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She Says Lent – Week 2: Torches of Hope, by Debbie Holloway

This sermon was preached at St Lydia’s Dinner Church on Sunday Feb. 25 and Monday Feb. 26, 2018

JUDGES 4:1-9    After Ehud died, The Israelites again did what was evil in the sight of the Lord. 2 So the Lord sold them into the hand of King Jabin of Canaan, who reigned in Hazor; the commander of his army was Sisera, who lived in Harosheth-ha-goiim. 3 Then the Israelites cried out to the Lord for help; for [Sisera] had nine hundred chariots of iron, and had oppressed the Israelites cruelly [for] twenty years.

4 At that time Deborah, a prophetess, wife of Lappidoth, was judging Israel. 5 She used to sit under the palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim; and the Israelites came up to her for judgment. 6 She sent and summoned Barak son of Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali, and said to him, “The Lord, the God of Israel, commands you, ‘Go, take position at Mount Tabor, bringing ten thousand from the tribe of Naphtali and the tribe of Zebulun. 7 I will draw out Sisera, the general of Jabin’s army, to meet you by the Wadi Kishon with his chariots and his troops; and I will give him into your hand.’”

8 Barak said to her, “If you will go with me, I will go; but if you will not go with me, I will not go.” 9 And she said, “I will surely go with you; nevertheless, the road on which you are going will not lead to your glory, for the Lord will sell Sisera into the hand of a woman.” Then Deborah got up and went with Barak to Kedesh.


Before we get into the meat of the message, let me set the scene for this passage a little more clearly.


After the Israelites emerged triumphant from the land of Egypt (what is known as the Exodus) they were commanded to wander in the desert for a generation, to temper their rebellion and strengthen their faith in the Lord who had rescued them. Then when Moses died, Joshua led Israel into the conquest of Canaan – the land the Lord had promised to their children. But the conquest was messy and riddled with compromise and disobedience. In the end, Israelites were living with the people they were supposed to drive out, displacing their own daughters by marrying their sons to Canaanites, worshipping foreign gods, and even slipping back under the rule of pagan leaders. They were no longer set apart. They were no longer seen as the Lord’s people.


During this period, 6 Israelite leaders arose – called Judges – who made a name for themselves (both in good and bad ways) amongst both the people of Canaan and the people of the Lord. The first two, Othniel and Ehud, were like knights from a storybook. They defeated enemies, won the hand of clever maidens, and used their smarts to play crafty tricks resulting in Israelite liberation. But a few decades after each noble judge died, the people of Israel would return to a common refrain:


Again, they would do evil in the eyes of the Lord. Read the passage again, you’ll see.



Political, social, and religious “movements” are a little nerve-wracking to me. I never quite know where to put myself, or how loudly to assert myself, during “movements.” I have never changed the filter of my facebook profile picture to any symbol or any flag. I don’t copy and paste statuses. I’ve somehow never ended up at a march or a protest. This hesitancy isn’t because I lack strong convictions. Only that I find myself a little lost, sometimes, in knowing how Who I Am relates to What I Think and How I Express That to Others. Or perhaps it’s that I need more time to watch, wait, and wonder, before I can piece together how my experiences fit in with the larger human story going on around me.


I remember the sorrow, and disappointment, and quietness I felt the week that the women on my facebook and twitter feeds began changing their statuses to read “me, too.” Sometimes those posts came with stories, or exhortations. Often, it was just those two small words: “me, too.”


Isn’t it wild that two words can somehow carry so much weight? The weight of being pushed aside, of not being listened to, of not being treated with humanity. The weight of being hurt. Maybe most dangerously, the weight of losing confidence in our own voices, losing community, losing hope, and losing direction. Reading “me, too” meant knowing that someone I love had been caught inside the teeth of the destructive power systems which rule our world, and acknowledging that, of course, I have been too. When we face uphill battles like sexism, workplace harassment, and abuse, it’s easy to feel crushed. It’s easy to lose sight of our identity…to lose hope that things can ever be better.


Followers of Christ choose to emulate Christ – to lift up where others tear down. To value and honor where others debase. But it’s hard to do that. Choosing courage and joy is actually a rough road to walk. Sometimes it feels impossible for us to light the path for others, when our own paths feel so dark and difficult.


