Kyrie of the recycling centre

posted by Kaihsu Tai on December 7th, 2008

At the risk of obsessively praying about waste and recycling, I have this prayer to offer, which I trust to be sensibly Trinitarian.

(John Calvin was wrong. The Purgatory does exist. I have seen it with my own eyes, at the Redbridge recycling station.)recycling symbol

God our Creator, in your mercy:
Help us to learn how to live in Paradise, where nothing is wasted,
where we walk or cycle with you as you intended.
Bless the workers who sort our recycling,
who, as befit people created in your image, re-create order out of chaos.

Kyrie eleison.

Christ our Saviour, in your mercy:
Remove us from the flashy sports cars and the 4×4s (SUVs)
which only speed us to the incinerating Armageddon.
Remind us of your crown, when we see the thornbushes growing over the landfill.
Remind us of your Cross, whenever we see smokestacks or wind turbines on the hill.
Remind us of your Passion and your Resurrection.

Christe eleison.

Holy Spirit our Advocate and Comforter, in your mercy:
Guard us on our bus route for the recycling centre.
Purge us of our sins of pride and greed.
Blow your wind on us and drive us in your dynamic,
as on the wind turbines, and as on Pentecost.
Bless with your wordless prayer
everything that has a recycling symbol.

Kyrie eleison.


(By the way, Chris Goodall’s second book is out: Ten Technologies to Save the Planet.)

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  1. On December 7, 2008 at 14:06 Richard said:

    Haha, most apposite, and very cleverly put together. I only went to the Redbridge recycling centre… it was an amazing piece of sociology for a Saturday afternoon.

  2. On December 7, 2008 at 18:36 Mike said:

    Another prayer full of unexpected gems. “Bless with your wordless prayer
    everything that has a recycling symbol.”

  3. On December 8, 2008 at 17:06 Kaihsu Tai said:

    The initial idea for this prayer came from a visit to Redbridge recycling station in May. On the bus back, a boy behind me was spotting sportscars along the way, but then paused when we went past the Greyfriars (the local capuchin friary) and said, with some prophetic gravitas, “it would be nice to live in there.”