts that "every spiritual practice begins with the body," a concept that challenges the often-disembodied nature of modern spirituality. She argues that true reverence and connection to the sacred come from our physical engagement with the world. Walking. Breathing. Listening. Seeing. Feeling. All the amazing things God designed our bodies to do! This isn't merely a philosophical idea; it is a practical one, urging us to use our senses, to feel the ground beneath our feet, to notice the air on our skin, and to become fully present in our physical incarnations. This was so important that "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son..." into the experience of flesh so God could share in the experience of humanity.
In the poem "Worship," Drake portrays the embodied experience of worship. The poem opens with the speaker's physical arrival, "I come filled with grace or perhaps/Still shouldering last night’s regrets—/To hallowed cathedral or/The peculiar majesty of a porch." The act of "coming" itself is a physical movement, a physical action that initiates a spiritual journey. Whether in a grand cathedral or on a simple porch, the setting is experienced through the senses. The "early morning light," the "sweet-voiced choirs," and the "small wings flapping wildly" create a sensory experience that anchors the spiritual experience in the physical realm, just like the Teilhard de Jardin quote above.
Drake goes on to further illustrate embodiment through the physicality of prayer. The speaker acknowledges that "Maybe my great need drops me/To my knees before you." This physical act of kneeling is a profound expression of humility and surrender, a bodily posture that signifies a deep spiritual longing.
So whether we are human beings having a spiritual experience or spiritual beings having a human experience, the two are clearly inextricably connected to one another!
Do you see interdependence between your intensive and extensive practices? If so, how? If not, why do you think that is?
The two are absolutely interdependent. The beautiful transition between intensive and extensive worship is something I experience vividly at First Church Phoenix UCC. Our practice of concluding every service with the collective declaration, "The worship has ended, let the service begin!" is a powerful, tangible representation of this interdependence. In essence, we are saying, "The intensive worship has ended, let us flow immediately into extensive worship in the world."
This phrase isn't just a closing remark; it's a call to action, a bridge between the sacred space of communal worship and the sacred space of daily life. It acknowledges that true worship isn't confined to the walls of the church but extends into every aspect of our existence.
After this declaration, the transition is remarkably seamless. We don't simply disperse; we move purposefully into practical expressions of our faith. Some of us gather in the kitchen to assemble sandwiches for our unhoused neighbors, while others head to another room to sort clothing for our gender-affirming free boutique, serving the Trans community. Yet others gather to write postcards to our elected officials in favor of protecting the environment. In each of these things, we practice the faith we profess in formal worship, and we embody Christ in our ethics and our actions.
The act of making sandwiches or sorting clothes has become a form of prayer and meditation for us, a tangible expression of the love and compassion we had professed during worship. It was as if the spiritual energy generated during the service was being channeled into concrete action through our hands. Likewise, those sorting clothing were making sure that those that needed it had access to items that would help them live their lives more fully and authentically.
These experiences highlight the profound connection between our intensive and extensive worship practices. The intensive worship provided the inspiration and motivation, while the extensive worship provided the opportunity to embody our faith in a meaningful way, and in the process, deepening our faith in ways that we understand it in our hearts and bones, not just in our minds. It is a beautiful, seamless transition, a living testament to the idea that true worship is a way of life, not just a Sunday ritual.
Tell a short story of your baptism in any format that you wish. Tell it so someone not there could visualize and experience it with you from your perspective. Relate your understanding of baptism to the Gunnemann article (If you were baptized as an infant, recall any details told to you about your baptism, later musings and understanding of baptism to tell your story.)
I can only vaguely remember the baptism of my niece, Merrick Brynn Bicknell, which took place in 2001 . My sister brought Merrick from Denver, CO, to our family’s home church, Plymouth Congregational UCC in Des Moines, IA. It was a big family gathering, with relatives coming from several states. I had flown in from Europe and was probably jet-lagged, which might explain my hazy memory of the event.
The baptism took place during a regular Sunday service. Plymouth Congregational was a large church, usually filled with people during services; at that time, it had over 2500 members spread across two Sunday services. What I do remember clearly is the altar carving that presided over my entire youth. The wooden carving, which had been there since 1927, displayed the words "Love Never Faileth" from 1 Corinthians 13:8 (KJV). This carving was more than a decoration; it was a symbol. It represented the constant presence of God's love during significant moments in my family's life. To this day, that phrase is central to my theology and is engraved in bronze above the family photo wall in my home.