That’s why I’m grateful for Deborah. And tonight I want to share more about that gratitude with all of you. Because I think sometimes, in the midst of the darkness and quietness in a season like Lent, we have to take time for stories like hers.


For those of you who haven’t spent as much time with the Hebrew Bible, the book of Judges is largely a story about the suffering of women. It’s about the downward spiral of a nation that is lawless, that is forgetting its God, and neglecting the oppressed and powerless. Our beloved coordinator Hannah is tackling some of these “texts of terror” in a few weeks, so I won’t trod on her stories. Suffice it to say, for now, that Deborah is a shining beacon of light that pierces the darkness of this book.


This character, Deborah, lived in a very different-looking world. The only god she served was the warrior God YHWH, so holy and mighty that he could supercede the powers of every Egyptian god, part seas for his followers, and drop food from the heavens every morning to sustain his children in the desert. This was a land of burnt offerings and blood; a land where the command from a man could mean the instant death of his wife, daughter, or slave. A world where, in the stories told around the fires at night, many female characters went nameless, or were entirely defined by their fathers and brothers.


And then in Judges 4, sitting beneath her palm tree, we meet Deborah. She is the one holding court and settling disputes. She is the one Israel looks to as its leader. She is the one receiving words from YHWH and commanding soldiers. If this isn’t already music to your ears, the best is yet to come.


Her military general, Barak, won’t go into battle without her. Why? we are left to wonder. Is he testing her authority? Disbelieving her because she is a woman? Is he simply scared, one member in the parade of cowardly men scattered throughout the book of Judges? The text isn’t explicit. But Deborah makes it clear that because of his reluctance, the world will know that this battle – at least this one Israelite victory – is credited to a woman.


But it gets even better than that. The victory goes to two women. First, there was Deborah, who made the call and led the charge. Bringing up the rear was Jael, another woman whose story has become quite famous. After offering food and shelter to the oppressive general Sisera, enemy of Israel, Jael drives a tent peg through his face, securing a resounding defeat over the now-scattered Canaanite army.


I’ll be the first to admit, war is an ugly way to talk about hope. But we have to step back into the world of the Ancient Near East and let go of our modern sensibilities for a just few minutes. For the Israelites, military losses and victories helped to define their early relationship to the power they knew as YHWH. They had no Bible; they had no creeds. They had experiences with this powerful, holy, Spirit. Losses forced them to examine their own faithlessness, disobedience, and cruelty. Victories reminded them that they were not alone in the universe. That their God was looking out for them. And usually, when YHWH was involved, the circumstances were so unusual that they had no choice but to step back and give ALL credit to the Lord.


When the battle was over, Deborah sang a joyful song.


“Hear, O ye kings;

give ear, O ye princes;

I, even I, will sing unto the Lord;

I will sing praise to the Lord God of Israel.”


She sang like Miriam sang, after Israel escaped Pharaoh through the red sea:


“I will sing to the Lord!

   He has done great things.

He threw horse and rider

   into the sea.”


Like Christ’s mother Mary sang, after God’s Angel honored her as the vessel of the coming Messiah:


“God brought down rulers from their thrones

   and raised up the humble people.

He filled the hungry with good things,

   but he sent the rich away with nothing.”


Even though some of my faith traditions seem as old as stone, and sometimes shrouded in much violence and, yes, patriarchy, I am so grateful to have the songs and victories of these women to light the way for me in times that seem so dark. The songs of Miriam and Deborah are thought by many scholars to be the oldest Hebrew poems – some of the first parts of what we now call The Bible to be written down. That’s cool, right?


If you look at your reading again, you’ll notice one detail I haven’t mention yet. Deborah is described as the “wife of Lappidoth.” And while that is probably a correct translation of the Hebrew, another valid reading of that phrase could be “woman of fire.” There is no distinction between the words “woman” and “wife” in Hebrew; “lappidoth” is a plural of the word for “flame” or “fire.” Names are incredibly meaningful in the Hebrew Bible, and Deborah here is no exception. Her given name means “honey bee” – evoking images of sweet nourishment, sustenance. Remember the Promised Land was called “the land of milk and honey”? But she is also a woman of fire – a torch that Israel was able to follow into the darkness, which eventually culminated in a celebration of victorious light.


