nine::(twentynine)thirty

See through me.
That is all I ask,
is that you would try
to ply away the image
I have created of myself.
I want to be gentle.
Not sure if I am.
For the moment
I'll call my foe the devil,
but how can I look beyond my eyes
to see an enemy?
You inside,
what do you think you're doing?
Weren't you true?
And you're blind now.
What is this?
Life is given back,
can you not see?
This is what forgiveness is for.

(twentynine: Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14/Revelation 12:7-12, Psalm 138, John 1:47-51; thirty: Amos 6:1, 4-17, Psalm 147, 1 Timothy 6:11-16, Luke 16:19-31)

nine::twentyeight

In solitude,
in the silent listening,
on the quiet mountain,
or by the trickling stream,
in the silent listening,
we might hear our name.
We, in solitude,
in the company of friends,
in hope,
in trust,
might see our end.
We perceive the emptiness,
the darkness,
the ruins which we encamp,
and, though dimly,
we see a light.
In silence
the light may be dark,
not to us,
but to the chattering,
yet light shines,
our name is spoken
in silence.
Now we may ask,
who am I?
With humility we may ask,
Who do you say I am?

(Haggai 2:1-9, Psalm 43, Luke 9:18-22)

nine::twentysix(twentyseven)

Who are these people?
From whence do they come,
bringing nothing,
having all they need,
giving?

Is anyone asking this today?


(twentysix: Ezra 9:5-9, Tobit 13:2-4, 7-8, Luke 9:1-6; twentyseven: Haggai 1:1-8, Psalm 149, Luke 9:7-9

nine::twentyfive

What is favor from the empire?
I suppose at moments in history
it did not destroy a people.
Favor may have even felt good,
consecrated.
But that never lasts.
The government will eventually
stand at the door and knock,
assuming a right for entrance.
They will not understand right will,
and the doors will be broken down,
the favor was only a sham
now that you've learned the good.

(Ezra 6:7-8, 12b, 14-20, Psalm 122, Luke 8:19-21)

nine::twentythree--nine::twentyfour

--twentythree--
Know this: God is concerned with the poor and the lowly. Money may mean something now, but in time it will not; what then will you do? Lose your faith in money. Have faith in the God who loves those without.

(Amos 8:4-7, Psalm 113, 1 Timothy 2:1-8, Luke 16:1-13)

--twentyfour-a homily--

The Lord has done great things for us. In this place we come to contemplate the goodness of God, to remember God's good work in the creation, to praise God for God's work in Christ. We are here because the lamp has not been concealed. It is found on its lampstand, exposing all things secret, both good and bad. This exposure is transforming us, bringing us back to God in the power of the Holy Spirit who dwells in our bodily temples. The Spirit has brought us together to commune with God and with each other, to be made a people of promise, to be people who may weep for recognition that not all is right all the time, and yet rejoice now and will rejoice as we enter into the good work of the Kingdom.

Let us rejoice in thanksgiving, for God has brought us here to do good things for us and to make us to do good as well. God provides bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ, more precious than gold or silver, to make possible this transformation. Goodness is revealed at the table. Let us be inspired to proclaim that God is building the Kingdom, that God is still doing marvels, even today, even in this place and in the places we go to from here, rejoicing. (Amen.)

(Ezra 1:1-16, Psalm 126, Luke 8:16-18)

nine::(twentyone)twentytwo

Let us clear the stones from the ground
make room for the sun to shine,
for fruitful times with drunkards.
Some were made for this, some for that,
all for all, we must find where,
and sit silently not assuming our roles.

(twentyone: Feast of St. Matthew, Ephesians 4:1-7, 11-13, Psalm 19, Matthew 9:9-13; twentytwo: 1 Timothy 6:13-16, Psalm 100, Luke 8:4-15)

Taste the Voice of Weeping

Tears can come with the hearing of a certain voice.
An echo of a call heard before.
An image of the self in another lowly one.
And tears are often a sign,
a clarifying blur when how to see is forgotten.
How low we are.
How small.
How young in the age of the creation.
How can we assume to teach a thing?
Knowledge seems such a reach,
and yet, we are to share?
Love, be pure, speak?
Where do the words come from?
And so we see our tears fall,
we taste their preserving saltiness.
Fear and trembling:
wisdom and discipline.
Taste the goodness of that guiding voice.
Be still and listen.
Love, then, and speak,
and weep.

