28 October 2025 – Chapel

This service is structured to follow the arc of our course: moving from grounding and naming the crisis (lament) to self-reflection (positionality), then to hearing from many forms of wisdom, and finally, to a commitment to concrete action (praxis).

Resisting Biocide: A Service of Lament, Kinship, and Praxis

Prelude

“Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid)” by Sufjan Stevens

Gathering: Grounding in Place and Story

Welcome and Call to Worship

Welcome to this time of reflection. We gather today not as masters of the earth, but as part of it. We come from a class that calls us to confront ‘biocide’—the systemic destruction of life. But before we analyze, we must connect. Our work must be grounded not just in theory, but in relationship. In that spirit, we begin as we began our class, by grounding ourselves in story.

Embodied Storytelling Circle

Bethany: “We will now take two minutes for a ‘Foundational Storytelling Circle’. Please turn to one person near you. One of you will speak for one minute, and the other will practice ‘deep listening’ by offering full presence and attention to the person speaking. Then, you will switch.

The prompt is: ‘Share a brief story about a place that is important to you and why.’

1 min: Give instructions for the ‘Foundational Storytelling Circle.’
1 min: Time for participants to think about their place.
2 mins: Partnered sharing (1 minute each).
1 min: Gently bring the group back together.
1 min: One minute of silence for reflection.

Lament: Naming the “Slow Violence”

The work of justice requires us to have the courage to name what is broken. The course calls this ‘slow violence’—the attritional harm that communities face daily. We cannot move to action without first honoring the grief of this reality. We will now join in a litany of lament.

Litany of Lament for Creation

Vincent: O God of creation, You have created land for all living creatures of the earth, for trees, for animals, for gardens.
Congregation: Forgive us for our destruction of the land–that which we have chosen, that in which we have been forced to participate and that which we have imposed upon others.
Vincent: God of the universe, the ocean and of love. You have created the ocean for fish, shells, reefs, and corals.
Congregation: Forgive us for our destruction of the ocean and everything in it, destruction in which we may or may not choose to actively participate.

Vincent: God of the forest, in which all living things survive. You have given us wisdom to live in relationship with the forest well.
Congregation: Forgive us for being careless, short-sighted, and selfish–whether by choice, or chosen for us, without our consent.
Vincent: God of all peoples, you have given us responsibility to care for each other.
Congregation: Forgive us for the “sacrifice zones” our global and local structures have created and the “necropolitics” of our systems, which decide which populations are disposable.
All: Lord, help us to acknowledge and respond to the needs of others. Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Confession: Acknowledging Positionality

“Folding Our Future”

(Students pass out a single sheet of used or recyclable paper to everyone.)

Leader: Please take this piece of paper. As we pray, I will ask you to fold it. Each fold represents the ways our world and the dignity of our neighbors are diminished by our actions, and the ways our possibilities for a just future get smaller.
We confess our complicity–whether chosen, or imposed upon us–in systems of racial capitalism that value profit over people. (Pause. All fold the paper in half.)
We confess our participation–whether chosen or imposed upon us– in cultures of capitalism that privilege consumption. (Pause. All fold the paper again.)
We confess the times we have been silent–whether by choice or coercive force–in the face of environmental racism. (Pause. All fold the paper again.)
For those of us who reside within the Global North, we confess our reliance on ‘toxic colonialism’, exporting our waste and harm to the Global South. (Pause. All fold the paper again.)
Hold this tightly. Feel the diminished possibility. Now, let us remember that communal action can unfold new futures.
For the courage to change… (Pause. Unfold the paper once.)
For the wisdom to build healthy, life-giving systems… (Pause. Unfold the paper again.)
For the strength to join in collective actions… (Pause. Unfold the paper again.)
For the hope of a just and life-affirming futures… (Pause. Unfold the paper fully.)
Amen.

