Around a hundred people walked through Llandudno's Mistyn Street for the Annual Walk of Witness on Good Friday culminating in an open air service outside Holy Trinity Parish Church.
The prayers were taken from David Rhodes' reflections in "It Wasn't the Nails" published by Wild Goose Publications in 2015.
It’s easy to think of the Crucifixion as something that happened a long time ago. But for some people every day is Good Friday. People forced into poverty, those who are homeless. Those seeking asylum. People crushed by debt and treated with contempt by the powerful. Jesus is crucified today in their suffering …..
Asylum seekers Lord. It’s so easy to think of asylum seekers (when we think of them at all) as Other. As foreign, different in colour and perhaps religion. We think of them as distant. We are tempted to think of them coming to ‘our’ country. Yes, there’s distance and a feeling of separation in the idea of asylum. But help us, Lord, to remember that, at the hour of our own death, we ourselves will be asylum seekers. Hoping and praying for sanctuary and a loving welcome with you in heaven. Let our own mortality help us to be one with those who seek asylum in Britain today. And let us offer them gladly the hospitality of love that is your gift to us all.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Debt: Why did we do it, Lord? Rewrite your prayer. You said “cancel our debts”, but we preferred “forgive us our trespasses”, - which sounds a lot more dignified. Moderate. Respectable. But you, it seems, said debts – and you said it to people experiencing crushing debt. Debt that brought dishonour, destitution, slavery and death. We prefer the calm of organised religion, but your focus was on organised greed and oppression. Debt is still with us today. Help us, Lord, to remember that debt and the struggle for justice are at the heart of our spirituality. And at the heart of Your Prayer.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Food banks: OK, Lord, we’ve got it now. Money banks are bad, food banks are good. And, it has to be said, food banks certainly help people: lots of hungry people. They’re a symbol of caring and compassion. So, why didn’t you set up food banks, Lord? Or walk-in clinics, come to that? There were vast numbers of hungry and sick people in first-century Palestine. It’s only very gradually we realise your miracles were a sign not a solution. Your solution was an end to injustice and oppression. But that threatened the system: the system operated by the rich and powerful. Looking back on all that, it’s clear that the Cross was inevitable. But no one is likely to get crucified for running a food bank. Which should make us think. Maybe we need to go beyond the Good Samaritan, as you did.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
The homeless: Lord, there’s a children’s game of skimming flat pebbles across a lake: watching them bounce along its surface. Maybe you played the game as a child at the Sea of Galilee. The trouble is, Lord, we play that game with the Gospel. We skim over it. You said ‘the son of man has nowhere to lay his head’. We read those familiar words, but we don’t want to let them sink in. We don’t really take in the fact that you were often homeless: no shelter, no bed, no toilet paper. You were alongside the homeless. And they, in turn, gave you loyalty and love. Today you meet us among the homeless. And in that encounter, we discover the depth of your love – for them and for ourselves.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
The living wage: They were a great idea, Lord. Your parables. Simple stories with simple messages. But it seems we still manage to get them wrong. The labourers in the vineyard, for example. Was that about a generous landowner? An image of God himself? Or was it about exploitation: a rich man paying starvation wages to zero-hours labourers? And then, on top of that, setting them at each other’s throats? Was there a hard edge to your story? One that the poor and those turned off their land would have recognised? You came that we may have life. All of us. That means justice, respect and a ‘living’ wage. A life-giving wage. In a world of plenty, anything less than that is an injustice. A denial of your promise. God’s promise.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Welfare and work: Lord, why do so many people snigger at the mention of health and safety? Isn’t that exactly what we wish for our loved ones? We care about their well-being. Their welfare. That’s what love means, isn’t it? So how is it that ‘welfare’ has become such a dirty word in the tabloids and in the mouths of so many politicians? An insult. A judgement. An expression of sneering contempt. But you were born into the world because of the Father’s concern for our welfare. Our well-being. Our shalom.
Lord, let us find useful, meaningful work as we can, but let us always seek the welfare, the health and the safety, of our neighbour. Even of our politicians.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Child poverty: Lord, it’s amazing that many centuries ago we started cutting and pasting the Gospel. The bits we were uncomfortable with got deleted: at least in our minds. Like when you said you came to bring good news to the poor. But we deleted ‘to the poor’ and inserted the words: to us. You said the last shall be first. But a church controlled by men never asked who ‘the last’ actually were. They were the women and the children: the ones without power. Maybe those at the foot of the cross. So when we pray for an end to child poverty, help us to remember, Lord, that in those words we come very close to your love, your pain – and to your anger at injustice.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
It’s easy to think of the Crucifixion as something that happened a long time ago. But for some people every day is Good Friday. People forced into poverty, those who are homeless. Those seeking asylum. People crushed by debt and treated with contempt by the powerful. Jesus is crucified today in their suffering …..