The gospel is at work here. Not only in Mary’s song, and the life of her son, our Christ. The gospel is at work in Miriam’s song. The gospel is at work here with Deborah. The gospel is at work in Rosemarie Aquilina, a modern day judge who recently allowed more than 100 young female athletes to give testimony before sentencing their sexual abuser to prison. The gospel is at work in the 98% of black female voters who stood up, and showed up, to keep a child molester out of office in Alabama.


YHWH gave the Israelites a miraculous pillar of fire to light their way by night as they fled Pharaoh’s army. And these stories, old and new, are the torches that God is giving us to warm ourselves when the world freezes; to light our way in dark times. We must still walk the path ourselves, make no mistake. But we need light to see by! Light won’t make our feet move. Light won’t sustain us, or make us take that next step. But the light gives us bravery to know where we are going. To know who goes before us. To know that we are not alone.


Who am I in this world of movements and arguments and resistance? Who am I when I’m not sure if I can make a difference? When I’m tempted to just keep to the status quo or remain silent or back down from a challenge?


I am Deborah.


It’s not just something on my driver’s license or what I sign on the back of checks. This name has been a part of me for twenty-eight years, the most visible part of my identity. The strange power of names to shape and guide has led me to study and fall so deeply in love with the story of this first Deborah, which so many others miss or forget about even if they grow up in church.


I have been told many untruths. I have been told that women were never meant to occupy traditionally male spaces, like the courtroom, the battlefield, or the white house. I have been told that God only places women in leadership as a backup plan – when there are no men around to do anything. But I know that I don’t have to listen to those words. Because I have Deborah. Here, in the most patriarchal part of my holy book, is Deborah, woman of the flames, who lights the way into battle and claims victory in YHWH’s name – and her own name. My name.


What do you have to cling to when the world seems broken beyond repair, and when you have been discouraged for so many years, and it seems like justice and equality are so far off? You have Mary and Martha, as Kirstin reminded us last week. You have Miriam. You have Deborah. You have Mother Teresa and Annie Lee Cooper. Saint Joan of Arc and Sojourner Truth. Harriet Tubman and Corrie Ten Boom. We each fight our different battles, but in looking to our sisters in faith, all of us can learn to be confident in our own individual destiny, mission, identity, and worth. We can be reminded that we are beloved, capable, godly leaders. These torches help us grasp on again to who we are – they help us become better and stronger and braver. We are not without hope. We are not without light.

At St. Lydia’s this season we will take time after the sermon to reflect and confess. We’ll write our confessions and hang them from the branches above.


What do you feel moved to confess?


Who are some torches you can pay attention to, to help light your way in times of darkness? How can you go on to light the way for others? What stands in your way of finding hope and light in Christ?

Debbie Holloway makes her home in Brooklyn, New York. She loves film critique, creativity, advocating for kindness, Mexican food, yoga, GIFs, getting rush tickets for Broadway shows, and reading on the subway. You can find her songleading at cooking at St. Lydia’s, writing at Narrative Muse, and occasionally making pictures here.

Sermon sources:

Women’s Bible Commentary, Carol Ann Newsom, Sharon H. Ringe

Posted in: Sermons

She Says Lent – Week 1: Revisiting Martha & Mary, by Kirstin Swanson

This sermon was preached at St Lydia’s Dinner Church on Sunday Feb. 17 and Monday Feb. 18, 2018

Revisiting Martha and Mary

Luke 10:38 – 42: Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

This scripture may be familiar. It shares the story of Mary, Martha and Jesus. A traditional interpretation of this story tells the reader that Martha, the domestic diva who is waiting on Jesus, chastises her sister Mary by telling Jesus he has to tell Mary to help her. Jesus retorts that Martha is worrying about things which are unimportant; Mary has made the better choice.

Who are you, Martha, to worry about food prep and dishes when there are lessons to learn at the feet of Jesus?

I chose to preach from this scripture because I heard in it a lesson about how Jesus treated the women in his life. I felt that, in this #metoo moment, we needed to look at Jesus’ actual interactions with women to develop a response that is compassionate and authentically Christian.

Today St. Lydia’s begins a series of sermons inspired by the #metoo movement. In the last several months, women and men around the country have shared their stories of harassment and violence using the #metoo hashtag.

