Poems

I Must Turn Aside

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments
A male figure standing next to a bush.


“Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight and see why the bush is not burned up.'” – Exodus 3:3

Before the Name, there was the charge.
Before the charge, there was the word of grief.
Before the word of grief, there was the word of heritage.
Before the word of heritage, there was the holy ground.

Before the holy ground, before toes dipped into the Earth,
there was his own name.
Before his own name, before he knew the voice knew him,
there was the voice.

Before the voice, before air waved and wove,
there was the question.
Before the question, before the wonder at strange sights,
there was the vision.

There was the vision, light flickering on the hillside,
flames orange and red, flashing despite the sun,
but somehow still green, still verdant, aglow
with the life of its leaves and its stem.

Before all that followed, curiosity led
a man without nation, a tree without root,
to turn from his path and take a new course,
and just for a moment, plant his toes in the soil.

A poem/prayer based on Exodus 3:1-15, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year A, Proper 17 (22).

The image is Moses and the Burning Bush by an unknown artist (ca. 3rd century) – Dura Europos Synagogue, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=129215196.

Conformed or Transformed

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment
A painting of a robed man holding a sword and letter.

“Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of the minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God–what is good and acceptable and perfect.” – Romans 12:2

Who would know more about being transformed than Paul?
Not me.
How many were sightless in mind and then eyes like Paul?
Very few.
Who sought to transform his entire world view like Paul?
Not so many.
Who managed carry along all his quirks as did Paul?

Well, that’s me.

Who probably thinks of himself much too well (as did Paul)?
Yes, that’s me.
Who knows he conforms to the world’s expectation too well?
Me as well.
Who exaggerates just how much faith is within him? Any guesses?
It’s me.
Who struggles for balance between faith and knowledge and action?

Well, that’s me.

Transform me anew, living God, Holy One,
Conform me to mercy, encouragement, diligence.
Transform me anew, living God, Holy One,
That I may continue to follow your Way.

A poem/prayer based on Romans 12:1-8, the Revised Common Lectionary Second Reading for Year A, Proper 16 (21).

The image is The Apostle Saint Paul by El Greco (between 1610 and 1614; painting displayed at the El Greco Museum, Toledo, Spain – 1QEs4novinaf3A at Google Cultural Institute, zoom level maximum, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=29844105.

From the available evidence, I think Paul’s besetting temptation was always arrogance and hubris. Writing to strangers, he held it in check in Romans. It’s much more visible in other letters – but I think his advice “not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think” was addressed to himself as much as his readers.

It is the one attribute I can safely say I share with a saint.

Foreigners and Eunuchs, Eunuchs and Foreigners

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments
A single image with three elements of the same story. In the upper left, a child flailing in bed. In the center, a woman leaves the home to follow a group of men, one of whom is Jesus. In the the lower right, she kneels to him in petition, with a dog next to her.

Do not let the foreigner joined to the Lord say,
    “The Lord will surely separate me from his people,”
and do not let the eunuch say,
    “I am just a dry tree.”
– Isaiah 56:3

Foreigners and eunuchs;
Eunuchs and foreigners.
Anathema they are in the words of the law.
Anathema they are in the tales of the histories.
Foreigners and eunuchs;
Eunuchs and foreigners.

Suddenly, inspired by God
a new word: “These I will bring
to my holy mountain,”
to joyfully raise up their prayers.
Foreigners and eunuchs;
Eunuchs and foreigners.

We have heard other words,
have we not, from this time,
from our time, from the times
of so many others rejecting outright
Foreigners and eunuchs;
Eunuchs and foreigners?

We can choose what we read
and believe from the Bible.
Foreigners and eunuchs;
Eunuchs and foreigners
Exiled from the homes that they made
with their families, commanded by Ezra.

Foreigners and eunuchs
Eunuchs and foreigners;
would challenge the limits that Jesus
imposed on himself and win
healing for children, not dogs,
with great wit and compassion.

Foreigners and eunuchs;
Eunuchs and foreigners
would read in Isaiah
of a lamb deprived justice,
and persuaded by Philip
would seek out the waters.

So which shall it be,
and how shall we be, with
Foreigners and eunuchs,
Eunuchs and foreigners?
The cruelty of Ezra?
The welcome of Philip?

Or perhaps we might follow
the quick turn of Jesus
to hear wisdom and heal
and to lay down our limits on
Foreigners and eunuchs;
Eunuchs and foreigners.

A poem/prayer based on Isaiah 56:1, 6-8, the Revised Common Lectionary Alternate First Reading for Year A, Proper 15 (20).

The image is Jesus and the Woman of Canaan by Lucas Cranach the Elder (1537) – https://www.sammlung.pinakothek.de/de/artwork/8eGVWjr4WQ, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=105154922.