Merrick's baptism likely followed the traditional Book of Worship sacrament. The elements of the service were:
Invitation
Welcome
Address
Questions of the Candidates
Congregational Assent
Affirmation of Faith
Prayer of Baptism
Act of Baptism
Act of Praise
Prayer for the Baptized
Benediction
According to Gunnemann, this traditional approach and the use of post-1959 baptismal liturgies, misses the core meaning of baptism, which is to “confess (acknowledge) that we are ‘called to share in Christ's baptism, eat at his table, and join him in his passion and victory.’” (Gunnemann, “On The Way”, page 17). Gunnemann believes the primary meaning of baptism is the call to share in Christ's ministry, marked by self-giving. It symbolizes a new life focused on serving others, like Jesus, and participating in the mission of the Church. He criticizes traditional liturgies for emphasizing the individual benefits of baptism, like grace, forgiveness, and incorporation into the Church, over this call to service.
While Merrick's baptism was a loving and respectful occasion and certainly had deep meaning for all those involved, I doubt that many attendees, besides the pastor and perhaps some former clergy, fully grasped its significance in the way Gunnemann describes. And because the administration of the sacraments is one of the few “official” things that distinguishes those with a “baptismal call” from those with a “vocational" call”, this understanding of the role of baptism on the life of Christians is critical for ordained clergy to have, the treasure and to protect.
UCC-ers and others are fond of the symbolism of the “table” or the “Lord’s table” in reference to communion. Relate the table symbol to how communion is practiced in your congregation and comment on its implications for discipleship in response to the Gunnemann article.
My congregation emphasizes the “table” in communion as a symbol of radical hospitality, welcoming all to God’s table. We practice open communion, served at stations by clergy and MIDs (with children sometimes holding the elements, which I love!), offering simple affirmations like “The bread of life, the cup of salvation.” This contrasts with my past MCC experience, where communion included personal prayer and laying on of hands, fostering deeper communal connection, but also liturgically mixing the sacrament with other elements that take it out of line with Christian tradition. While both practices value inclusivity, they fall short of Gunnemann's concept of the Eucharist as a “Sacrament of Discipleship.”
Gunnemann argues that communion should extend beyond just remembrance, becoming an “invocation of the Spirit” that calls and fuels us to ethical living and communal responsibility. He emphasizes its transformative potential, empowering believers to actively engage in discipleship. Our focus on hospitality, while essential, lacks this explicit call to action. The individualistic nature of our communion, with its brief affirmations, doesn't always translate into a clear connection between receiving the sacrament and living out our faith in the world. We miss the opportunity for the sacrament in intensive worship to be the link and the inspiration for our extensive worship.
Gunnemann's emphasis on the communal aspect of the Eucharist is also something that needs attention at our church. He sees it as strengthening the “body of Christ” and reinforcing our shared responsibilities. Our practice could benefit from a stronger focus on this communal aspect. One practice I have seen in the past that emphasizes this is when one element (usually the bread) is consumed when received, but that we wait until everyone has the cup before drinking it all together as a symbol of our oneness in Christ.
Baptism does not happen often in our church, but communion does, so it behoves us to spend time understanding it and dialoguing about it more frequently. This might involve treating communion more like "fuel for discipleship", sharing stories of faith-inspired action, or linking communion to specific acts of service. We could also do communal reflection through small group discussions on the Eucharist and its implications for ethical living.
By integrating these elements, we can transform communion from a simple act of hospitality into a powerful catalyst for discipleship. We can move beyond individualistic reception to embrace the communal and transformative potential of the Eucharist, and thereby more fully embody Gunnemann's vision of it as a vital means for nurturing Christian life and action.
How is liturgy the “work of the people’? Discuss supports and barriers to this work in light of contemporary trends and issues.
Liturgy, literally 'the work of the people,' ideally reflects the active participation of the entire congregation, similarly to the way it did in early Christian gatherings. However, the way many mainline protestant (and even evangelical) churches do liturgy today poses significant challenges to this ideal. The modern church has, in some instances, fostered a more passive form of worship, whose passivity can be attributed to factors such as the professionalization of the clergy (acting as intercessories between the people and God), the writing down of liturgical forms, and the pervasive influence of modern consumer culture, all of which contribute to a sense of detachment from communal worship. We have become consumers of worship instead of its creators.
