wednesday’s workshop

i’ve been asked a number of times recently what my process is for writing liturgy – and i’ve been trying to find ways of articulating it for a workshop i’m leading on wednesday.

in writing liturgies for prison, i try to find words to name where we are, and to name what it is we wait for – what the ancient stories of faith tell us god does. it’s not that we have any confidence it’s going to happen again, but we know [from those ancient stories of faith] that this is the only way it can happen again.

the act of faith that is the foundation of the liturgies is not believing in god, or the actions of god, rather it’s that the telling and the asking will not break us. or that the breaking will not be the end.

i’m really hopeless at writing hope. i know people do write fabulous liturgies from a perspective of faith – of the wondrous things god does and will do. i don’t… i write best from a perspective of faithlessness. i honestly don’t know if god – whatever / whoever god is – will do what god does again. when i’m most honest to that, people tell me they see themselves in what i write.