Monday, April 24, 2017

Easter Saturday

Easter Saturday
Many days ago Mary Magdalene
Came from the empty tomb
Apostle to the apostles I have seen the
Lord

Then she drops from history
If not from imagination
And what an imagination we have had
We have a salacious need to have in the story some
Sex

Joined to sin this sex must be of course
And a woman must be the villain
But Mary of Magdala was no prostitute
She was simply a woman who by Jesus was
Healed

She was healed and was grateful
And joined his followers
Providing for the men
Out of their purse and their
Gratitude

Jesus called her by name in the garden
And so she knew him whom she had known not
As the gardener or body-snatcher
In her mourning her name and that voice brought
Joy

Mary of Magdala deserves more
Than she has gotten from our ignorance
Would should follow her to serve
When no one else would a thereby be an

Apostle

Friday, April 21, 2017

Easter Friday

Easter Friday
The Octave of Good Friday
What of sin these past eight days
Paul says consider yourselves to sin
Dead

In Baptism we renounce sin
In every form imaginable
(and some perhaps not)
Then promise whenever we sin we will
Repent

We renounce with fingers crossed
This is the work of the people
Despite protests to the contrary
We know we will fall short, but not in
Mercy

Christ took on our sins
Once for all we say
Should we also say for all time
Is God engaged in an eternal absorption of
Sin

As in Adam all die the apostle says
So also in Christ shall all be made alive
Even Adam Eve and the serpent
Christ robs hell of its oldest inhabitants and they are
Free

It is the energy of this freedom
Fueled by Love sustained in Faith
Resolving into Hope
That enabled the rising and enables it

Eternally

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Easter Thursday

Easter Thursday
And I wonder on this grey morning
Did the Risen Jesus
Ever stub his toe and
Curse

In the stories after the rising
He seems so solemn
Except for cooking breakfast
A little broiled fish I imagine with a
Laugh

It is true he returns without recrimination
To his friends the betrayers and the frightened
And Thomas with his hubris
He offers three times I give you
Peace

They rejoiced when they saw him
The wounds still fresh on his body
As they will eternally be
Is it possible that fear was so quickly replaced by
Joy

Did they lock the door again
That marvelous peace he gave
Did it replace the fear
Or did it in some strange way
Fulfill

They would come to know
Their lives at no less risk
After the rising than before
But the risk he had shown them was

Love

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Easter Wednesday

Easter Wednesday
The day he was known in the bread
The bread that was broken
And not until it was
Broken

They first spoke to him
Of broken hope
Along the road to anywhere
He called them slow of
Heart

Which gave them heartburn
Which they did not comprehend
Perhaps their hearts had not been slow
But rather withdrawn from
Pain

We protect our hearts
Lest they be broken more often
Than they are whole
Does this make us slow and
Foolish

I confess to confusion
Does Easter Joy take away our pain
Our slow and broken hearts
Or are we not Eastered until we are
Broken

Shall our slow and broken hearts
Be burned into the rising
Is this how divine love works
There is always a death before the

Rising

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Easter Tuesday

The poetry keep coming. I know not if it is good poetry or bad, but it is.

Easter Tuesday
Arrives and we ask
Why is the sound of joy
Already so dim in our ears
Listen

It is a day of question
Why is resurrection promise
Slipping through our fingers
Becoming a strange sound, a
Whisper.

What seemed so real on Sunday
Has returned to the realm of rumor
Listen still, a whisper, a rumor of
Hope.

Today we begin to remember
That the promised joy in not cheap
And sometimes illusive
Slipping through our neural spaces something
Strange

Today it dawns
The Man of Sorrows must lead
Us to the light
With his wounded hands of
Love.

There is a rumor of resurrection
And not all rumors are fake news
Some rumors echo truth
Such is the rumor of

Joy.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Easter Monday

I have't tried to write poetry in a very long time, but here's what happened today:

Easter Monday
The day Good Friday
Re-enters the picture
After yesterday’s relentless
Joy

We’ve had our yearly glimpse
Into paradise
(at least we have tried)
Today earth-bound
Again

Yesterday we told our pain
To flee away and
Some of us thought it did
And the feeling was
Good

But it only takes 24 hours
For reality to return
And we are up against it
Struggling once more for
Hope

But here’s the good news
Friday’s Man of Sorrows
Is Monday’s Emmanuel
Ready to live with us again in
Faith

It is Easter faith, yes,
But we still are learning
How to sing at the grave
Through our tears

Alleluia.

Friday, April 14, 2017

Good Friday 2017

The headline just flashed: 4 people dead in a shooting on an Atlanta MARTA train on this Good Friday.  They are now part of the 4,238 people in the United States who have been killed by gun violence thus far this year, that's 41 people every day.  176 children under the age of 12 have been killed or injured by gunshot in 2017, more than one a day.  864 teenagers (ages 12-17), more than four a day.  77 police officers shot or killed thus far, 605 shot or killed by law enforcement.

The cross goes on and on and on.

We could stop most of this senseless injury and death. but we will not. It's like we, the continuing crowd, just keep shouting "crucify him, crucify him!"  The difference is that Jesus said those people "knew not what they were doing."

We do.