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Category Archives: preparing for Sunday with poetry
Ephphatha
The risks of cracking ajar the teeth, loosing the tongue of fire fanned by vague spirits, unstopping the ears, allowing the world to pound its wares upon its drums outweighed in an instant by the shriek of an eagle drafting … Continue reading
Walking on water
Because the clutch between creation and Creator is solid. Because the Word that spoke light into being fills the space between waves and atoms so that none is wasted, so that there is not room between one thought of God and another to … Continue reading
Leftovers
One made bread pudding, another, croutons for soup.One mashed them in milk next day for the baby’s breakfast. The important thing was, they got to keep the crumbs, got to bring bread home, swapping hunger for sufficiency, sharing recipes for remainders;that … Continue reading
To speak in parables
To speak in parables: to open the teeth and loose the tongue, to taste truth beyond the metaphor, spit out outrageous similes for God, who is similar to nothing and almost everything; to explain them to his friends: to draw … Continue reading
The having of forgiveness
It seem to me that the way to remain unforgiven is to look forgiveness in the face and to mistake it for something altogether other, like a child in a hall of mirrors who sees distortion as reality and recoils … Continue reading
Sabbath
Sabbath jubilee: release for the withering will, slow unfurling of a sharply-curved grasp to rejoice in defiant mercy, revolutionary rest; the gift and obligation to lie down like a branch strewn before the quiet feet of God After a hiatus, … Continue reading
Destined
One was destined to be lost so that the ninety-nine could wonder why a good shepherd would leave them alone to go looking for the lamb of perdition, imagining him already fallen beyond rescue into the valley filled with shadows … Continue reading
How to command love
Can love be commanded?Does the demanding not crucify love?Gentleness can be commanded, surely – the salve, the oil – resistance, too, the other cheek slowly turned to point away from violence. Feed my sheep can be commanded, break the bread, … Continue reading
Give me something to eat
Of course they had fish – remember who they were. Like little boys with their little loaves and a few small fish, watching his hands as they broke the flesh pierced by their hooks into pieces; they fed him as … Continue reading
What we learn from one another
A poem towards Maundy Thursday Some days later, stretching out his hand to pluck an olive to his puckered mouth he remembered her hands and her hair, how the scent of nard filled his mind, overwhelming the taste of the food with the sweet and … Continue reading
Posted in poetry, prayer, preparing for Sunday with poetry
Tagged anointing, footwashing, Holy Week, Jesus, John 12, John 13, Mary of Bethany, Maundy Thursday
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