A Litany of Lament

A litany of lament praying for those wounded by people who claim the name of Jesus. Please pray with me.

Christians love to honor our martyrs, the men, women, and children who died in imitation of their Savior, refusing to betray the one who laid down his life for them.

But we forget that historically, we aren’t always the oppressed. We have all too often been the oppressors. Nations have committed atrocities in the name of Jesus. Christian cultures have victimized those who don’t embrace our creed or who break moral or even cultural norms. Those who represent the Church have abused children and adults, sometimes secretly and sometimes to public acclaim.

On this account, I generally highlight the heroes, the ones who remind us who we ought to be and who show us how to fight against evil within the Church as much as without.

But we can’t ignore the atrocities perpetrated in the name of Jesus, in our names. We can’t gloss over the evils of the past (and, Lord have mercy, the present) with a glib statement that racism and misogyny and rape and murder were never *Church teaching* as though the wickedness doesn’t matter because we have doctrines against it.

These were our people.

These were our ancestors.

We share a name, a heritage, a faith.

And when we look away from the evil, we take their side. When we brush off the ugliness committed in our name, we stand with the aggressors. When we say, “Yes, but…” and hold up our own examples of oppression or our human rights heroes or our doctrine that decries the actions that were still praised or accepted or ignored—then we further wound the marginalized and abused.

Praise God that we can do something. We can learn about the atrocities. We can refuse to look away. We can donate to groups that are doing the work of bringing healing.

We can fast and pray, offering reparations for the ways the Church and her members have wounded the people so deeply loved by God, the people Jesus died for. We can enter into the burning, wounded, beating Sacred Heart of Jesus and hold our brothers and sisters there, begging the Lord for mercy, for healing, for justice.

Let us pray.

A Litany of Lament

For Native children stolen from their families and poisoned against their people, for the cultures destroyed and the souls driven from Jesus, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

For the people kidnapped and enslaved, abused by Christians and told that resistance was a sin, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

For the Jewish people discriminated against, forced to convert, abused, and murdered for sharing a faith with Jesus and his mother, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

For all people who have suffered at the hands of Catholics because they were not themselves Catholic, for fellow Christians disdained or killed, for Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists and pagans and every member of every religion abused, oppressed, robbed of their faith, forced to convert, or killed, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

For the children and vulnerable adults abused by priests and religious and others who claimed the name of Jesus, for those who lost peace and innocence and trust in God’s Church, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

For those women in crisis pregnancies who were vilified, who were lied to, who were forced or coerced into making an adoption plan, who were sent away, whose babies were stolen, who were advised to abort, who were abandoned, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

For people denied access to the Sacraments, barred from religious orders, made to receive communion last, forced into segregated churches, othered, excluded, not represented, and made to feel like they don’t belong because of their race, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

For the people excluded, ignored, rejected, vilified, taught to hate themselves, or taught that God hates them for their sexuality, their gender identity, their mental illness, their disability, their poverty, their addiction, their marital status, their infertility, their chronic illness, their bereavement, or the circumstances of their birth, we pray,

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, bring healing.
Lord, let there be justice.

(Feel free to print and share)

Author: Meg

I'm a Catholic, madly in love with the Lord, His Word, His Bride the Church, and especially His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Eucharist. I'm committed to the Church not because I was raised this way but because the Lord has drawn my heart and convicted my reason. After 2 degrees in theology and 5 years in the classroom, I quit my 9-5 to follow Christ more literally. Since May of 2012, I've been a hobo for Christ; I live out of my car and travel the country speaking to youth and adults, giving retreats, blogging, and trying to rock the world for Jesus.

One thought on “A Litany of Lament”

  1. Thank you Meg for this moving lament. I’m using it at Zoom Evening Prayer for York Minster – it so echoes the theme of the readings.

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