Fourth Sunday of Advent

Luke 1:29

To see angels is troubling,

Even if one is clean of heart.

It is like being summoned

To the principal’s office.

Whenever I went, I always

Searched my mind for the uncovered base.

As I trod the silent hallways,

Their length stretching towards infinity,

I fretted about the unkind words I had said

Whether my anger had revealed itself.

The overdue library books,

The girl I had bumped into two days ago.

What is it like to be guiltless,

And still searching one’s soul for a fault?

Thrid Sunday of Advent

John 6: 1-8, 19-28

Who are you?

Are you He?

The One?

No I am not.

I am not worthy.

But he is here.

I am the voice,

The dunking hand

The baptizer.

I am least,

And unworthy

To touch him.

He is the light

That came from

Heaven above.

He is the LORD,

The source of

Live and Light.

He came like

A thief in the

Night.

The God of all,

Breaking in.

In the guise of a baby.

We expected his glory

His strength breaking down

Our locked doors.

Instead for our sake

He approached

In humility.

Out of Love he

Appeared unexpectedly

Amidst us.

To teach us

To live and,

To love.

Honeymoon Itinerary

Let’s leave the world behind

For a few days

And get away, along the paths

Of the green-rolling Adirondacks.

When we get back

We should rest and grown, in each others arms

To kiss and be passionate for a few weeks

While we build a home.

Then off to Londontown.

To see all the beauty

That was, and still lies

Inside it’s storm grey architecture.

Crossing the wave-beaten Channel

We arrive in France.

To eat the finest cheese,

To drink wine and to be merry.

Then to Italy,

With its churches and mountains.

Stopping in awe at the grandeur

Of the Forum and St Peter’s.

Finally, we arrive at that holy city:

Jerusalem, where at The Church

Of the Holy Sepulcher

You will pray and I will weep.

Second Sunday of Advent

Mark 1:1-8

Many years ago, the call first went out

Repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand.

Since then it has spread far

Over this sorrow-tossed earth.

To be honest, many accepted it because

Of the sword hanging above their heads;

But, I suspect that it was brought

To more through love and joy.

Nonetheless, its effects have been

Felt far beyond that silty south-running river.

The Kingdom of Heaven, first accepted by twelve

Spread to three-thousand, through fire and wonders.

From there the urban dispossessed, in the

Great Grecian cities took up the call.

Alexandria, Rome, Constantinople, Antioch, Jerusalem

The patriarchs were formed and squabbled.

From there … Well others tell the

Story better than I can,

Describing the mistakes, the paradoxes,

The highs and lows, in gritty accurate detail.

And still the question

Remains unanswered.

What is this Kingdom?

Who inhabits it?

Is it limited to a nation?

To the citizens of an Empire?

Probably not,

Or so I hope.

I believe that, they are a motley crew,

The Saints: farmers, beggars, thieves, and screw-ups.

United not by tongue, race, ideology, or time,

So different except for some basic things:

Saying yes to the rule of the Lord

And choosing to live in his Love.

A Thanksgiving Prayer

On this grey day,

When the empty fields

And the resting woods

Are so bleak, so beautiful.

We gather here

To thank you for your blessings.

Both Visible

And silent.

We thank you

For yourself,

For ourselves,

For each other.

We thank you

For the diverse blessings

Which fill our lives

In all ways.

Give us the grace

To see your gifts

And help us to love

You who are love.

In the name of the Triune God,

Amen.

Sext

Words

For being mere

puffs of air

are powerful things.

Why did you choose these

Lowly vibrations of nitrogen

And scattered marks on a page

To bear your wisdom?

Often they are:

Abused, transitory,

Misinterpreted,

And inadequate.

Yet you transformed

Us through them,

Revealing yourself

And the right way.

They are more than

26 soldiers, or even kings;

But bearers of

Grace, truth.

Gratitude

Thank-You notes are the bane of Christmas.

For weeks afterwards I’d scrawl

On pieces of plain printer paper

With a word, and perhaps a sketch,

About a gift that I have received.

I rarely received a reply.

Now I am free from this winter toil

But I don’t know what to think.

The world feels off when thanks

Doesn’t accompany a gift,

Appreciated or otherwise,

Its center weighs me down.

God teach me to give thanks so

In humility I may grow.