I've personally experienced this detachment. There are times when I'm sitting in a service, and if the liturgy and the music aren't engaging, I find my mind drifting to my grocery list, questioning why I'm even there. It's a feeling of being a spectator, not a participant.
Declining church attendance, as documented by Pew Research Center studies, illustrates that something is missing in the way churches connect with people these days. Especially small congregations, where there is insufficient support for planning weekly liturgy in the face of so many other demands, can transform liturgy into a spectator event rather than a communal expression of faith; like watching a Sunday football game instead of praising and praying to God. Moreover, individualism and consumerism prioritize personal spiritual experiences over communal ones, undermining the concept of shared responsibility in worship.
However, there are concepts that can revitalize liturgy as 'the work of the people'. The Rev. Dr. Jeremiah A. Wright, Jr.'s sermon we watched outlines several key elements of 'preaching with power', or in other words, making the sermon relevant and impactful. He says that preaching with power "connects the hearer to the holy and the hearer's story to the holy story", bridging personal experiences with the sacred narrative and addressing contemporary issues like racism, homophobia, sexism and other types of oppression through a theological lens. Furthermore, powerful preaching convicts, 'replacing cultural blindness with Christ's blessings and sociological restrictions with the freedom found in salvation'. This kind of preaching also converts, evoking a response of rejoicing and a commitment to radical change. Rev. Dr. Wright emphasizes that this type of preaching is not limited just to the sanctuary but can occur in many settings if it achieves these connections, convictions, and conversions. But it all starts with being relevant to those participating in the liturgy. Because if it isn't, then they're not participating.
I've also experienced the power of truly engaging worship. During my three years at the Metropolitan Community Church of Washington D.C. in the 90s, amidst the AIDS crisis, I found a sanctuary. Our community was being devastated, and fear was rampant. MCC-DC, a diverse congregation in the heart of the city, provided a bastion of hope. The gospel music was uplifting, the services were relevant and supportive, the messages spoke to the worries on our hearts, and we felt a strong sense of community that we took out of the sanctuary and into the world aroudn us that needed love so badly. It was a time when we desperately needed to be one another's sanctuary. And it sort of feels like it's we need that again today.
It is also essential to ensure that liturgy resonates with the congregation's specific needs, experiences and cultural context. Active participation should consider the cultural backgrounds of all present, and liturgy elements should be varied to be reponsive to different cultural forms and needs. Social relevance is also crucial, with liturgy addressing the challenges faced by the community and inspiring action for justice. Finally, considering the video material in this week's lesson, accessibility must be prioritized, with universal design and responsive design principles put into place ensuring inclusivity for all, including those with disabilities and mental health challenges. By embracing these principles, churches can move away from passive observation and towards the active engagement that characterized early Christian gatherings, achieving the promise and the purpose of liturgy being 'the work of the people'. And if we want to stave off the drop in church attendance numbers, we need to make all these things a priority. "Business as usual" won't ensure our survival.
Identify three elements of worship presented in this course which opened your understanding of worship. Explain each element and how your understanding was expanded.
As I think back to our assignments and readings for this course, three concepts have particularly resonated with me and have expanded my understanding and appreciation of worship. These are the expansive nature of the altar and location of worship, the vital role of active participation in liturgy as "the work of the people," and the dynamic interplay between intensive and extensive worship.
Firstly, the idea that the altar and the sacred space for worship are not confined to traditional church architecture has been profoundly impactful to me. Barbara Brown Taylor's description of a time before temples, when "people were free to see the whole world as an altar," struck a deep chord. Her perspective suggests that the divine isn't limited to a specific building but can manifest anywhere, turning any location where we encounter God's presence into sacred ground. This concept encompasses historical examples like the portable meeting tent, emphasizing that God's vastness cannot be contained. This broader view helps me articulate something I've always felt intuitively. I have an altar space in my home, I worship at the altar in my church, but I've also encountered countless "altars" in nature – a breathtaking sunset in Arizona, a seaside cliff in France – and even within encounters with other people whose spirit reflects the divine when the sense of connection feels like it is a gift from God. If we define an altar, as Taylor suggests, as any place where we pause to recognize the presence of the divine, then worship naturally becomes the act of acknowledging that sacred presence can happen anywhere. My understanding has shifted from viewing the altar solely as a physical object within a sanctuary to recognizing its potential manifestation throughout creation and daily experiences of “micro-worships” – worship that can happen in the course of a single breath.
