God being God, and loving a good joke,
The birth announcement was unorthodox.
It came inside-out, upside-down, from
unexpected guests who just appeared
and mentioned it as an afterthought.
Viewed with a snort of derision,
divinely ridiculous, it might have read:
Coming soon, to two old geezers.
a heavenly joke (don’t laugh).
Abraham and Sarah will have a son.
Yes, they’re nearing a hundred.
But hospitality is hospitality.
So welcome this ridiculous idea
To your table, your tent,
Your dwelling place.
In the heat of the day,
God showed up and said,
There will be a child.
And the next year, so it was.
The word went out:
Born, to old Abraham and Sarah,
A son named Isaac,
Born of tears and longing
and laughter and a promise.
Thanks be to God.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Monday, September 21, 2015
Monday, May 18, 2015
Clarity
our thinking, the relative
importance of books, rain,
dirty laundry, stairs, lunch
menu and the right color shoe
vintage wallpaper (unironic),
locating doors, old ghosts,
room assignments, rules
and whispers of inadequacy
moments to bless, yesing
one another where we have
been noed,
Sunday, May 10, 2015
For all the mothers
For all the mothers. The wannabes and dontwannabes. The oncewas alwaysam missingmychild missingmymom mothers. Mothers born in tearsweatblood cussing up a storm. The getitright screweditup didmybest cantfixitnow getwhatyougetdontpitchafit mothers. The mothers who lovehate this motherhood thing. The yettobe and neverwills. The lovebearing painbearing remembering forgetting ones. Not just thisdayasatoken and theoneswholooklikeme but allthedays allthenights allthemothers.
Monday, February 03, 2014
A Reflection: Meeting at the Well
Water. Give me water. If you only knew. This is the well Jacob dug, and it might as well be the well where all the ancestors met God’s promises and stared them in the face. Maybe this is the well from which the flood once sprang, maybe an unknown well from the very beginning, buried beneath the fathomless depths of the ocean. Give me water and I’ll give you water, and won’t that be a miracle worth singing, Amen over, and we’ll pass the same cup back and forth all day long.
inspired by John 4:1-42
inspired by John 4:1-42
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Midnight Reunion Communion
And Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: you are not alone.
A friend arrives in the middle of the night.
Gift number one: a friend
Gift number two: delivered safely to your door!
Two gifts. Me, and you.
A third gift: the connection between us.
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: the cupboards are bare.
You have no stomach-filling gift
To offer a road-weary traveler.
You are embarrassed. You are tired.
It is beyond late, too late.
But rather than keeping your sorrow
Hidden, and your secret emptiness,
You go out. Down the steps (shabby slippers and all)
Shrugging the back-door coat over your shoulders,
Through the yard to the neighbors.’
A motion-activated light does its work
Illuminates the developing hole
Above your big toe, as you stare –
Hard – at the cement, at your slippers,
Willing this asking moment to be
– well – less awkward
[Knock, knock]
Again, with urgency
[Knock, Knock]
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: the neighbor comes.
Gift number four reveals itself:
Neighbor! Neighbor awake! Neighbor listening!
And the words tumble, inelegant, from your lips:
Gift number one: a friend
Gift number two: here!
Good friend, dear friend.
Problem: no food.
Query: Help??
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: the answer is yes.
The answer is yes
Merely because the question is asked.
It is not a frivolous question.
You had the guts to ask for bread.
You knocked! You woke the neighborhood!
And here we are racking up gifts.
Have you lost count yet?
Gift number one: a friend.
Gift number two: here
Gift number three: the connection!
Gift number four: a neighbor
Gift number five: who gives!
And there is a miracle at work here,
As the gifts rain down from heaven.
The miracle is not that a friend shows up at your door, safely.
It is not that your neighbor hands over the bread,
Despite sleeping children and cautious eyes.
It is not that you, nighttime companions,
celebrated kitchen-table reunion communion
Nor, that you finally, hours later, slept.
No, the miracle is this:
You asked.
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: you are not alone.
Imagine this: you are not alone.
Really, you are not alone.
