The smoke was still billowing from the World Trade Centre when we gathered for the first time as a Wine Before Breakfast community at the University of Toronto. It was September 18 and we were launching a new worshipping community at 7.30 on that Tuesday morning.
7.30 am
While the church-planting wisdom of the day was to set the bar low, and make it as easy as possible for folks to join a new venture, we set the bar high. I mean, who comes to church that early on a Tuesday morning?
The church-planters were also saying
to keep things simple and very basic.
Maybe more of a discussion over coffee,
rather than anything that requires some
knowledge or familiarity with Christian ritual and language.
We placed the Eucharist at the heart of our worship.
On one level, this was setting the bar high,
on another level, what could be more basic
than inviting folks to the family meal?
But if someone was going to come to come to church one week after the devastation and terror of 9/11,
what would they do at church?
Well, we figured that the only way to be the church under such circumstances was in lament.
So I asked our music director, Wyndham Thiessen, to find music with a bluesy feel to it.
His reply was, “Okay, I’ll bring my National Steel.”
“You have a National Steel?” I asked. Wyndham had a classic blues guitar?
“Yes,” he replied, “I think we’ll need some Blind Willie Johnson.”
“And I think I’ll bring the cello as well,”
he continued.
“We should play some Bach.”
Blind Willie Johnson and Johanne Sebastian Bach,
to give birth to a church in the wake of disaster.
We were going to invite folks to church
early on a Tuesday morning,
while the world was still in shock,
and we were going to play a classic blues artist,
and perhaps the greatest Baroque composer of all time.
And so it was only appropriate that our first “Prayers of the People” should be a communal lament.
Rooted in the lament tradition of Hebrew psalms,
this lament was specific about the events that occasioned it.
The prayers also employed lyrics
from contemporary singer/songwriters
together with lines from songs that were sung in the service,
and ended with lines from the Book of Common Prayer.
To mark the 25th anniversary of that terrible day,
we return to those prayers:
The sections in bold were read by the congregation.
Let us pray:
How long, O Lord?
How long?
How long must bloodshed follow bloodshed?
How long must we be held captive
by imaginations of violence?
You created us for glory,
how long must we be architects of shame?
Creator God, who looks upon this world
through tear-filled eyes,
forgive us our violence,
restore humanity for glory
and cover our shame.
How long, O Lord?
How long?
We are waiting
waiting for those who are called by name
to hear their name from under the rubble in New York and Washington
to hear their name from a pit of obliteration in Pennsylvania
to hear their name from the refugee camps
to hear their name from the countless graves of terror
They are waiting, O Lord,
their days have been shortened
And they are waiting.
O Shepherd God,
these people have walked through the fire
but the fire burned them
they were consumed
We remember them with such sorrow
with such broken, broken hearts
They walked through the valley of the shadow of death
And now their families, their friends, their nation
– and now we too –
are in that valley
And we can’t find any pasture to lie in
We can’t find goodness and mercy
at least not here, and not yet
Comfort, Lord
Comfort those who grieve
Comfort parents who have lost children,
husbands, wives and partners who have lost lovers,
children who have lost their parents
Comfort, Lord
How long, Lord?
How long must there be lost sheep?
I know that you are a shepherd
who looks for the lost sheep,
but there’s never just one!
there are thousands … even millions!
Are you still looking?
Are you at the side of those
who are now digging through the rubble?
How long must there be lost sheep?
Compassionate God,
give strength to firefighters, police,
doctors, nurses, soldiers and volunteers
as they seek to find the lost,
and give grace to pastoral care-givers,
social workers and friends,
as they seek to comfort the comfortless,
give grace and strength to your church,
especially in New York and Washington.
How long, O Lord?
How long must our tears be our only food
day and night?
How long must our hearts be afraid?
How long must the violence continue?
How long must we be captivated
by blood thirst
and vengeance?
God of mercy,
who forgives sinners,
even the most violent sinners,
make us a people of mercy,
may that be our glory.
We pray this morning for the leaders of the world
for the envoys from Pakistan
meeting with Taliban leaders in Afghanistan,
We pray for President Bush,
his cabinet and the leaders of Congress,
And we pray an impossible prayer:
send your Spirit of forgiveness into their hearts,
replace rage with lament,
a spirit of vengeance with a spirit of wisdom.
How long, O Lord?
How long must we feel that
now we are all lost sheep,
alone and afraid?
Shepherd us, O God
beyond our wants,
beyond our fears,
from death into life
How long must we mourn?
How long in the darkness?
How long without peace?
How long in sorrow?
Healer of our every ill,
light of each tomorrow,
give us peace beyond our fears
and hope beyond our sorrows.
How long must we lament?
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
with nothing on my tongue
but, Hallelujah!
[Leonard Cohen, “Hallelujah”]
How long must we sing this song?
Till we get the healing done
[Van Morrison, “Till we get the Healing done”]
How long until we understand your will?
And draw us near
and bind us tight,
all your children here
in their rags of light;
in our rags of light
all dressed to kill;
and end this night
if it be your will.
[Leonard Cohen, “If it be your will”]
Give peace in our time,
O Lord
And mercifully hear us
when we call upon thee.