(1 Timothy 4:12-16, Psalm 111, Luke 7:36-50)

nine::(eightteen)nineteen

Live truthfully.
True to the self you are,
the self you are for God,
for others.
It is honorable to desire to serve;
know the hardship coming.
And, yet, proclaim still.
Give up the things binding,
things of a false self,
and be found in the house of God,
on the mountain,
in the valley,
soaking in a stream.
And go back
as yourself.


(eighteen: 1 Timothy 3:1-13, Psalm 101, Luke 7:11-17; nineteen: 1 Timothy 3:14-16, Psalm 111, Luke 7:31-35)

nine::seventeen

(A Homily)

"Lift up your hands." Why? What causes us to put our hands in the air. For some, a fist in the air is a symbol of defiance. A rapper may want us to not think about the words he's saying, so he tells us to put our hands in the air. For some, it happens in a moment of fear. The world over, soldiers and police officers point their guns in others faces, bullets and powers in their faces, and hands reach for the heavens. Folks in churches (not one I've been in for a while) put their hands in the air when singing. Sometimes, I consider throwing my hands in the air and moving to a cabin in the woods.

What kind of hands in the air are Paul and the Psalmist telling us of this morning? They are holy hands and they are hands lifted toward God's shrine. They are hands not lifted in anger or argument, but perhaps out of sadness, certainly in humility. They are hands connect to our deepest being, for they cannot say to the heart, "I don't need you." They are hands sent out with a knowledge of our unworthiness, like the Centurion sending synagogue leaders to Jesus. "Lord, I am not worthy for you to come under my roof, but only say the word and your servant will be healed."

Now, what are we to do with our hands? Shall we put them in the air in an easily marketed worship pose? Shall we put fists in the air in defiance of something, again, a pose easily marketed? No, there's something about these hands of ours. They're qualified as being holy, as reaching toward something holy. "Only say the word and you servant shall be healed." The word of God, hearing the word of God, leads us toward holiness. Reaching out toward God makes our hands holy. Not some greedy reach, but a humble reach. A reach of faith, not of fear, a surrender of the whole self, not a quivering before the guns of the powers. Hands trained by mercy. Cleansed hands. Hands that lift the bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ, to the friend and the enemy and the stranger. The hands that offer up that deepest being to God.

Lift up your hands. Lift up your hearts. Lift up your very self to the Lord.

(1 Timothy 2:1-8, Psalm 28, Luke 7:1-10)

nine::(fifteen)sixteen

Sorrows fill my mind, fill my plate;
I eat sorrows.
I stumble after meals, wondering,
why do I dine this way?
And, yet, it only seems right.
Why would I only eat air?
What search for food is involved in that,
what celebration is called for?
Sorrow, my heart,
for you will be overjoyed.
Repent, for you will be made straight.
And you will train your appetite.

(fifteen: Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows, 1 Timothy 1:15-17. Psalm 113, Luke 2:33-35; sixteen: Exodus 32:7-11, 13-14, Psalm 51, 1 Timothy 1:12-17, Luke 15:1-10)

nine::fourteen

We've heard, but with closed ears
and as such we walk away
still unknowing,
not wanting to remember,
always looking for our own fill,
never the emptying.

Lift us up, we say,
but not in that way,
not to death.
Yet, it must come one day,
and the only conquering
is to accept, to give up power.

Complain all you will,
with the serpents at you ankle.
Snakes could be sisters,
enemies brothers,
yet the cross is scandalized
and its love ignored.

(Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, Numbers 21:4-9, Psalm 78, Philippians 2:6-11, John 3:13-17)

nine::thirteen

We will never get anything done,
we that forgive, that love,
that place our lives in the hands of our enemies.
Praise is our action,
and some say what good will words ever do?
But I clash cymbals and hit a snare drums.
What are their words?
And see, control is the first thing to give up.
Let us think a moment, let us think with our wholes:
Are the doers doing anything?
Are the lenders at interest gaining?
Are the judges distributing justice?
What if we all stopped and though together?
What if we bowed our heads together?
And kindness, and humility,
and compassion, and gentleness,
and patience, and forgiveness.
Perhaps nothing would be done,
but really what is done without these?
It seems destruction.
The drums and guitar create beautiful music.
The humming bird buzzes and joins the chorus.
Creativity, giving, regressive and time consuming,
but lovely, loving.
But I know nothing, what could I know?
I'm not sure I really want to do anything.

