Sometimes, my religious background gets the better of me. I went to a seminary many decades ago, and I was filled with all kinds of liturgical practices. One of those practices that has stayed with me and keeps appearing in my brain is the genre of the litany. Now the way I learned litanies, the priest would call out the names of saints or different names for the Virgin Mary or Jesus, and the congregation would respond with “Pray for us.”
So what has happened to me now is that I still do litanies, but they’re a little different. Here’s one for Middle Spring, asking the creatures of the season to be with us on our journey:
You golden forsythia and star magnolias:
Pray for us.
You toads and frogs, calling in the night:
Pray for us.
All of you pear trees and crab apples straining to flower:
Pray for us.
All of you redbuds and hawthorns and dogwoods and maples and plums:
Pray for us. Pray for us.
Hepatica, buttercup, daffodils, hyacinths,
Tulips, wisteria, trout lilies, speedwell:
Pray for us. Pray for us.
Sweet William, lilac, meadow rue, ginger:
Pray for us. Pray for us...
Honeysuckle, boxwood, viburnum and quince:
Pray for us. Pray for us. Graciously hear us.
Jack-in-the-Pulpit, fleabane and thyme
Poppies and pimpernel, sedum and sorrel:
Pray for us. Pray for us. Graciously hear us.
And all of you flowers of summer sprouting and rising beside us:
Lilies and roses and milkweeds and clovers,
Iris and hostas and catnips and nettles:
Pray for us. Pray for us. Graciously hear us.
Pray for us. Pray for us. Graciously hear us
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will’s Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with notes for the second week of middle spring. In the meantime, try a litany of your own. It’s maybe like naming the moons. Anyone can do it.