Secondly, delving into the meaning of liturgy as "the work of the people" has reshaped how I view communal worship services. Learning that "liturgy" means “the people's work”, underscores its fundamentally participatory nature. While liturgical elements might be prepared by church leaders, the sources we read emphasize that true liturgy involves the active engagement of the entire congregation – church is something we do, not something that is done to us. God draws near, not simply when words are spoken at people, but when everyone participates together with intention and reverence. This perspective challenges the current tendency towards passive observance, where congregants might feel more like an audience than active participants. I see with the value of formalized liturgies, as they can provide a powerful framework for encountering God and connect us to a rich past. However, without genuine, active participation from everyone involved, these structures risk becoming merely performative or hollow gestures. It pushes back against any "sit back and watch" mentality, reminding me that worship is something we do together, a collective offering of attention, voice, and spirit. My appreciation for communal worship is deepened by recognizing it as a shared, active creation rather than a passive reception, and I am grateful that my church already holds it that way.
Thirdly, the concept of the interdependence between intensive and extensive worship has provided a crucial framework for connecting Sunday services to everyday life. Intensive worship refers to those focused times of communal gathering - services, prayer meetings, sacraments - while extensive worship describes how that faith is lived out in the world. Our practice at First Church Phoenix UCC, where the service concludes with the declaration, "The worship has ended, let the service begin!" vividly illustrates this connection. This isn't just a dismissal; it's a commission. It signifies that the energy, insight, and connection created during the intensive worship service are meant to fuel action and service in the world. Seeing congregants immediately move into practical acts of faith - making sandwiches for the unhoused, sorting free clothes for the Trans community, writing advocacy postcards to legislators - demonstrates this seamless flow. These actions aren't separate from worship; they become extensions of it, practical prayers and meditations that embody the love and compassion central to our faith.
These three elements - the expansive altar, participatory liturgy, and the intensive/extensive cycle - have collectively changed and enriched my perspective. They paint a picture of worship that is more integrated into the fabric of life, more reliant on communal engagement, and more dynamically connected to serving the world around us. I look forward to working with all these concepts when I get the chance to lead worship in the future.
Share your final reflection, prayer, wish, thanksgiving and/or goodbye for this course to the group and to the glory of the Divine
As our time together in this course draws to a close, I want to take a moment to offer a final reflection and bid farewell to you, my fellow sojourners. This journey of exploring the art of worship has been enriching, and I've valued the opportunity to learn and grow alongside each of you.
I want to extend a special note of appreciation to John for his leadership and guidance as our facilitator. His thoughtful insights and ability to steer our discussions have been invaluable in deepening our understanding of the concepts we've explored. Thank you, John, for fostering such a supportive and engaging learning environment.
To my fellow students, it has been a privilege to share this space with you. I have been inspired by your diverse backgrounds, perspectives and thoughtful contributions to our discussions and our group project. As we embark on our individual paths ahead, I wish you all great success and abundant blessings in your ministries and in all that you undertake. May you continue to grow in your understanding of worship as the "work of the people" and its power to shape our faith communities.
Drawing on our explorations of how worship, in its intensive and extensive forms, calls us to action in the world, and inspired by Gunnemann's vision of the Eucharist as a "Sacrament of Discipleship" that fuels "ethical living and communal responsibility", I offer this prayer for you:
Gracious God, I lift up our little collective of learners who have journeyed together in this exploration of the art of worship. As we move forward, equip us with the resources and inspiration necessary to blow new life into the work of the church. May we recognize and utilize the unique gifts that you have bestowed upon us to foster active participation in worship, creating communities that are welcoming, relevant, and deeply connected. Grant us the wisdom to bridge the sacred space of communal worship with the sacred space of daily life, so that their lives may be a testament to your love and justice in the world. May we be moved by the transformative potential of the sacraments and the power of your Word to inspire ethical action and a commitment to communal responsibility. Bless us with resilience in these times of adversity and joy in moments of celebration, always remembering that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. Guide us to continually seek your presence and may our work in your church be a vibrant echo of your initial call to us. Amen.
