CLOUDS 

OF ANGELS 

Poem for Today - Thursday October 2, 2014

OUR LOST ANGELS

Ages ago, clouds brought them near

and rain brought them to our lips;

they swam in every vase, every cupped palm.

We took them into ourselves

and were refreshed.

For those luckier generations, angels

were the sweet, quickening substance

in all light, all water, every morsel of food.

Until the day the sun changed some, as it had,

took them skyward, but thereafter

the clouds failed to restore them.

In time, streams gave up

every spirit, and the sea, unreplenished,

finally became the void we had feared

it would become, the void we had imagined.

And, as now, clouds brought only rain,

and the emptied rain

brought only the chill in which

we must now be wrapped.

© Scott Cairns, pages 152-153

in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

GOING TO CONFESSION

Poem for Today - Wednesday - October 1, 2014

LEONARD REFUSES TO ATONE

The moon comes up, a white cow

grazing on limbo.

Today in the confessional I yelled,

Father, I am the deaf one, absolve me

in a voice I can hear.

But as usual, he mumbled in the curtain

and the saints cast their eyes

past me, into the cold space of the loft

when I knelt at their feet.

What sins have I done

that you should forsake me?

Again, I asked loudly.

The saints are far deafer than I.

Their ears, curls of plaster,

have grown closed from listening

to the organ's unceasing low sobs.

I sit where the moon rides up,

swollen and tender,

the beast of my burdens. Her back is broad

enough to carry my penance and yours.

When she moans, the whole sky

falls open.

My weight has done this,

My life an act of contrition

tor the sins of a whole town.

But now, when I let the weight fall,

she arches, a slender thing

shot from a quiver.

Oh white deer hunted into a cloud,

I was your child, now I leap down,

relaxed into purpose,

my body cleaves through the air like a star.

Make your wishes, small children.

You others, make vows,

quickly, before I snuff myself out

and become the dark thing

that walks among you,

pure, deaf, and full

of my own ingenious sins.

© Louise Erdrich, pages 229-230
in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

Picture on top: Confessionals
in Santiago de Compostella
in Spain - which we just  visited
last Tuesday, September 30, 2014.

WHAT LOVE CAN DO

Poem for Today - Tuesday  September 30,  2014

TRUE LOVE

binds all wounds,

wounds all heels,

whatever. You can tell.

William Buckley,

Gore Vidal, Sampson

and Delilah. Paul

and the Corinthians.

You can tell.

It makes us fight

and bleed, takes us to the heights,

the deeps, where we don't

want to go. Adam and Eve. Noah

and Mrs., David,

Bathsheba, Ruth,

Naomi. You can tell.

The way light surges

Out of nothing. The Magdalene,

The gardener, God help us,

We are God’s chosen now.

© Kathleen Norris

in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of

Contemporary Christian

Poetry, Oxford  University

Press, New York, 

Oxford, 1997,

Pages 223-224

Painting on Top:

St. Maximilian Kolbe,

who gave his life

for another. 

PAIN: 

IT HURTS! 

Poem for Today - Monday - September 29, 2014

THE WAY OF PAIN

For parents, the only way

is hard. We who give life

give pain. There is no help.

Yet we who give pain

give love; by pain we learn

the extremity of love.

I read of Abraham's sacrifice

the Voice required of him,

so that he lead to the altar

and the knife his only son.

The beloved life was spared

that time, but not the pain.

It was the pain that was required.

I read of Christ crucified,

the only begotten Son

sacrificed to flesh and time

and all our woe. He died

and rose, but who does not tremble

for his pain, his loneliness,

and the darkness of the sixth hour?

Unless we grieve like Mary

at his grave, giving him up

as lost, no Easter morning comes.

And then I slept, and dreamed

the life of my only son

was required of me, and I

must bring him to the edge

of pain, not knowing why.

I woke, and yet that pain

was true. It brought his life

to the full in me. I bore him

suffering, with love like the sun,

too bright, unsparing, whole.

© Wendell  Berry 

in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology

of Contemporary

Christian Poetry,

edited by David Impastato.

Oxford University Press,

pages 43-44

SECOND  THOUGHTS 

 INTRODUCTION

The title and theme of my homily today is “Second Thoughts”.

Part of being a human being is to have second thoughts.

Second thoughts.

“You know, I was thinking. Would it be okay if I a, a, a  ... changed my a, a, a  ... mind?”

Seconds thoughts.

