Water Communion Prayers


These prayers were written to go with the verses of hymn #100 in Singing the Living Tradition, “I’ve Got Peace Like a River”. The choir sang each verse in response to the spoken prayer.


In this sanctuary and beyond its walls are people working for peace in many different ways” peace within in themselves, their families, their communities, and in the world at large. May they find the support they need for this holy work.

I’ve got peace like a river…

In this sanctuary and beyond its walls are people celebrating a multitude of joys in their lives and the lives of others. We happily witness all these moments of gladness with them, living in to a community of abundance.

I’ve got joy like a fountain…

In this sanctuary and beyond its walls are people who love. And, like the ocean, love can take many forms: deep, calm, rocky, fierce – but it is always powerful. May we strive to love ourselves and each other with the power of a love that nurtures, heals, and supports.

I’ve got love like an ocean…

In this sanctuary and beyond its walls are people suffering. Their pain could be physical, emotional, mental. It whatever way they are suffering, it has taken hold, and they need support to survive it. May we always be steadfast and gentle when we witness the pain of others, and work towards caring for all in our interdependent web.

I’ve got pain like an arrow…

In this sanctuary and beyond its walls, people shed tears of both joy and sorrow. These tears are how our bodies share the deep, feelings of our hearts. They represent something within in us that is so profound, so fundamental, that it must be shared with our entire beings. May the tears of our lives always be recognized as sacred.

I’ve got tears like the raindrops…

In this sanctuary and beyond its walls, people discover strength in themselves and in others that they never thought possible. We also struggle with when we find ourselves tired, or weak, and afraid to ask for help in our times of need. May we find here in this gathered community the strength we can offer, and the strength we need.

I’ve got strength like a mountain…


The Feast

This was originally posted on the Patheos blog Nature’s Path, August 17th, 2016.


Last month I wrote about the holidays of Lammas and Lughnasadh, waxing both poetic and academic about their ancient origins and relevance to us in modern times. But this month, I’m writing about how I actually celebrated the holiday, possibly for the first time in my life.

Like I wrote previously, summer, especially late summer, is a brutal time for me in which I am usually too hot and too rushed to do much celebrating of anything, especially if it requires time and effort. I’ve also been away from my congregation and its CUUPS chapter all summer, doing my clinical pastoral education at a local hospital, and therefore weren’t participating in events they were organizing — even my beloved full moon drum circles. But with the growth of our two children out of being babies and toddlers, my partner and I are increasingly feeling the need to make the wheel of the year fully present in our household and how we construct our lives as a family. So this year, he put together a Lammas feast.

Oatmeal Apple Bread, Chilled Berry Soup, Herb Fritters (dipped in honey my mother had brought back from a trip to Ethiopia), Armoured Turnips, Baked Acorn Squash, Blackberry Pork Ribs, and Cucumber Mint Sorbet were all on the menu. My cousin opened up her home (and her wonderful kitchen) to us as the space to celebrate. When the rest of our family had arrived, there were three generations spending the evening together honouring the precious bonds of relationship and the turning of the seasons.

I have not done coven work in many years, and even when I did, those relationships were not very strong for me. I know many for whom this is a powerful and necessary practice for religious community and spiritual growth — it just never worked that way for me. Perhaps that’s why celebrating the actual holidays has been traditionally a struggle for me — they are, fundamentally, about the interdependent web of which we are all a part, cycling through the wheel over and over again, and I personally cannot tap into that ritually without having a web present with me, holding me in its embrace.

That night, surrounded by my family that has supported me through thick and thin, eating food prepared by my partner with deep and abiding love, and watching my children weave themselves into webs of their own creation, I found a way back to myself. What a gift we are given when we are open to creativity and collaboration.

Blessed be.