(Colossians 3:12-17, Psalm 150, Luke 6:27-38)

nine::twelve

Woe and woah!
Nothing is as you want to expect.
It is better this way.
That soft tongue slices,
steady is and keep it still,
and then the words you will speak
shall be knowledgeable.
The rich will perish.
All is not as it seems.
Woe and blessing.
They come together,
expect something better.

(Colossians 3:1-11, Psalm 145, Luke 6:20-26)

nine/eleven

The powers have been despoiled by Christ.
I say this aware of its treasonous tone,
a tone many of my brothers and sisters in the church
would be ready to gather stones upon hearing.
I am not a patriot.
I was born in a country; I am not of it.
And the men in power
lie.
They kill.
The have deceived you and me
and we must walk away from them.
We must go away to the mountain to pray.
Buildings will continue to fall,
they will soon tear down another on American soil
and continue to point fingers at others,
and continue to ask you to kill others.
We must walk away to the mountains.
We must pray.
The tormenting spirits are alive in this country.
We must go away and pray.
Hatred and greed rule this people.
We must pray for compassion.
For Christ has defeated the liars,
and we now are Christ's presence.
Towers fall and deceptions rise,
and we must walk to the tops of mountains
and pray.
We were captivated by death
and death swallowed us whole,
but we are now set free by life,
brought into a new Kingdom,
one transcending the old,
even being before them.
You were called out of darkness,
smoke, fear, dust, the news.
You are called to a mountain,
to a mountain to pray.

(Colossians 2:6-15, Psalm 145, Luke 6:12-19)

nine::ten

(A Holimly for Morning Eucharist)

It may be difficult for some to believe, but it is easy for me to become discouraged with things around us. A penchant to point out the negative? No way! And I'm sure no one else here is inclined to such a view of the wortl, either. We're hip to our rose colored glasses, right?

Well, forgive me for joking in a sermon, but this morning, for some mysterious reason, it seems as though the mood should be one that encourages us. Hear the Psalmnist: "In God, our hope, our souls can be at rest." Hear the Apostle Paul: "The myster, Christ Jesus, the hope of glory has been revealed among us." Hear, you with limp limbs, spirits, and discouraged thoughts, hear Christ's word: "Stretch out your hand." These statements, these revelations of mystery, are encouraging and they present to us a reality deeper than the sad story narrated in the news. They even shape us in such a way that we can face the sadness.

See, we are to be tellers of truth. We, like Paul, are to encourage our brothers and sisters, even those we haven't had the blessing to be in the physical presence of. Our lives in Christ are being reshaped--our hearts are encouraged, our very beings are being transformed by and into the mysterious light of Christ. Yes, that light will expose darkness, those things liable to discourage us, but we must continually remember how it is we are seeing them: by the light of Christ.

See, now we are preparing to gather around a table, and on that table we will see mystery. We will see simple bread and wine transformed into food for our whole beings. And we will be in communion with Christ, in the Holy Spirit, and with one another, and with the entirety of the body of Christ through whom the mystery is proclaimed. Let us prepare. Let us be encouraged. Let us encourage. In the face of opposition, mistrust and doubt, let us glory in Christ's love, together walking in the way of the knowledge of the mystery of God, in God's wisdom and knowledge. Be not affraid to be joyous. I'll remind you, and please remind me, that what we are doing here is an encouraging thing.

(Colossians 1:24-2:3, Psalm 62, Luke 6:6-11)

nine::(eight)nine

I have been busier this past week thank many in my life. It literally made me sick. But not figuratively, yet, for good things are being found, and good people are being made known. I am recognizing the great depth of the genealogy I come from intellectually. I am being re-born. The cost is great, yet the world needs us to give all. Strength follows. Joy follows. Loneliness may be here for a while, but then a bright face is found in your presence and movement is possible. So much is mystery and I do not presume knowledge. Yet, what if I were to begin presuming joy? What if I were to begin living into a reality of freedom and refuge in God? And would you come with me?

(eight: Micah 5:1-4, Psalm 13, Matthew 1:1-16, 18-23; nine: Wisdom 9:13-18, Psalm 90, Philemon 9-10, 12-17, Luke 14:25-33)

nine::(six)seven

Nothing will be discovered outside of prayer,
the listening to that internal voice given,
spoken at the dawning of light,
transcendent and inspiring,
spoken above any power.
Prayer is that listening.
Prayer is acceptance of words and life.
It is the taste of good wine,
wine stored well and selected with care
Prayer is to cease existing on your own accord,
to cease existing,
and to then be brought back into fullness of life,
fullness full of humility and emptiness.
Then the transcendent is seen in the other,
the eye of Christ embraces you in the others attention,
and the moment of creation is shared,
the perfecting word is spoken, anew.