TODAY’S GOSPEL

That thought hit me when I read today’s readings, especially today’s gospel [Matthew 21: 28-32].

A man has two sons. He asks the oldest son to work in the vineyard that day. And the oldest says, “I’m on my way” and he disappears. So the father asks the second son and he says, “No!”

But the younger son has regrets. He has second thoughts. So he changes his mind and goes and does the work.

And Jesus asks, “Which one does the father’s will? Which one does what the father wanted?”

And obviously, the answer has to be the younger son.

And obviously Jesus is pointing out that the prostitutes and the tax collectors, the sinners were the ones who had second thoughts and started to convert when John the Baptist preached repentance. The elders and the chief priests didn’t.

Second thoughts.

FRANK AND KATIE

Years ago I was preaching a parish mission down in Ohio. There wasn’t any room in the rectory so myself and the priest I was working with stayed in parishioner’s homes. Tom was with one family and I stayed with another family. Neat.

The couple I stayed with had three kids. Two boys were away at college -- Ohio University and the daughter was in her first year of college -- but living at home -- and going to a community college -- much to the delight of her parents. Three kids in college at once. Big time bucks!

Well, I came into the house -- in the back door on Thursday afternoon and Katie, the wife and mother was in the kitchen and she says to me, “Did you do the dishes?”

I said, “No!” but I lied. Katie said, “Oh!”

I went upstairs to change and I met Frank and he says to me, “Did you do the dishes?”

I said, “No!” I lied again. I didn’t have any second thoughts. I wanted Liz to get the credit.

Well, when I got downstairs a few minutes later for supper, they both said to me, “You lied!” Obviously they compared notes. Then they said, “Liz never does the dishes.”

Once more I lied.

There were only some cups and bowls and some plates from breakfast and I had washed them after I had a sandwich for lunch. I didn’t want to wear out my welcome.

Then at supper Frank and Katie said, “I guess we spoiled our kids.” Then Frank went on. I ask Mike to cut the grass and he laughs and says, “No!” Then I ask John and he says, “Yes!” but he doesn’t do it. Then surprise I come home and one of them just did it.  Then at other times neither of them cut the grass. Knowing that sometimes I then do it. But sometimes Mike does it fast and then I have to redo it. Smart kids.”

Well, when I read today’s gospel, I felt right at home. Very real stuff.

But wouldn’t it have been great if Liz had second thoughts and did the dishes?

LIFE IS SECOND THOUGHTS AND THEN ACTING ON THEM

Life is having second thoughts and then doing something about our thoughts.

We say the wrong thing. We do the wrong thing. We make a mistake. We become lazy. We get into patterns that the other knows like the plates in the kitchen. Isn’t it great when we surprise each other? Isn’t it great when we do the dishes or empty the dishwasher or cut the grass or clean the garage or put the seat down in the bathroom and surprise the other or others. Surprise! I was thinking .....

TODAY’S SECOND READING

In today’s second reading we have this great early Christian hymn that St. Paul presents to us -- the kind of thinking we should have --the kind of attitude we ought to have. It’s having the attitude of Christ. [Cf. Philippians 2:1-11]

God created the world and all was good.

Then we got our hands on it and messed it up.

Then God got angry.

Then God had second thoughts.

He called Abraham, Moses, the prophets.

Finally God had the great thought -- to send his Son to us -- in the fullness of time. The Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, the Word become flesh, and lived amongst us. Then the Son had second and third and fourth thoughts -- becoming our servant, then dying on the cross for us. And because he did all this, the Father lifted him up.

Resurrection!

New Life.

Jesus is Lord -- the Lord of it all.

THE SECRET OF IT ALL

There it is -- the secret of it all. Being human like being God, we can have second thoughts. We can make changes -- significant changes.

We can have second thoughts and then surprise every one around us with new and better behavior.

Isn’t that the secret of a happy marriage? People start to do some thinking about their behavior. People start to have second thoughts. “Hey I can be better. I can give more of myself. I can start to serve rather than serving. I can start giving more than wanting to always get.”

Then the person does it. Surprise. Life. Resurrection. Exaltation.

That’s how people make it to their 25th, 30th, 40th wedding anniversary. Amen.

CONCLUSION

Let me give a small example to conclude this homily.

This is an example I saw in some book or a magazine somewhere. I used it a few times this year in our parish missions and I think someone said they also saw it somewhere. It’s a good example on second thoughts.