This is the gift. This is the good news
the reign of heaven revealed,
Imagine this! You are not alone.
This surfeit of gifts, close and distant relationships,
Midnight wakings and moving feet and asking lips and bread.
A tumbled-out story and moths fluttering in the porch light,
The asker and the asked, the seeker and the sought.
Who is the midnight traveler?
And who is it that wakes?
Whose cupboards are bare?
And just who is knocking on whose door?
He taught them in parables.
It made them think.
Ask, and it will be given.
Seek, and you will find.
Knock, and the door will be opened.
Alleluia!
Amen?
Amen.
Preached at McFarland UCC on July 28, 2013 (Pentecost+10, Year C). Text - Luke 11:1-13
Imagine this: you are not alone.
A friend arrives in the middle of the night.
Gift number one: a friend
Gift number two: delivered safely to your door!
Two gifts. Me, and you.
A third gift: the connection between us.
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: the cupboards are bare.
You have no stomach-filling gift
To offer a road-weary traveler.
You are embarrassed. You are tired.
It is beyond late, too late.
But rather than keeping your sorrow
Hidden, and your secret emptiness,
You go out. Down the steps (shabby slippers and all)
Shrugging the back-door coat over your shoulders,
Through the yard to the neighbors.’
A motion-activated light does its work
Illuminates the developing hole
Above your big toe, as you stare –
Hard – at the cement, at your slippers,
Willing this asking moment to be
– well – less awkward
[Knock, knock]
Again, with urgency
[Knock, Knock]
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: the neighbor comes.
Gift number four reveals itself:
Neighbor! Neighbor awake! Neighbor listening!
And the words tumble, inelegant, from your lips:
Gift number one: a friend
Gift number two: here!
Good friend, dear friend.
Problem: no food.
Query: Help??
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: the answer is yes.
The answer is yes
Merely because the question is asked.
It is not a frivolous question.
You had the guts to ask for bread.
You knocked! You woke the neighborhood!
And here we are racking up gifts.
Have you lost count yet?
Gift number one: a friend.
Gift number two: here
Gift number three: the connection!
Gift number four: a neighbor
Gift number five: who gives!
And there is a miracle at work here,
As the gifts rain down from heaven.
The miracle is not that a friend shows up at your door, safely.
It is not that your neighbor hands over the bread,
Despite sleeping children and cautious eyes.
It is not that you, nighttime companions,
celebrated kitchen-table reunion communion
Nor, that you finally, hours later, slept.
No, the miracle is this:
You asked.
Jesus taught them in parables, saying,
Imagine this: you are not alone.
Imagine this: you are not alone.
Really, you are not alone.
This is the gift. This is the good news
the reign of heaven revealed,
Imagine this! You are not alone.
This surfeit of gifts, close and distant relationships,
Midnight wakings and moving feet and asking lips and bread.
A tumbled-out story and moths fluttering in the porch light,
The asker and the asked, the seeker and the sought.
Who is the midnight traveler?
And who is it that wakes?
Whose cupboards are bare?
And just who is knocking on whose door?
He taught them in parables.
It made them think.
Ask, and it will be given.
Seek, and you will find.
Knock, and the door will be opened.
Alleluia!
Amen?
Amen.
Preached at McFarland UCC on July 28, 2013 (Pentecost+10, Year C). Text - Luke 11:1-13
Friday, March 29, 2013
everyday bandits
we have been letting them kill jesus
different names to be sure different
baptismal names given names adopted
names of poor rich artbringing musicmaking
different skin different attitude different
when things are less than clear we call
for a scapegoat face mixed-up mixed-in
out of place lingering in the margins face
so an everyday bandit in a three piece suit
or casual friday khakis may just get away
but the one who declines to rule who just
wants to celebrate the sheer power of life -
that one, we crucify.
