Wordtreasure

The White Christ

Red-bearded, blood-soaked Thor faced off
against the white Christ
at the end of the first millennium.

Icelanders had to choose.
For the pagans, white stood for cowardice,
but the heavy hand of King Olaf

forced a deal the pagan holdouts
could not refuse.
The second millennium is in the past already.

The state supports the old white Christ,
but attendance is low in the state church.
Icelanders go through the cafeteria line

and select their religion.
Bureaucrats record their preferences.
It’s all very low energy.

There won’t be a saga-worthy single combat
between the white Christ
and some adversary in the future.

Love is a Twofer

Love is a twofer.
When you say you are in love
or you assert the aphorism, God is love,
you infer duality.

God is the subject
and [something] is the object.
The something is the world
and all its inhabitants.

There is no love without the lover and the loved,
without the me and the you,
without one or the other.

Have you ever experienced love?
You will then understand the Sufi maxim,
You are the mirror in which
God sees himself.

I have been writing new music for our St. John’s choir.

The Yoke

Matthew 11:28-30

The yoke you wear is the load you bear.
Who will make the yoke you wear?
The yoke you wear is yours alone.
Will you build a yoke on your own?
Will fear become your lasting load
to burden you on the darkened road?
Will you be angry on the morrow
or shoulder some remembered sorrow?

A worker in wood has a better way
to lighten your load in every way.
You can trust the carpenter’s son.
He knows why and how it’s done.
Jesus knows the grain of oak.
He will make a gentle yoke.
His heart is humble—learn from him.
Take his yoke and walk with him.

Repeat the piano for the first four lines of the second stanza and then have the choir sing the final four lines one more time.

Tune: Sweet Hour of Prayer

∞

Agency

What does it mean to be the salt of the earth?
Salt is a preservative.
It is used for seasoning and with healing.
Salt is a helping agent.

What does it mean to be the leaven?
Leaven makes the bread rise.
It softens the bread and makes it more digestible.
Leaven is a helping agent.

What does it mean to be the light for the world?
Without the light,
we stumble around in the dark.
Light is a helping agent.

If you are the salt of the earth,
the light for the world, and the leaven,
you are a gift to the earth.
It has nothing to do with heaven.
You are a helping agent
by making the world—this world—a better place.

Holy Communion

The dove spreads wings of the present and past.
Warm thermals lift these wings of time.
One wing is us in this sacred place.
The other bears souls of every age.

Our world was once a lightless void.
From that the Lord created the world.
From things not seen, he made the earth.
From a spark, the Lord gives us birth.

On edge from dust to dust again,
by our faith we know there is a plan.
We look ahead with absolute trust.
By faith we sing the Great Amen.

We fold eternity into a day.
Time slows to a stop with body and blood.
We eat this bread and drink this wine.
Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

NOTE: The St. John’s choir sang this poem in early October 2023.

Original tune: “Bunessan” (Scottish Gaelic: Bun Easain)
Musical score: See anthem #8 of the hymnal

Link: Cat Stevens, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Rifby1tVE8

Blessings

Blessed are those who hunger for justice.
Blessings to the powerless
and their allies driven to cure injustice.

Blessings also to those who refuse
to hate their abusers.
This is the hardest task of all.

Never forget—each person’s face,
even that of your adversary,
bears the imprint of the Lord.

Resist injustice with every bone in your body,
with all your might,
with your every breath,

with your very soul,
as if it was a matter of life and death,
which it is.

Mass In Times of a Pandemic

Psalm 100

Kyrie eleison

Have mercy upon the people of faith, O Lord,
who put their trust in you, as an enemy, unseen
and silent, steals across our land and the world
abroad to tap on shoulders—as if at random
like a monstrous game of tag—of unsuspecting men
and women who strive to make it through the day.
We sing, Kyrie eléison, Christe eléison,
Kyrie eléison, with great gladness; and we pray:
Give us courage, O Lord, come what may.

