Good Shepherd of us all

I thank you today for all the good shepherds in my life
and for all the ways you’ve shepherded me
through their love, their watchful presence,
their devotion and protection…
I thank you for my parents, my first shepherds;
I thank you for their protection, for the shelter of their love,
and for all they sacrificed
to help me grow…
I thank you for other shepherds in my family
and for all my friends
who comfort and challenge me,
who dry my tears and make me laugh,
who walk faithfully close by my side…
I thank you for all the shepherds
who taught me in school,
who counseled and directed me,
who shaped me and helped me to become
the person I am today…
I thank you for shepherds
whose names I don’t know, who stand in harm’s way
’round my town and ’round the world,
standing guard all day long to keep me safe,
keeping vigil while I sleep without a worry…
I thank you Lord, for the shepherds who care
for the sick and dying sheep among us,
who bind up wounds,
who bring comfort to those in pain,
who speed the path to health
or ease the path to end of days…
I thank you for the shepherds you’ve called home,
especially those gone much too soon,
whose gentle shepherd’s crook I miss,
whose presence still abides within my heart…
I thank you for the shepherds, Lord,
who remember me in prayer,
lifting up my name and needs to you;
who keep me in the sheepfold of your grace,
you, my gentle Shepherd,
Good Shepherd of us all…
Amen.
Prayer professing faith

Transgressing our sense of power, your Son was born as the baby of a virgin.
When he died, he crossed the border of hell.
On shore


shame covered,
Peter leapt into the sea.
Where tears once drowned hope
and denials became despair and self loathing,
his eyes had seen that figure on the shore,
that body once strung across the stained wood of execution.
A revived fishing business,
the dull depression of remembered cowardice,
of failed courage,
bad dreams of abandonment,
a deep sea of pain,
now splashed with new hope.
Peter would make it to the shore.
He is risen.
Peter is risen from the dead.
Three times denied.
Three times invited to love again
by him who three times prayed his own despair
and, three times mocked ‘mid three crosses,
in three days rose to resurrect Peter.
Peter made it to the shore.
Others made it to the shore.
They ate together,
a fellowship of grace and rehabilitation,
of forgiveness and hope,
a symbol of the persistence of divine love,
also for you and me.
Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore,
He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
“No,” they answered.
He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”
Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!”
The Lord . . . come to you
seeing Easter through fresh eyes

as if the shock of Good Friday wasn’t enough for your closest followers…
We feel for those faithful women who went to visit you
just after sunrise on that Sunday morning,
and fled, trembling and bewildered and afraid.
You were not there.
Forgive us when we sanitise your death.
And forgive us, too, if we belittle your resurrection!
Please help us to see this most incredible of moments,
this greatest twist of any plot,
through fresh eyes,
on this bewildering, yet most joyful of mornings.
Help us to see it through the tear-filled eyes of those women.
Help us to see it through the disbelieving eyes of the men,
some of whom came running.
And help us to glimpse it through your own eyes,
which must have blinked into the early morning sunlight
of that first Easter Day,
from out of complete, and utter, darkness,
and refocused,
and creased, with a smile.
You are risen indeed.
Prayer for Holy Saturday

Lamentation of Christ, Andrea Mantegna, via Wikimedia Commons
What is this sight that we behold? What is this present rest?
for measureless is your great mercy and you reign forever.
Come, let us see our Life lying in the tomb,
Prayer on Good Friday

A Book of Uncommon Prayer
____________________________
What was it like when Mary anointed your feet?
Was there daylight or was the room lit with candles?
Did she anoint your right foot first?
What did it feel like to have her hair wiping your feet?
Just how fragrant did the room become?
What was Mary feeling? Immense gratitude, unbridled love, melancholy?
Did she have any idea that she was preparing your body for burial?
What was the tone of Judas and the disciples who objected?
Were any of them really thinking of the poor?
Would I have joined them in their disdain?
How sharp or gentle were your words of correction?
Did they have any idea that you would be washing their feet soon?
How did Mary receive your words defending her?
Did she smile, or did her eyes become wet?
How did she feel when you shared that you would not be with them much longer?
What was it like to be with you that evening, Jesus?
Be close to me as I follow you through Holy Week.
But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected,
“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied.