One day last year, I took to Facebook and posted a status expressing my own frustration at the Church’s lack of response to the avalanche of allegations tumbling from Hollywood sets, the corridors of Congress and the White House, the quiet offices where night crews clean, and the hot fields where farm workers harvest. Women across the country were calling out for healing and the church felt eerily silent. This is an issue of justice, of equality. Churches were standing up against the hate and anger sweeping our country, issuing statements on immigration, on white supremacy, on economic injustice.

Where was the church’s voice on this?

This Facebook post prompted fellow congregant Angela Morris to reach out and let me know that my post impacted her, and asked if I would consider preaching on this issue. That blossomed into the series of conversations St. Lydia’s will be having this week and for the next five weeks as we observe Lent.

Last Wednesday, St. Lydia’s joined with churches around the world to mark the beginning of Lent. This is a season of the church year that calls people to look at their lives and consider whether they are responding fully to God’s call. As part of this reflection, during Lent, St. Lydia’s takes on the discipline of confession.

This season, you will hear the voices of several St. Lydia’s women try to weave together a tapestry of understanding, to present stories and experiences that point towards Jesus and how his example calls us to respond. Together, we will also reflect on how we may unwittingly perpetuate the conditions of patriarchy which led to the need for this movement, and then turn, and do better.


Maybe our first confession needs to be about Martha and Mary.

I have a mother who one could say is firmly on the Mary side of the Martha-Mary dichotomy. She is rarely in the kitchen preparing meals when company is over; she’d rather cater so as to not miss any of the action, and encourages a casual, potluck approach. She lives a life that challenges conceptions about a woman’s place: an ordained deacon, she left the Roman Catholic Church when my brother was a baby. In the book of advice my bridesmaids passed around at my bridal shower she wrote: “a clean house is a sign of a life not lived.” Clearly, a Mary.

My grandmother, her mother-in-law, was firmly a Martha. She taught me sewing, how to make bookmarks from plastic canvas, the importance of perfectly filed nails, and how to set a well-appointed table. She baked, she cooked, and her home was always impeccably clean. Towards the end of her life she complained that her home health aide couldn’t vacuum without leaving tracks behind in the wall-to-wall carpeting.

She had standards. Martha, all the way.

These two women are, we are traditionally told, who we need to choose between.

Are you a Martha?

Or a Mary?

Or are you sometimes one or the other?

And what does Jesus have against Martha anyway?


What if I told you, “nothing”?

That maybe Martha is suffering from the same linguistic assumptions that punish modern women for being aggressive, or loud, or strong?

That maybe we got Martha and Mary all wrong?


OK, so here is where I am going to get a little granular and take a close look at language. Because sometimes what a writer writes is different than what a reader reads. What we hear is always shaped by context.

So first: where is this story in the Bible and who are the characters?

This story is part of the Gospel according to Luke, one of the four books in the Bible that tells the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. The author of Luke also wrote the Acts of the Apostles, the story of the early church immediately following Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Remember this: it’s important later.

Mary and Martha are sisters, and have a brother named Lazarus. They live in Bethany, outside of Jerusalem. In another Gospel, the Gospel according to John, we hear more of the close relationship between Jesus, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. In John, Jesus comes to Bethany to respond to the sisters’ call for help when Lazarus falls ill and dies. Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. These siblings are Jesus’ friends and disciples. He loves them and they love him.

This is important too.

Let’s dive, then, into this story from Luke.

Luke 10:40 says: “Martha was distracted with much serving.” Feminist theologian Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza casts doubt on a key component of the traditional interpretation of this text. Fiorenza focuses on the Greek word for “serve”, diakonia. This word is the origin of the word “deacon.” While this word could be interpreted as serving food, this is not how the word must be interpreted. Assuming that Martha must have been serving food says more about what we hear as listeners than what Martha was actually doing.

Might Martha instead be burned out from her work as a deacon? Could her ministry in Bethany be wearing her out? Let’s dig a little bit deeper.

Biblical scholar Mary Stromer Hanson has delved deeply into the language of this passage, and I highlight two of her concerns with the traditional interpretation here. First: many translations of this passage leave out a key word: “also”. As in “Mary, who also sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.” Does this mean Martha did too? And if our translation of diakonia was off, what else are we missing here?

In the Book of Acts, Paul, one of Christianity’s earliest and most prolific writers and missionaries, describes himself in his pre-conversion life as one who sat at the feet of Gamaliel. An important detail of Paul’s life is that, before he converted to Christianity, he was not only Jewish, but persecuted followers of Jesus. Gamaliel trained Paul; you could say that, before Paul became a Christian, he was Gamaliel’s disciple. Now remember: Luke wrote the book of Acts. Could this phrase, “sit at the feet of,” used in two places by the same author, have a non-literal meaning?