Wisdom: Learning from ‘multiple ways of knowing and being,’

Learning from Non-Western Traditions

Reader: “To resist biocide, we must learn from ‘multiple ways of knowing and being,’ particularly Indigenous ethics of ‘kinship’ and ‘reciprocity’. Let us read silently and meditate on the wisdom of Lakota Chief Yellow Lark and his prayer, ‘Great Spirit Prayer’:

All: Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the wind, Whose breath gives life to all the world. Hear me; I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty… Make my hands respect the things you have made… Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock. … I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy—Myself. Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes. So when life fades, as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame. (Lakota (Sioux) Chief Yellow Lark, ~1887).

Poem

Me matan
Me arrancan
Me decoran
Me respira
Me extraen
Me cortan
Me sacan
Me ¡AAAAAH!

¡Nos están sacando!
¿Y a dónde irán los pájaros?
¿Qué pasará con la vida que me habita?
¿A dónde irá?
¿Qué harán cuando el abrazo de la Luna no sea suficiente?

Están arrancando mis raíces, y con ellas,
se llevan a mi comunidad,
a mi gente, fuente de vida.

¿A dónde van? ¿Qué harán con ellas?
Nos reemplazan…

La diversidad no fue suficiente
para el imperio de los sauces y los pinos.

Un monolito monocultural
se chupa el agua,
se apropia de nuestra medicina,
y nos quita la vida.

Mi rama se cae,
mis raíces sangran,
mis hojas lloran,
mis flores han perdido su color.

Tengo miedo.
¿Qué harán conmigo?
¿Qué harán cuando se queden sin aire?
¿Qué harán cuando finalmente se den cuenta de que no pueden vivir sin mí?
They’re killing me
They’re tearing me out
They’re decorating me
They’re breathing me in
They’re extracting me
They’re cutting me
They’re taking me out
They’re AAAAH

They’re taking us out!
And where will the birds go?
What will happen to the life that inhabits me?
Where will it go?
What will they do when the moon’s embrace isn’t enough?

They’re tearing out my roots, and with them,
they’re taking away my community,
my people, my source of life.

Where are they going? What will they do with them?
They’re replacing us…

Diversity wasn’t enough
for the empire of willows and pines.

A monocultural monolith
sucks up the water,
appropriates our medicine,
and takes away life.

My branch is falling,
my roots are bleeding,
my leaves are weeping,
my flowers have lost their color.

I’m afraid.
What will they do with me?
What will you do when you run out of air?
What will you do when you finally realize you can’t live without me?

Sermon

“From Paralysis to Praxis”
Text: Hosea 4:3
“Therefore the land mourns, and all who live in it languish together with the wild animals and the birds of the air, even the fish of the sea are perishing.”

Praxis: Committing to a Just Future

Call to Praxis

Leader: We have grieved the crisis of biocide. We are called to action.
Will you, if you are able, commit to analysing the systemic crises of colonialism, its economy of relationships of racial capitalism and its coercive force of patriarchy that destroy life?
Congregation: We will commit to this analysis.
Leader: Will you, if able, centre the relational work of
‘deep listening’ and ‘empathetic dialogue,’ cultivating ‘brave spaces’ for difficult conversations?
Congregation: We will commit to this relational work.
Leader: Will you, if you are able to honour the wisdom of the indigenous peoples and those of the 2/3’s majority world? turning oneself away from the master’s tools and tables.
Congregation: We will commit to this learning.
Leader: Will you, if able, orient your analytics and ethics towards “concrete, relationally accountable tactics” for an otherwise justice
Congregation: We will commit to this praxis.

Leader: Will you, if able, commit daily to the healing of yourself, your kin, friends and lovers, for our world and the welfare of all beings, vowing to “live on Earth without greed and less violently”?
Congregation: We will commit to a life like this.

Sending Forth

A Practice for the Journey

Blessing

As you leave, take with you this practice for the journey:
First, plant your feet firmly on the earth. Feel your connection to this place and to all our kin, human and non-human.
Second, honor the lament we have shared. Do not leave the grief of ‘slow violence’ behind; let it be the fuel that transforms paralysis into praxis.
Third, step into the work of a just future, rooted not in vague hope, but in concrete, relational accountability.
Go in peace, to resist biocide and build a just future. Amen.

Closing Song

“Eden” by Audrey Assad

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