Asylum seekers Lord. It’s so easy to think of asylum seekers (when we think of them at all) as Other. As foreign, different in colour and perhaps religion. We think of them as distant. We are tempted to think of them coming to ‘our’ country. Yes, there’s distance and a feeling of separation in the idea of asylum. But help us, Lord, to remember that, at the hour of our own death, we ourselves will be asylum seekers. Hoping and praying for sanctuary and a loving welcome with you in heaven. Let our own mortality help us to be one with those who seek asylum in Britain today. And let us offer them gladly the hospitality of love that is your gift to us all.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Debt: Why did we do it, Lord? Rewrite your prayer. You said “cancel our debts”, but we preferred “forgive us our trespasses”, - which sounds a lot more dignified. Moderate. Respectable. But you, it seems, said debts – and you said it to people experiencing crushing debt. Debt that brought dishonour, destitution, slavery and death. We prefer the calm of organised religion, but your focus was on organised greed and oppression. Debt is still with us today. Help us, Lord, to remember that debt and the struggle for justice are at the heart of our spirituality. And at the heart of Your Prayer.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Food banks: OK, Lord, we’ve got it now. Money banks are bad, food banks are good. And, it has to be said, food banks certainly help people: lots of hungry people. They’re a symbol of caring and compassion. So, why didn’t you set up food banks, Lord? Or walk-in clinics, come to that? There were vast numbers of hungry and sick people in first-century Palestine. It’s only very gradually we realise your miracles were a sign not a solution. Your solution was an end to injustice and oppression. But that threatened the system: the system operated by the rich and powerful. Looking back on all that, it’s clear that the Cross was inevitable. But no one is likely to get crucified for running a food bank. Which should make us think. Maybe we need to go beyond the Good Samaritan, as you did.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
The homeless: Lord, there’s a children’s game of skimming flat pebbles across a lake: watching them bounce along its surface. Maybe you played the game as a child at the Sea of Galilee. The trouble is, Lord, we play that game with the Gospel. We skim over it. You said ‘the son of man has nowhere to lay his head’. We read those familiar words, but we don’t want to let them sink in. We don’t really take in the fact that you were often homeless: no shelter, no bed, no toilet paper. You were alongside the homeless. And they, in turn, gave you loyalty and love. Today you meet us among the homeless. And in that encounter, we discover the depth of your love – for them and for ourselves.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
The living wage: They were a great idea, Lord. Your parables. Simple stories with simple messages. But it seems we still manage to get them wrong. The labourers in the vineyard, for example. Was that about a generous landowner? An image of God himself? Or was it about exploitation: a rich man paying starvation wages to zero-hours labourers? And then, on top of that, setting them at each other’s throats? Was there a hard edge to your story? One that the poor and those turned off their land would have recognised? You came that we may have life. All of us. That means justice, respect and a ‘living’ wage. A life-giving wage. In a world of plenty, anything less than that is an injustice. A denial of your promise. God’s promise.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Welfare and work: Lord, why do so many people snigger at the mention of health and safety? Isn’t that exactly what we wish for our loved ones? We care about their well-being. Their welfare. That’s what love means, isn’t it? So how is it that ‘welfare’ has become such a dirty word in the tabloids and in the mouths of so many politicians? An insult. A judgement. An expression of sneering contempt. But you were born into the world because of the Father’s concern for our welfare. Our well-being. Our shalom.
Lord, let us find useful, meaningful work as we can, but let us always seek the welfare, the health and the safety, of our neighbour. Even of our politicians.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
Child poverty: Lord, it’s amazing that many centuries ago we started cutting and pasting the Gospel. The bits we were uncomfortable with got deleted: at least in our minds. Like when you said you came to bring good news to the poor. But we deleted ‘to the poor’ and inserted the words: to us. You said the last shall be first. But a church controlled by men never asked who ‘the last’ actually were. They were the women and the children: the ones without power. Maybe those at the foot of the cross. So when we pray for an end to child poverty, help us to remember, Lord, that in those words we come very close to your love, your pain – and to your anger at injustice.
Lord in your mercy Hear our prayer.