Gloria

We shoulder sorrows at the end of a darkened day,
seeking shelter against the forces of the night,
and in the lengthening shadows we find our way
to the empty tomb of Christ with the perpetual light
of one hopeful candle burning bright
to celebrate the risen Lord. We look to the west:
the glow of the golden sun gives way to the light
of vespers. Secure in our safe lodging, we are blessed
to praise the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Credo

How did the Coronavirus disaster come? Two ways:
gradually, then suddenly. Science knew it was real
and lethal, but leadership dithered for many days
until a great nation was brought to heel.
Worse than war, we tumbled down into the hell
of separateness. Each of us must suffer alone,
apart from the warmth of fellowship in which we feel
a common bond. But we shall rise again!
Even in isolation, we are one unbroken chain.

Sanctus

The virus requires we find new ways to cope.
Gatherings are banned; individuals widen their space.
In isolation, we glimpse in memory, dimly, but we hope
to see each other soon face to face,
cheek by jowl, in a happier time and place.
Privately, we pray, Holy, holy, holy,
Lord God of hosts. By the loving grace
of God, we plan to come together fully
as one body and sing the Hymn of Victory.

Agnes Dei

Behold the Lamb of God who takes away
the sins of the world. We the faithful may be sheep
in need of a good shepherd or innocents in the ways
of the world, but the body of Christ is wide and deep
and the people of this church have commitments to keep
whether blown to the four winds or gathered in place.
We are set on sowing in the Spirit—in the hope of reaping
eternal life. My friends, go in grace
until we meet again face to face.

Last Sunday after Pentecost
November 26, 2023

NOTE: This concludes Year A.

Wars in My Lifetime

Judges 4:1-7

World War II

a boy-soldier lies
with his face
on the continent of Europe
and his feet
in the Atlantic

Korea

when we died,
they said casualties were low;
they gave us medals
and thanked us
for our service

Vietnam

I am an American fighting man
no visible foe
no battle lines
no inner hate
no reason why

Desert Storm

no longer
forward-leaning warfighters,
the wounded
are deleted
from the present tense

Iraq

Iraq War,
my, how you have grown…
look at you:
such a big boy
and so strong!

Twenty-Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A
November 19, 2023

Entering Adulthood

Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25

The nights were deathly quiet. We never saw
the underclass at dark. Invisible deeds,
professionally drawn by cordial men, kept
our slumber safe, our world a safe cocoon.
Depression-haunted parents pampered us
into the sixties. The gaunt face of poverty
that fueled their fears was one we never knew.
The class of 1960 naturally believed
in privileged wealth, believed in dread pursuits
of dry-as-dust at top professional schools.
Our dreams were so intense before the dawn,
before the day enhanced our consciousness.
From out of the comfortable night we faced the sun.
At long last we were forced to cope with light.

NOTE: I wrote this poem in 1990 for my classmates. It was our 30th reunion.

Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
November 12, 2023

The Big Nothing

Joshua 3:7-17

What happens to the indigenous peoples
living in someone else’s promised land?
We never know because they are slaughtered

or erased forever as a culture.
Nothing to see here—
their story is a big nothing.

Historians connect the dots of known events
across white silences of ruined chronicles
forever mute.

Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost
November 5, 2023

Pilgrim

Matthew 22:34-46

Come home, come home to the simple life:
Love God with all your heart,
with all your soul and with all your strength.
This is the first and greatest rule.

Come home, come home to the holy life:
Love your neighbor as yourself.
These two rules are all you need.
Everything else is explanation.

Come, pilgrim, come home to God.
Clear your mind of the cares of the world.
It does not matter how far you roam.
The road from home is the road to home.

Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost
October 29, 2023

Macedonia and Achaia

1 Thessalonians 1:1-10

Looking out over the caramel landscape,
the least of the apostles announced,
Upon this blade of grass, I build my church.

Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Year A
October 22, 2023

Arguing Over the Kids

Exodus 32:1-14

My children? These are your children!
It was by your power
you freed them from bondage.

What will the Egyptians say
if you set your children free
only to destroy them in the wilderness?

And what about your hopes
for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
and their descendants?
Have you forgotten about that?

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
October 15, 2023