The editors of the Revised Common Lectionary chose to omit Isaiah 56:2-5 from the reading, which specifically address the welcome for eunuchs in the prophet’s vision. I’ve chosen to include their inclusion in this poem.

Wholehearted

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments


“I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever.” – Psalm 86:12

My heart is fractured, God.

Let’s face it, it’s been broken by
the disappointments and betrayals of
my all-too-human life. What mortar can
rebuild the broken soul?

My heart is fractured, God.

My heart is torn by contradictions, pulling me
from one side to the other. If
it were a matter of but two directions, I
could manage – but it’s more than two.

My heart is fractured, God.

Not all my inclinations and desires
content me, God. I know that some are sin,
and know you know which other ones are sin,
that I am happy to delight in.

My heart is fractured, God.

How can I give you thanks
with a whole heart? My heart is shattered in
the bony cage which carries it.
I sing a wild cacophony of praise.

My heart is fractured, God.

But you, O God, are merciful.
Your grace abounds beyond imagination. You
forgive and heal and give me strength. Someday,
perhaps, I’ll praise with a heart that’s whole.

A poem/prayer based on Psalm 86:11-17, the Revised Common Lectionary Alternate Psalm Reading for Year A, Proper 11 (16).

The image is A Paper-made “Broken Heart” by Sakazaki at English Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=55764723.

Like Jesus

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 5 Comments


“For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.” – Matthew 11:18-19

There was a time they said I looked like Jesus. I
had grown my hair quite long, and wore a beard
whose scraggly thinness I would not wish on a Savior.

Has anybody ever said I act like Jesus? I
cannot say I have overheard the words,
although it’s true I like to eat and drink.

Nobody, I’m quite sure, has said I look like John,
or act like him. I’m no ascetic. As I said,
it’s true I like to eat and drink.

Nor does it matter. Whether clothes are soft
or ragged, whether wine is sweet or sour,
the task is still to testify to truth:

That God is real, and God is loving. God
cares about the ways we treat each other, more
than making regular appearances at worship.

God is not fooled by fools, and not by shrewd
deceit. Yes, God will judge, and yes, God will forgive,
but God will grieve for every sin we wreak upon each other.

So unconcerned about my clothes and diet, I
still wonder: does anybody think I act
like Jesus, righteous, showing love and grace?

A poem/prayer based on Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, Proper 9 (14).

Photo of Eric Anderson by Eric Anderson.

During my first year of college, I was cast in a play set in the 17th century. To look “the part” a little better, all the male actors let their hair and beards grow. During my spring break back home, a number of old friends insisted that I looked like Jesus, much to my surprise and consternation. I think I’ve finally lost the portrait photo taken for the lobby display, which is all for the best.

Don’t You Think I’d Rather Tell You What I Want to Hear?

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments

“And the prophet Jeremiah said, ‘Amen! May the LORD do so; may the LORD fulfill the words that you have prophesied and bring back to this place from Babylon the vessels of the house of the LORD and all the exiles.'” – Jeremiah 28:6

I hoped I’d have a simple life. I had
ambition, certainly. I would succeed
but in a nation resting in its justice, peace,
its people living all in righteousness.

It was a pleasant dream. Though some
may learn while young how hard the heart
of human beings may be, I hardly knew.
With age I learned that things were not as I assumed.

And so I find myself today a croaking voice
of warning, heard sometimes with pity (which
is better than contempt). I’d tear my hair,
except I know I’d add derision to contempt.

Do you not think I’d rather say that everything
will be all right? Do you not think I’d rather claim
that the illusions of my childhood will
become our daily bread and feed us all?

The prophets long before me named the sins
impoverishing the poor, empowering the rich,
and warned that these would undermine
the underpinnings of the covenant,

The covenant with God, and with the people who
are paid so little, and who ask that if
they lack the wealth, at least they might receive
the justice to maintain themselves in life.

Increasingly this justice is denied. Increasingly
this covenant is broken, as the rich
grow wealthier, and the poor grow desperate,
and imperiled populations walk in fear.

Do you not think I’d rather tell you what
I want to hear? I yearn to live my working life
and my retired life in peace. The times say otherwise.
And though I’d rather tell you lies, I’ll speak the truth.

I’ll speak the truth I do not wish to hear.

A poem/prayer based on Jeremiah 28:5-9, the Revised Common Lectionary Alternate First Reading for Year A, Proper 8 (13).

The image is Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalem by Rembrandt van Rijn (1630). Web Gallery of Art:   Image  Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15417236.

Cast Out This Slave Woman with Her Son

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

“But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, ‘Cast out this slave woman with her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.'” – Genesis 21:9-10

They laughed, the boys at play.
How many mothers watched? But one
saw threat and dissolution of
the wealth expected for her own.