we have been killing jesus for a long time now
jesus with different names faces genders loves
family trees places of being passions and tastes
but this passion for life shown by a child of god
is the one that must be crushed obliterated
ignored marginalized not matter not ours no
an affront. dust and ashes whose insignificance
we must prove by forcefully casting aside a threat
to everyday bandits everywhere
Inspired by the passion story
in the Gospel according to John
Holy Week 2013
different names to be sure different
baptismal names given names adopted
names of poor rich artbringing musicmaking
different skin different attitude different
when things are less than clear we call
for a scapegoat face mixed-up mixed-in
out of place lingering in the margins face
so an everyday bandit in a three piece suit
or casual friday khakis may just get away
but the one who declines to rule who just
wants to celebrate the sheer power of life -
that one, we crucify.
we have been killing jesus for a long time now
jesus with different names faces genders loves
family trees places of being passions and tastes
but this passion for life shown by a child of god
is the one that must be crushed obliterated
ignored marginalized not matter not ours no
an affront. dust and ashes whose insignificance
we must prove by forcefully casting aside a threat
to everyday bandits everywhere
Inspired by the passion story
in the Gospel according to John
Holy Week 2013
what is truth?
things are moving too fast
can we not stop this dissonant parade?
passover dinner to garden to prayer
and in a sleepy fog they came, we fought
over him and thought not much in a torchlit
terror-filled garden
to Annas to Caiaphas to Pilate we cannot
keep straight where they have taken him
but he is moving, always moving, they are
moving him and striking him and asking
ever more questions that have no fair answer
questions that lead to one conclusion
a painful one a shouting crowd
the kingdom of something certainly
not the one we were looking for
what is truth?
Inspired by the passion story
according to the Gospel of John
Holy Week 2013
can we not stop this dissonant parade?
passover dinner to garden to prayer
and in a sleepy fog they came, we fought
over him and thought not much in a torchlit
terror-filled garden
to Annas to Caiaphas to Pilate we cannot
keep straight where they have taken him
but he is moving, always moving, they are
moving him and striking him and asking
ever more questions that have no fair answer
questions that lead to one conclusion
a painful one a shouting crowd
the kingdom of something certainly
not the one we were looking for
what is truth?
Inspired by the passion story
according to the Gospel of John
Holy Week 2013
Friday, March 30, 2012
Seven achingly beautiful things, before the cross
Flagrantly broken jar
Smelly house
Scandal
Dirty water
Clean feet
Confused hearts
Blessing once
And once again
Singing prayer
Evening breeze
A whisper,
please
Fireflies in a line
Floating uphill
Double-edged greeting
Love walks with
Fear not,
I am.
Inspired by revgalblogpals Friday 5
Smelly house
Scandal
Dirty water
Clean feet
Confused hearts
Blessing once
And once again
Singing prayer
Evening breeze
A whisper,
please
Fireflies in a line
Floating uphill
Double-edged greeting
Love walks with
Fear not,
I am.
Inspired by revgalblogpals Friday 5
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
& (A Lenten Prayer)
One of my spiritual practices is writing poetry (most often free verse) that relates to the scripture passages knocking about my head. The following was inspired by miscellanea, and the various lectionary passages on the theme of covenant that are part of my planning for worship this Lent. Perhaps you will recognize something here...
&
Mama who whispers in my soul
who coaxes tangles out of my wild hair
and who spreads ointment on burned places
where the world has made me mixed up and raw
Papa who sets me upright again
and tells me to pedal, pedal, pedal
who shows me where the horizon is
and lets me know that it is ours to claim
Tiny bird who hops on my shoulder
moonbeam on my little girl’s face
lightning love and tender caress
Great One who makes intimate promises,
Let me remember always that
you are with me – and I with you
and that even when
the curtain rips
& the sky shatters
and your word
seems
seems
so
far
gone,
morning will come
&
Mama who whispers in my soul
who coaxes tangles out of my wild hair
and who spreads ointment on burned places
where the world has made me mixed up and raw
Papa who sets me upright again
and tells me to pedal, pedal, pedal
who shows me where the horizon is
and lets me know that it is ours to claim
Tiny bird who hops on my shoulder
moonbeam on my little girl’s face
lightning love and tender caress
Great One who makes intimate promises,
Let me remember always that
you are with me – and I with you
and that even when
the curtain rips
& the sky shatters
and your word
seems
seems
so
far
gone,
morning will come
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