It goes something like this:

“Recently I witnessed a moment of deep soulfulness between two strangers. I was at a bus stop, sitting next to a woman reading a newspaper, but I was totally engrossed in the performance of a 14-year old boy on a skateboard. He had his baseball cap turned around with the bill in the back, and was skating beautifully and very fast. He buzzed by us once, then twice. When he came by a third time, he accidentally knocked the woman’s newspaper out of her hands. She said, ‘Oh, why don’t you grow up!’

“I watched him glide to the corner of the block, where he stood talking with his buddy. The two of them kept looking back over their shoulders at the woman. She hesitated for a moment, then rolled up her paper, tucked it under her arm and walked into the street, motioning to him. ‘Won’t you come here?’ she called. ‘I want to talk to you.’

“Very reluctantly, he skated over to her, turned his cap around with the bill in front, and said, ‘Yeah?’

“She said, ‘What I meant to say was that I was afraid that I might get hurt. I apologize for what I did say.’

“His face lit up, and he said, ‘How cool!’

“In that moment, I witnessed what is called in Spanish a milagro pequeno -- a small miracle. This small miracle was a holy, healing moment between generations, between two human beings who had just become important strangers to each other. The woman chose to shift the shape of her experience by moving out of reactivity to creativity. This kind of shape shifting is possible when we allow ourselves to speak directly from our soul.’” [1]

NOTES:

[1] p. 39 in Homiletics. From Angeles Arrien in “Walking the Mystical Path With Practical Feet,” in Nourishing the Souls, ed. Anne Simpkinson, Charles Simpkinson & Rose Solari,  (Harper San Francisco, 1995) p. 104

MARY ON 

A USUAL DAY

Poem  for Today - Sunday - September 28, 2014

FROM A WOMAN’S LIFE

What Mary knew was just

enough for the usual day;

pull water, flint fire, bake

bread, smile, pray

the dark orations, sleep, wake

wait. When pain honed a nerve,

when birth or dying clotted

an hour, she leaned to the curve

of living, resilient to fear

laughter suffering.

Partings are a little death.
Each one’s journey is a thing.

Wholly without precedent.
She looked at the sky

For compass. None. She, too,

Created a road to travel by.

© Maura Eichner
in Upholding Mystery
An Anthology
of Contemporary 
Christian Poetry,
edited by
David Impastato,
Oxford University
Press, Oxford,
New York, 1997,

Pages 362-363

PRESENT  ____  ABSENT ____

PLEASE  CHECK  ONE

Poem for Today - Saturday - September 27, 2014

FLICKERING MIND

Lord, not you,

it is I who am absent.
At first

belief was a joy I kept in secret,

stealing alone

into sacred places;

a quick glance, and away – and back,

circling.

I have long since uttered your name

but now

I elude your presence.

I stop to think about you, and my mind

at once

like a minnow darts away,

darts

into the shadows, into gleams that fret

unceasing over

the river's purling and passing.

Not for one second

will my self hold still, but wanders

anywhere,

everywhere it can turn. Not you,

it is I am absent.

You are the stream, the fish, the light,

the pulsing shadow,

you the unchanging presence, in whom all

moves and changes.

How can I focus my flickering,  perceive

at the fountain's heart

the sapphire I know is there?

© Denise Levertov, pages 122-123

in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

JUST  LOOKING, 

JUST WATCHING 

Poem for Today - Friday - September 26, 2014

BACK PORCH FUNDAMENTALIST

In the afternoon

he chose the corner in the sun.

Then he set his porch rocker

facing the mimosa

where gold wires

of light tapped

the leaves, and he, himself,

by a simple act of seeing

observed a miracle.

If anything is, he said,

them pods

on this tree is the keys

of the kingdom.

© Maura Eichner  page 144

in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

THE WIND BLOWS 

WHERE IT WILLS - 

EVEN INTO AN EGGPLANT 

Poem for Today - Thursday - September 25, 2014

PENTECOST

What is this Holy Spirit?

And what is it doing in the eggplant?

© David Craig

page 116 in Upholding Mystery,

An Anthology of Contemporary

Christian Poetry, Edited by

David Impastato,

Oxford University Press,

New York, Oxford, 1997

ANGER:

THE FIRE COMING FROM AN ANGRY HEART

Poem for Today - Wednesday - September 24, 2014

TO THE READER

Black tulips in my heart,

flames on my lips:

from which forest did you come to me,

all you crosses of anger?