Traditionally, the image of Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus conjures up a different scene than Paul at the feet of Gamaliel.

Google it. You’ll see what I mean. Paul, at the feet of Gamaliel, is hard at work as a scholar. Mary, at the feet of Jesus, looks like a love-sick teenager. She doesn’t even have a notebook!

Hanson suggests that this phrase, “to sit at the feet of,” is an idiom referring to one who follows, one who is a disciple. In this rendering, Mary and Martha are disciples of Jesus, on equal footing with each other, and partners in his work on earth.


Are you with me so far? OK. Let’s take another step away from the usual scene.

What if Mary is not even there?

What if it’s just Martha and Jesus?

A second point from Hanson is that there is no direct evidence in the text that Mary is present.

She never actually speaks.

Now imagine a different scene. Martha is worn out from her work as a disciple in Bethany. Jesus arrives and she greets him…and launches right into the complaints. Mary is so busy with what Jesus has her doing that Martha is struggling to get all her ministry done herself. She asks Jesus to redeploy the resources he has in Bethany: assign Mary to me!


Let’s listen to a different translation of this scripture, one Hanson proposes:

As they were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha received him. She had a sister called Mary, who also was one who sat at the Lord’s feet, always listening to his words. But Martha was constantly torn apart concerning much ministry. She suddenly approached him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister regularly leaves me to minister alone? Tell her therefore that she may give me a hand.”

But the Lord answered her saying, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and agitated concerning much, but only one thing is needed: For Mary has chosen good and it will not be taken away from her.”

Jesus tells Martha not that Mary’s choice is better, but that it is her calling. Martha’s got to re-focus. Mary has her ministry, and Martha’s got hers. These ministries are both good; each is suited to the woman who carries them out. Each woman needs to be free to live into her call.


What is not abundantly clear is what ministry Mary and Martha are engaged in. Some scholarship suggests Martha is engaged in some sort of home-based ministry, something along the lines of a house church, while Mary is more of an itinerant missionary, out in the world sharing the message of Jesus. This could be an additional source of distress for Martha: she loves her sister and worries for her safety as she engages in this outwardly-focused ministry.


So what does this mean for #metoo? What does this little corner of the tapestry tell us today?

First: Jesus was a good boss! He knew from his relationship with Mary and Martha what Martha needed to hear to get going again. I imagine his words not like a reproach, but as a soothing response – and I would like to imagine the conversation continuing.

Secondly: everyone gets burned out at work. We all need to be able to bring our concerns to our bosses and get support – not a quid pro quo proposition.

Finally: women’s work is valuable, valued, and varied. There is no one way for women to live and move in this world: each of us has a call to answer. You do not have to choose between Martha and Mary. You only have to choose Jesus, and then choose you.


At St. Lydia’s this season we will take time after the sermon to reflect and confess.  What do you feel moved to confess?

Here’s a question to consider: how has your language been shaped by perceptions of gender, or your perceptions of gender shaped your language?

Kirstin Swanson lives and works in Staten Island, NY. Sometimes you’ll find her posting to her blog, writing for d365, or helping community organizations find funding. A regular Waffle Church attendee at St. Lydia’s, she’s recently begun serving as a song leader at Dinner Church. She has worshiped and served in lay leadership in Episcopal churches in the New York City area, and is blessed to share her home with her husband and two young children.


 Sermon Sources:

A New View of Mary and Martha: https://eewc.com/new-view-mary-martha/

Mary of Bethany: Her Leadership Uncovered:


What was Martha Doing? Diakonia in Luke 10:38-42


Posted in: Sermons

She Says Lent – a sermon series responding to #MeToo

The season of Lent is a time to turn down the noise and listen to God’s voice. We have heard: “me, too.” When these stories travel towards the cross of Christ’s death and resurrection, what is revealed?

Over the six weeks of Lent, the women of St. Lydia’s will trouble the waters of #MeToo and the church’s paltry response, dismantle patriarchy, reclaim women in the Bible, rupture male-female binaries, and bring Jesus’s voice back into the conversation.

This Lent the discussion on power, love, and Christian witness is more important than ever.

