It will start like this, I think, (poem)

In my theology class we have been reading about the end of the world as we know it.  The scientific name for this is "eschatology," or the study of last things.  There have been many views about what happens after we die, what will happen to the universe when all the stars run out of energy.  The resurrection of Jesus Christ gives Christians hope that death is not the end, that God will creatively breathe new life into our decaying bodies so that we may endlessly dwell with God in a new creation.  This reminded me of a poem I read in high school by Charles Wright.  I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on the poem and this subject.


"October"

The leaves fall from my fingers.
Cornflowers scatter across the field like stars,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . like smoke stars,
By the rain tracks, the lives in a drift

Under the snow clouds
. . . . . . . . . . . and the nine steps to heaven,
The light falling in great sheets through the trees,
Sheets almost tangible.

The transfiguration will start like this, I think,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . breathless,
Quick blade through the trees,
Something with red colors falling away from my hands,

The air beginning to go cold . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And when it does
I'll rise from this tired body, a blood-knot of light,
Ready to take the darkness in.

--Or for the wind to come
And carry me, bone by bone, through the sky,
Its wafer a burn on my tongue,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . its wine deep forgetfulness.

The Trees by Clear Creek (poem)

Today was the annual Spirituality Gathering at ESR.  Because I was in Carrie Newcomer's songwriting class and am in Carole Spencer's spiritual formation class, Carole asked me and three other students to create something based on the presentation of Phil Gulley, the guest speaker.  I wrote a poem.


Blessed are the barren trees by Clear Creek
rocking in the wind, eyes still closed
in the perfect light.
Soon,
in their time,
sprouts will join their dance.

But the leaves that scratch the
parking lot
can no longer drink
the Life.



Day, I have not clung to my
leaves.
I have fallen into sleep
in the snow.
When the fog surrounded me, I held out
all of my arms.
Now I lie here, waiting
to open my every green eye.

Beloved, hope in the Day
both now and forevermore.



Day, you are my Life
I sing for you like a bird
resting on a naked
branch.
I thirst for you
like a cloud beneath the moon.
In your house I have sat beside you
and in yourself you have draped, anointed me.
Better than my sprouts is your love
and even my roots will shake
for you.

In you I am satisfied as after a day rain
and when I sleep, I feast on your whispers.

All will stumble who set traps
but we will leap, standing still
because when you breathe out, we live
and when you hold your breath,
we listen.

Two Weeks of Singing

These past two weeks have been so full and good, for two main reasons:  Carrie Newcomer's songwriting class and Danny and Charlene's wedding.  Yesterday I finished my first intensive class at ESR, "Writing Mindfully," taught by Carrie Newcomer.  I was glad to meet new folks and hear songs written by each of the writers in the class, and Carrie is an excellent teacher.  Last night we shared our songs with the ESR/Bethany Theological Seminary community, and that was fulfilling.

I wrote two songs, one of which I recorded.  It's called "The Song of the Vine" (click to hear the song, featuring Ela Robertson on the cello), and it's based on the story of Jonah.  If you don't know the story, I suggest you read it.  To introduce the song, though, I'll say that Jonah is mad at God for calling Jonah to preach against the wickedness of the city of Nineveh.  After quite an adventure at sea, Jonah finally preaches against the wickedness of Nineveh and gets even angrier with God when Nineveh mourns for its evil and God shows mercy on the city.  So Jonah climbs a hill to look out over the city, to see what will come of it, and God plants a vine for Jonah.  Hope you enjoy the song!

Last weekend, I celebrated the wedding of Danny and Charlene Foster.  I am grateful and honored to have been given the opportunity to be with and sing for them.  I brought out my Washburn guitar, which I haven't played in a while, and plucked the wedding prelude, an instrumental medley of hymns such as "This is My Father's World," "For the Beauty of the Earth," "Blest Be the Tie That Binds," and "What a Friend We Have in Jesus."  During Charlene's aisle march, I sang the first half of Depeche Mode's "Somebody."  Later, Brother Eddie led the congregation in "Thank You Lord," and at the end, Danny, Charlene, Eddie, Alex, Kat, Ira, and I played and sang "Thanks."

Pastor Steve's sermon on Isaiah 43:15-21 was perfect for Danny and Charlene, "people whom [God] formed for myself / so that they might declare my praise" (v. 21).

The dinner cooked by Sister Peggy was excellent--spicy chicken wings for appetizers, punch, meatballs, salad, and more.  Along with my parents, I sat with a couple who are Friends preachers and who have visited Richmond, and another couple and their child.  (Coincidentally, Jon was at another wedding.)  I had a fascinating conversation with Tony about God's work in the world as revealed in Scripture and the nature of time.  Our conversation, coupled with Pastor Steve's sermon the next morning about how God does not only exist in the past but also in the present, has fueled my interest in time and time travel.

One of the Friends ministers asked me how I knew Danny, and I told her a little bit about life at the Redemption House, how Danny and Charlene would sometimes set their electric keyboard, bass, and bass amp onto the cyan tiles of the living room to rehearse and jam.  It made me think of all my roommates from the Redemption House and other church friends and how great it would be to see them again.

At the end of the evening, a group spontaneously gathered around the upright piano and sang "O Happy Day" while Danny drummed away.  It was a happy day indeed--Amen and Absotutely!

In the Sixth Month (poem)

I’m afraid that I, calm like a candle,
"Do not be afraid, Mary, am a fuse, a muffled firework,
that one day I’ll go off, his kingdom will never end
and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month
and peel the skin, the arms of all who huddled close—

I’m afraid that I, with the gospel on my lips,
We know that the whole creation has been groaning
as in the pains of childbirth, am buckled with a rusty sword
Not only so, that one day I’ll arrive on pregnant shores
but we ourselves groan inwardly
and when I leave there will be little more—
as we wait eagerly for our adoption,
the redemption of our bodies.

For in this hope we were saved." Then the angel left her.
May it be so.

God Reigns

Two snakes, a sailor, a monk who was said to pray the Lord's Prayer in his crib, and the image of a woman.  These are the five friends of Godric, "one for each of Jesu's wounds, and Godric bears their mark still on what's left of him as in their time they all bore his on them.  What's friendship, when all's done, but the giving and taking of wounds?"

Godric, who lives alone and walks the earth barefoot like Jesus to calvary.  They call him a saint, who wonders what life could have been had he walked different roads, who sees the peoples' deaths before they die, and prays that God might ease their suffering.  This is his ministry:  prayer, and this is his prayer:  memory.  Memory is his curse and the telling of his memory his ministry.

Godric, the little Christ who prays,

Gentle Jesu, Mary's son, be thine the wounds that heal our wounding.  Press thy bloody scars to ours that thy dear blood may flow in us and cleanse our sin.

Be thou in us and we in thee that Godric, Gillian, Ailred, Mouse and thou may be a woundless one at last.  And even Reginald if thy great mercy reach so far.

In God's name Godric prays.

Amen.