God, create life in the prayer I pray.
Breath into me so my face may shine,
shine with a steadiness,
a confidence,
a humility not readily explained.
I must close my eyes to see,
to slow my breathing,
and listen to the thoughts you would have me pray.

(six: Colossians 1:9-14, Psalm 98, Luke 5:1-11; seven: Colossians 1:15-20, Psalm 100, Luke 5:33-39)

nine::five

I've had some time in a deserted place
and it was a good time, I think.
And I have heard of good things,
good people in the world.
Some are planted like trees
and they cycle the life of the good
and they have overcome suspicion
allowing themselves to trust.
Their words ring true
though truth is seldom listened to,
but if we follow Christ into deserted places,
we too shall here the Voice.


(Colossians 1:1-8, Psalm 52, Luke 4:38-44)

nine::four

In the nighttime, daylight can shine.
In the broken, healing can come.

Am I shining or healing?
Must light be placed above me,
medicine placed in my body?
Always.

But I do not fear, for I love.
I want to love.
I want to touch and smile,
ready even for the tumultuous time,
especially ready,
for at night the day breaks in
with a waiting heart,
a contrite and humble spirit.
Heal my touch, my love.

(1 Thessalonians 5:1-6, 9-11, Psalm 27, Luke 4:31-37)

Eulogy for a Garden Spider

She was more swift and patient than anyone I have known
Waiting in her beautifully patterned home
The most striking yellow on her back
Not to warn
But to invite the admiration of the world
She wrote in a language I will never be able to read
And her movement upon her web brought tears to my eyes
A helper in the garden
We shared a space of growth
A plot for the cycle of life
Yet fear still grips us when things seen are not understood
And children learn to hurt what they can’t understand
What they were told to fear
What was screamed into their minds
But now she is no longer here to be feared
No longer living as she was
A teacher
A sister
A mystic
A creature with the wisdom of the earth in her

nine::three

(A Sermon for Morning Eucharist)

What song are we singing? Whose songs do we listen to? These days when one steps outside it is as if the trees are singing, they being full of the chanting cicadas. Sadly, the roar we probably hear most often is not that of the sea, but some old truck or sports car, though we are currently only feet away from Buffalo Creek, mere miles away from some of the numerous falls of Appalachia. They too are singing. And weeping. What song do we sing? Whose cadence inspires our voices and animates our daily life?

Our lives are our song, our worship. We are the church, the embodiment of Christ on the earth, the people who hear the word's Christ spoke that that assembly in Nazareth and fell in our hearts that we are to speak the poem with Jesus:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon us,
because He has anointed us to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent us to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sign to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.

This way of life, a life of proclamation and service, is our cicada chant; it is to fill the air we breath.

In great part, we receive the tempo of our song in this liturgy, in prayer, in the hearing of Scripture, through confession, in table fellowship. The Word made flesh consumes us in the Eucharist as we are brought together in unity as the Body of Christ by the Holy Spirit. Let us listen to the songs of creation, let us sing of love in service to the stranger and each other. All else is mere chatter, empty notes. But we have a beautiful song to sing, a song of hop, of truth, of love.

(1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, Psalm 96, Luke 4:16-30)

nine::two

A place, tranquil and sublime,
attainable in humility
at the darkened setting of a table
is waiting to invite.
Known is this place
with listening and lowering,
a mountain top touched now.

(Sirach 3:17-18, 20, 28-29, Psalm 68, Hebrews 12:18-19, 22-24, Luke 14:1, 7-14)

nine::one

Be not afraid of being yourself.
There is no greater fear,
and no more unnecessary scare.
Fooling your Self.
Ill at ease, unaware.
I tell myself this because I have not yet learned,
but I have learned that I do not know
tranquility.
With myself or with others
we are not yet all together,
and we are not ourselves.
We don't use our hands,
nor our minds,
the day does its thinking for us,
and we are simply here,
but not so simply, for we complicate
all those things not complicated.
Life is not complicated.
Life as it was to be,
but now as it is, it is not.
I admit I am not all here right now.
I have been in the presence of others,
and this was a good thing.
I am running over,
as I planned.
Yet, part of that which needed to leave
has gone away,
and I am more here than I was.
And I certainly am not afraid.

(1 Thessalonians 4:9-11, Psalm 98, Matthew 25:14-30)