You are very welcome here.

Posted in: Sermons

Songs for Lent 2018

Lent is the time when we wander in the wilderness together, and find still quiet spaces to listen for the voice of God. Everything gets a little more spare, our music included.


1) Gathering Song

A Kyrie Eleison, which means, “Lord, Have Mercy.” This Kyrie is from the Iona Community in Scotland.

John Bell Kyrie


2) Candle Lighting Song

This juicy tune, “Here is Bread for the Hungry Soul,” which reminds us we are forgiven, and also that we’re going to eat soon! The harmonies are recorded for you, but folks will mostly improvise off the melody.

Note: we usually flip the words to, “here is bread for the hungry heart, here is wine for the thirsty soul, because I think the alliteration sounds better and makes the song easier to remember!

Here is Bread for the Hungry Soul,” words: Mary Kay Beall; music: John Carter

Sheet Music


3) Table Acclamation

We’ll use the very simple Lent Table Acclamation


4) Prayer Song

What We Need Is Here, written by the students of the Episcopal Student Group at MIT. A lovely setting of the first line of the poem by Wendall Berry.


5) Offering Song

Love and Faithfulness Shall Lead


6) Closing Hymn

What Wondrous Love is This

*Please note, the harmonies on this recording are not the harmonies from our current sheet music.

Posted in: Songs We Sing

Songs for Epiphany 2018

Happy New Year! Here’s the music we’ll be singing this Epiphany season.

1) Gathering Song
Arise, Shine
Jyothi Dho Prabhu (Give Us Light)

2) Candle Lighting Song
The Light of Christ Has Come Into the World

3) Table Acclamation
Ordinary Table Acclamation (Scott)

4) Prayer Song
Song Leader’s Choice

5) Offering Song
Mxadana Alleluia

6) Final Hymn
Songs of Thankfulness and Praise

Posted in: Songs We Sing

Holding Silence

Here’s a song that came to me this Advent. Lyrics below, recording and sheet music linked. Enjoy. -Angela

Holding fear like a baby
Holding darkness like light
Holding space for a question
Holding silence

Christ come near us, Christ come in
We are waiting

Christ come near us, Christ come in
We are waiting

Holding Silence by Angela Morris – recording

Sheet Music

Posted in: Songs We Sing

Songs for Advent 2017

Hello song leaders and hello everyone! Here’s the music we’ll be singing this Advent season. We observe a 7-week Advent at St. Lydia’s, which includes our services from Nov 12 to Dec 24. We’ll make a couple changes to the music when the month changes. Click the linked song titles to hear the recordings to learn the songs.

1) Gathering Song
Come O Lord and Set Us Free

O Come O Come Emmanuel

Dec 3, 4: Verse 1
Dec 10, 11: Verse 2
Dec 17, 18: Verse 7
Dec 24: your choice

2) Candle Lighting Song
Evening Lamps Are Lit

3) Table Acclamation
Advent Table Acclamation

4) Prayer Song
During Advent, we’ll use the peaceful Iona Kyrie as a prayer song

5) Offering Song
 God Came Down

6) Final Hymn
O Come Divine Messiah

People Look East

Posted in: Songs We Sing

O Come Divine Messiah

This advent carol is the English version of an old French hymn.

Listen to a version here, and see the sheet music here !

Posted in: Songs We Sing

God Came Down

Here’s a song we’ll use as a re-gathering song as we pass the offering plate.

We’ll make a couple tweaks to the words of the song. These are the words we’ll use:
God came down that we may know love
God came down that we may know love
God came down that we may know love
Hallelujah forevermore

As you go along, feel free to add different words in place of “love,” like “hope,” “peace,” “joy…”

Listen to a version here, but remember that we’re using slightly different words!

Posted in: Songs We Sing

Songs for All Saints 2017

Hello dear songleaders,

This Sunday and Monday we celebrate All Saints’ Day by remembering loved ones who have died. We’ll use the table acclamation usually used during Lent.

1) Gathering & Candle Lighting Song
Receive, O Earth

2) Song for Hanging Photos
Receive, O Earth

3) Table Acclamation
Lent Table Acclamation

4) Prayer Song
I Will Guide Thee

5) Offering Song
Zimbabwe Alleluia

6) Final Hymn
Sing With All the Saints in Glory

Posted in: Songs We Sing