Robert A. Beringer

We come to your house this day, our Father, to open our hearts to you, to thank you for your loving-kindness, and to acknowledge our deep dependence upon you. We confess that we have not always loved you with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind. We have made the little concerns of this earthly life so important that we have neglected your will for us. We have concentrated so intensely on schemes to get our own way, that we have forgotten your ways. We have allowed desire to lead us where we should have been led only by you.

(This liturgy is written intentionally for use in an interfaith setting.)

HYMN OF CELEBRATION
Lift Every Voice And Sing

GREETING
We have come together on this special day, to witness to the love of God in the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a martyr to the faith, in the cause of justice. We come from different cultures, different religions, but all committed to the right for which Dr. King fought, of freedom for all people.

Well, good, old Nathaniel. In a way, he's the mystery disciple of the New Testament. His name doesn't even rate a mention in Matthew, Mark, or Luke. Only in John's gospel do we hear about the disciple with the parochial ideas about Galilean towns.

Having trouble sleeping through the night? You're not alone. Samuel did, too. Sometimes you hear a haunting phrase that sticks with you years later. I heard one like that from Gardner Taylor, that great African-American preacher who once held forth in the pulpit of Concord Baptist Church in Brooklyn. I don't even remember the sermon, which is all right -- we're not supposed to remember sermons anymore than we should remember meals; we're supposed to be fed and challenged by them at the moment. I don't remember what Gardner Taylor was preaching that night.

I had lunch with a pastor of another congregation who wanted to welcome me to the community. We were old friends and had a great time together, reminiscing and catching up. That night, when we were talking together as a family about the things we'd done during the day, Brenda asked me how I knew him. Where had we crossed paths before?

"Well," I said, "his sister was my first girlfriend."

Of course, that got the attention of a few ears! "Daddy," said one of our daughters, "did you think a lot about girls when you were a teenager?" I had to admit that I did.

Recently, Rosa Parks was again in the news. You might remember her as the quiet, unassuming, middle-aged black woman with tired feet whose gentle protest on a bus in 1955 helped spark the Civil Rights Movement. This nationally-known figure had been living alone, in poor health, in near poverty, in inner-city Detroit. At age 82, a crack addict broke into her apartment. Rosa Parks was beaten and robbed.

A Service In Remembrance Of Martin Luther King, Jr.

What can we reasonably expect from the church during troubling times such as pandemics, economic downturns and racial tension in many communities? Charles Taylor’s book entitled A Secular Age, as been oft quoted to suggest that since most western hemisphere people have lost a sense of the enchanted, supernatural or transcendent nature of any God, organized religion has outlived its usefulness. Among Taylor’s many claims, is most common action in society does not need an act of God or great chain of extraordinary events (192).

Contents
“Prom Night” by Keith Hewitt
“The Heavy Lifting” by C. David McKirachan


Prom Night
by Keith Hewitt
1 Corinthians 6:1-20

Mark Randall, lost in the wailing guitar of Layla, almost missed the knock at his door. “C’mon in,” he said automatically, and reached for the volume on his record player, cranked it down a couple of notches. John Randall entered, hesitated, then closed the door behind himself and stood for a moment or two, head cocked slightly. “Is that that Clayton guy?”

I used to be quite good at identifying people I'd met previously. There was a time when I could boast that I never forgot a face. But as time has gone on, that skill has diminished to the point of non-existence. I now often fail to recognise people I've met before, or worse, I sometimes identify a complete stranger as someone I know. Naming someone correctly is even more difficult. I may recognise the face or know the person quite well, but be unable to remember their name.

Of course, the better I know someone, the more able I am to recognise them and