I have recognized my griefs

and embraced wandering and hunger.

Anger lives in my hands,

anger lives in my mouth

and in the blood of my arteries swims anger.

O reader,

don't expect whispers from me,

or words of ecstasy:

this is my suffering!

A foolish blow in the sand

And another in the clouds.

And is all I am –

Anger, the tinder

Of fire.

(1964)

Mahmud Darwish (1942-2008 )

pages 194-195 in

When the Words Burn,

An Anthology of Modern

Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour

TRYING TO PUT IT 

INTO WORDS.......

Poem for Today - Tuesday - September 23, 2014

THE DICTIONARY FOR LOVERS

I've always thought of writing a dictionary for lovers—

my friends, the lovers.

I've always thought of making them happy,

those marvellous people ... thought of

lighting a small lantern

for the lost thousands,

and making my heart

a wheat field for all the hungry.

I 've always considered making my eyelids

a sheet to throw over the weary

and finding out

where the birds of sadness come from

and when the trees of longing bloom.

Considered discovering what fire has burned us

for millions

of years.

I have, without a doubt, been a big fool

calling myself

the official spokesman of lovers.

Can it happen?

Is it possible to hold the sea in a bottle—

imprison jasmine?

Can the flowers of love be compressed

in one book?

I ask mercy from the God of all!

(1981)

© Nizar Qabbani (1923 -1998)

Pages 100-101 in

When the Words Burn,

An Anthology of Modern

Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour

SALEM:

TRANSLATION "PEACE"

Poem for Today - Monday -  September 22, 2014

JERUSALEM

I cried till there were no more tears,

prayed till the candles melted, knelt till kneeling bored me.

I asked about Muhammad in you, and about Jesus.

Jerusalem, City which smells of prophets,

shortest of roads between the earth and the sky

Jerusalem, lighthouse for ships,

beautiful girlchild with burnt fingers—

Your eyes are sad, City of the virgin,

luscious garden where the prophet passed.

The stones of the streets,

the minarets of the mosques, are sad.

Jerusalem, beauty wraps in black:

Who rings the bells in the Church of the Resurrection

Sunday Mornings? Who carries the toys to the children

Christmas night?

Jerusalem, city of grief,

large tear that roams under the eyelids:

Who repulses

your enemies, O pearl of religions?

Who washes the blood from the stones of the walls?

Who salvages the Bible

Who salvages Christ from his assassins?

Who salvages man?

Jerusalem, my city

Jerusalem, my love

Tomorrow, tomorrow the orange trees will bloom

and the green wheat rejoice,

and eyes and olive trees will laugh.

Migrating doves shall return

to the blessed rooftops

and children will come back to play.

Fathers and sons will meet

on your tall hills, my country,

country of peace and olive trees.

(1968)

© Nizar Qabbani (1923 -1998)

page 100 in When

the Words Burn,

An Anthology of

Modern Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour

GOD’S WAYS

ARE NOT MY WAYS

INTRODUCTION

The title of my thoughts for today is: God’s Ways Are Not My Ways.

The heart of prayer is for the human being to shut up and listen to the heart of God. It’s as simple as that. And in prayer, we find out what Isaiah found out in prayer. I am not God. God is other and God has ideas and thoughts and loves of his own and they are not the way I think and feel and love and see. In prayer Isaiah heard these words, 

          “My thoughts are not your thoughts,

          nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
          As high as the heavens are above the earth,

          so high are my ways above your ways

          and my thoughts above your thoughts.”

This morning I’d like to reflect briefly on that reality: “God’s Ways Are Not My Ways.”

Or shut up and discover you’re not God.

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Today’s gospel gives a concrete example of what Isaiah heard in the principle that God’s Ways Are Not My Ways. It’s the Parable of the Generous Vineyard Owner.

George McCauley said, “If Jesus got killed for any single teaching, the teaching in today’s gospel might have been the one.”

Doesn’t God have the right to do what God wants to do? We cry for that gift for ourselves, yet we often don’t want or don’t allow God to be God. We want God to fit into our image and likeness. Isn’t that a horrible form of idolatry? And of course, God laughs at us and his laugh can be heard in the halls of prayer.

Don’t we get angry when others peg us, when others try to mold us, when others try to shackle us, when others try to force us to do what they want us to do, when others want us to be what they want us to be, when they want us to be in their image and likeness?

Doesn’t every man and woman grow up fighting their parents dictum: “My will be done.”