How precious was her Laughter! She
had laughed to hear an angel say
that she would bear a much-desired son,
for she had forced her maid already to

Her husband’s bed, there to conceive
the older laughing child. No wonder that
she laughed, not just at things that could not be,
but that she’d brought an heir to life.

But now, she finds that promises fulfilled
have made a change. The boy she forced
another human being to bear, what is his place?
She could not bear to share the wealth.

“Go, cast them out,” she said to Abraham.
“He cannot have a place beside my son.”
Now Abraham had argued with his God
to find a place for his first born, but no.

He would not argue with his wife. He cast
them out. He knew the skin of water would
not last, and neither would the food. He cast
them out to where the sun would bleach their bones.

They were disposable, these two,
to Sarah and to Abraham. They’d had
a purpose once, but it had flown.
No purpose in the camp? Then go.

Too often and too many people find
they have been named “disposable”
by others with the power to displace
them, cast them out, and let them die.

But God, despite a failure to tell Abraham
and Sarah, “No. You shall not kill,” at least
preserved the lives of Hagar and of Ishamael,
declared that they were not disposable.

How soon will our humanity see what
our sacred texts still strain to see: no people are
disposable. All souls have worth to God,
and if to God, then how much more to us?

A poem/prayer based on Genesis 21:8-21, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year A, Proper 7 (12).

The image is Agar and Ismael (Hagar and Ishmael) by Jean-Charles Cazin (before 1880) – webmuseo.com, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16403268.

But I Can’t

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

“[Jesus said,] ‘As you go, proclaim the good news, “The kingdom of heaven has come near.” Cure the sick; raise the dead; cleanse those with a skin disease; cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.'” – Matthew 10:7-8

Give without payment, O Lord? But I can’t.
How will I eat, where will I sleep,
if I don’t have a contract or letter of call?

What do you mean, life has no guarantee?

Cast out the demons, O Lord? But I can’t.
I’m not sure I’d recognize a demon in person,
and surely I’m lacking the strength for such spirits.

What do you mean, my strength is in you?

Cleanse those with a skin disease, Lord? But I can’t.
Ask my dermatologist. My own skin’s a problem.
I cannot heal myself, let alone someone else.

What do you mean, bring healing, not cure?

Cure the sick, you say, Lord? But I can’t.
I’ve no more control over illness of body than skin.
Send the physician to those who are sick.

What do you mean, you are a physician of souls?

Raise the dead, you say, Lord? But I can’t.
If I had such power, I’d have used it already,
to hold all the loves that I’ve lost in my life.

What do you mean, give hope to the hopeless,
strength to the fainting? What do you mean,
pilot the rudderless, encourage the fearful?

What do you mean, breathe life into your Body?

A poem/prayer based on Matthew 9:35-10:8, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, Proper 6 (11).

The image is The Sick Awaiting the Passage of Jesus (Les malades attendant le passage de Jésus) by James Tissot (between 1886 and 1894) – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2006, 00.159.118_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195961.

Watch… Me?

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

[Jesus said,] “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.'” – Matthew 9:13

Would you like to know what blessing is? asks Jesus:
Watch me.

Would you like to know what light is? asks Jesus:
Watch me.

Would you like to know what righteousness is? asks Jesus:
Watch me.

Would you like to know what love is? asks Jesus:
Watch me.

Would you like to know what honesty is? asks Jesus:
Watch me.

Would you like to know faithfulness is? asks Jesus:
Watch me.

If you watch me, says Jesus, you will find compassion.
You will find forgiveness.
You will find welcome.

If you watch me, says Jesus, you will find healing.
You will find inclusion.
You will find life.

The challenge, says Jesus, for those who would follow me,
is when people would know about
blessing and light, righteousness, love.
When people would know about
honesty, faithfulness, healing, inclusion, and life:
What will they see when they watch you?

And I ask:
What will they see
when they watch me?

A poem/prayer based on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, Proper 5 (10).

Photo by Eric Anderson.

Praise the Poet

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 5 Comments


God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. – Genesis 1:31

Praise the Poet, Breath and Wind and Word,
who movement on the waters stirred up light
and night and land and sea, stars and planet whirling
on the cosmographic page.

Praise the Poet, summoning the earth to green abundance,
summoning the seas to swarm with life,
summoning the trees to welcome birdsong,
summoning the land to bear the tracks of feet.

Praise the Poet, maker of more poets, speakers of the word,
creators in the image of Creator, author of more authors.
A human writer often finds their characters find their direction.
The Poet watches poets make a universe of words.

A poet of the people, though, relies upon the languages
of human speech, on rhyme and rhythm and multiple meanings,
while God has written in broad rays of light, in buzzing bees,
in sweet perfume, in gentle touch, in salt upon the tongue.

Praise the Poet, Breath and Wind and Word!

A poem/prayer based on Genesis 1:1-2:4a, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year A, Trinity Sunday.

Photo by Eric Anderson.