The boy whose father is an admiral doesn’t want to go to Annapolis. The boy whose father is a surgeon doesn’t want to go to med school. The daughter whose mother was an Olympic diver or gymnast, doesn’t want to spend hours and hours on becoming an athlete.

We want to choose our own salad dressing, our own college, our own hair style, underarm deodorant, our own future and our own friends.

THE OTHER IS FREE

One of the great learnings in life then is not only allowing another person to be free, but that the other person is free: free to choose, free to do what they want to do.

Yet people spend millions of dollars for cosmetics, cars, clothes, dinner engagements, health spas, weight loss to get another to like and love them.

Yet people spend millions of pounds of psychic energy planning and trying to get others to love them.

Yet people spend millions of units of time on phones, writing letters, visiting others, to get them to love them.

And the crash comes when we discover that love is free. If another loves us because of looks, cars, clothes, age, money, etc. all that can crumbles in an earthquake. Relationships need to be built on love that is free. Those are the best relationships. Those are the kind of relationships that stand in the test of time.

GOD

So too with God. God is free to love as God wants to love. God chooses. And all this is mystery and it causes anger and frustration. Yet look around. Go to class reunions. Look at who married whom. You'd be surprised. Some people settle in Scranton and some settle in Seattle or Sacramento. Life is funny. Choices are funny.

Can’t we allow God a sense of humor. Can’t we allow God to choose his friends. Can’t we allow God to do life as God wants to do life - to give some people more than others.

TODAY’S GOSPEL

So once more, once again, we come back to today’s gospel. We see that God has a sense of humor. God isn’t fair. Love isn’t fair. God has favorites. God plays favorites. God is free to do what God wants to as God. If God wants to make penguins and hippopotamus’, monkeys and octopus’, then God can make all of the above and all of the below - funny birds of the sky, fascinating fish of the sea and those who walk or run or slide along the surface of the globe.

US AGAIN

We want that freedom for ourselves, let’s let God have the same.

The heart of prayer then is letting go and letting God - letting God be God. The heart of love is being loved not because of anything we do, but because the other chooses to love us.

And that’s the shock of love: to find out that we are loved by another - and we had nothing to do with it.

CONCLUSION

And the greatest shock is that we are loved by God, not by any thing we do, but because God simply loves us. Sit in prayer and you’ll begin to hear the sounds of love: God’s love for you and maybe God’s love for the other person as well as that crazy guy you read about in the morning paper.

AH SWEET MYSTERY 

OF LIFE .... I STILL 

CAN'T FIND YOU 

Poem for Today - Sunday - September 21, 2014

THE GAME

When the travelling planes pass at great altitudes

over distant villages

the children halt their play

and raise small hands over their eyes

to view the beautiful travelling toy

and as soon as it disappears behind some scattered clouds

they rush along in full force

after a torn ball

and repeat short songs

but no one knows

where their lyrics come from.

(1978)

© Banda ‘Abd al-Hamid [1957- ]

in When the Words Burn,

An Anthology of

Modern Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour

Page 129

BE OF HATE 

A LITTLE MORE CAREFUL 

THAN ANYTHING 

Poem for Today - Saturday - September 20, 2014

WHEN I KILLED MY LOVE

I hated you, till there was nothing

but my terrible hate to converse with.

Into it I poured tomorrow's blood

and drowned my present.

I fed it the fire of curses, revolution and revenge,

inflicted my cries of hatred upon it in my dark song,

sustained it with the sleep of the dead

and drew a curtain of ghosts and gloom around it.

I despised your name,

its shadows and echoes.

I loathed its colour and tune,

rhythm and form

and the rough memories

which fell, were consumed

and dwelt in eternity all in a moment:

and I was resurrected as a new poem

which says that the past is only a word.

Victory was mine as you fell,

a statue over a cliff.

I came to bury the pieces under the grief of the cypress.

Hungrily my spade split the earth,

and touched

a cold and frightful foot.

I proudly dragged to the light

—Whose corpse? the remains of regret ...

The night was a mirror where I beheld my hatred

and my dead past, but not the centre of my being.

I knew then,

having killed you in my cup and night

and borne my murdered slowly to the grave—

knew, by the lugubrious hue of my face

that I had only killed myself.

(May 12,1952)

© Nazik al-Mala’ika (1923-2007)

pages 78-79 in When

the Words Burn,

An Anthology of

Modern Arabic Poetry: 1945-1987,

translated by John Mikhail Asfour