Poems

The Work to Set Free

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

“But the Lord answered him and said, ‘You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?'” – Luke 13:15-16

It’s awkward, Jesus. You had a way to know
the ways in which the people who surrounded you
were bound. Now, I do not perceive as truly or
reliably as you. I can, and do, assume too much.

I have to ask, “Are you restricted? Are
you tethered in some way? What holds
you back, or ties you down, or bars your path?”
Because it might be what I see, or what I don’t.

My prayer, then, Jesus, on this day
is that you liberate me from my expectations,
so that when I put my shoulder to the door,
I push upon the door I should, and not one I should not.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 13:10-17, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 16 (21).

The image is an illustration of the episode of the bent woman found in a Coptic illuminated gospel prepared by a monastic copyist and artist (ca. 1250) – From the Evangéliaire copte http://ipac.icp.fr/uPortal/page/decouvrir/expo/evangeliaire_copte/presentation.htm, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8548976.

Grim Stories

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments


“By faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish with those who were disobedient, because she had received the spies in peace. And what more should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets…” – Hebrews 11:31-32

Rahab and Samson, heroic opposites.
She was the foreigner betraying her nation,
saved by her pledge to the ruthless invader.
Her neighbors all died, but she and her family did not.

Samson the Strong, a leader and judge,
praised for his strength but not for his folly.
Like Rahab, he trusted an enemy, losing his strength.
But when it returned, he died with his foes.

Grim heroes. Grim stories of warfare,
betrayal, coercion, and death. No wonder
that neither received “the promise” in full.
How could they, when the promise of Jesus is life?

A poem/prayer based on Hebrews 11:29:12:2, the Revised Common Lectionary Second Reading for Year C, Proper 15 (20).

The image is of two mosaics in Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome (ca. 430). Above: Joshua meets the commander of the Lord’s army. Below: Israel’s scouts flee from Jericho, aided by Rahab. Photo by Fabrizio Garrisi – Own work, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=157025271.

Where Is My Treasure?

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments

“[Jesus said,] ‘Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.'” – Luke 12:33-34

Jesus, I am not a wealthy man… by some standards.
Were I to leave my work, I’d quickly run through savings,
have no home, sell the things I use to give me joy –
the instruments, the cameras, the things that prompt my memory.

By other standards, I have wealth beyond imagination.
I do not know where my next meal will come from, but
I know that it will come. I know that if a wave arises
or a lava river flows, I’ll have a place where I am safe.

My wealth be great or small, I must confess, it still is mine.
In honesty, I’d sooner heed Isaiah’s words: do good,
seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, raise
my voice in favor of the widow. But.

You, Jesus, raised the bar. The tithes has turned to everything:
my ukulele, photographs; my work time and my leisure,
what I think and write and speak and make.
For you demand all these be yours, be God’s, be holy gift.

So Jesus, I confess that though I give you much,
it is not all. I may give alms; I may give time;
I’ve taken on the role of the religious, but:
it is not all. It is not all.

Dear Jesus, please accept my offerings, my alms
of treasure and of time, of sweat and contemplation. Take
the portion of my heart that unreservedly I give to you. And
forgive the heart, and treasure, which I still keep for myself.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 12:32-40, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 14 (19).

Photo by Eric Anderson.

You Fool

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments
A skeleton stands beyond a seated man in fine clothes with food and coins before him.

“But God said to him, ‘You fool!'” – Luke 12:20

It hardly seems fair to call him a fool.
Call him a practical man,
call him far-seeing,
call him descendant of Joseph, I say.

What did he do when faced with a surplus?
He saved! Did the thing I’ve been told since a lad
I’m to do with the coins that remain.
When the rainy days comes, I’ve been told, they’ll be there.

In Egypt, the dreams of a monarch warned Joseph,
“Prepare when it’s fruitful for days when it’s not.”
And so I’ve been taught (if not followed so well),
and so I have urged when it’s my turn to tell.

What’s wrong the rich man? Why was he a fool?
He followed the ancient advice to the letter:
Built barns that would hold all a good year
produced; saved grain for the needs a bad year would demand.

Is that what he did? No, he said, “I’ll make merry
with all of my goods in my barns and my hand.
I might give a pink slip to all of my workers.
They’ve done all I want, and I want to be done.”

Whose will the grain be? And whose all the wealth
when the soul and the body divorce in the night?
Not his. He has gone where the soul is the seed,
and gold is the spirit which he had ignored.

How easy, how likely, to play such a fool,
to mistake greed for prudence and pride
for precaution. How often, I wonder, have I
played the fool, for much lesser riches

And hubris as great? You know, Storyteller,
and though you disclaim it, I know that
you judge with a knowledge I lack.
Though I’ve no grain for barns,

And no fruit for freezers, I’ll spend
what I have for the people around me:
a poem, a song, or even a sermon.
May God bless these gifts. May God bless us all.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 12:13-21, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 13 (18).

The image is Der reiche Mann und der Tod (The Rich Man and Death) by David Kindt (1622) – CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22079990.

I really like this painting. Subtle it’s not.

In the Night

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 5 Comments

“[Jesus said,] ‘I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything out of friendship, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.'” – Luke 11:8

I could wish that Israel had been so considerate
of its poor, instead of getting into bed
with riches and with greed. I’d think that hard-edged coins
would break their sleep, but sleep they did until they slept no more.

I could wish that Hosea had been so considerate
of his wife and children. Yes, It was a metaphor of power,
but I’d think the tears of hard-said words and names
would break their sleep, but sleep they did.

I could wish the neighbor heard his friend’s distress
and rose with empathetic energy to meet his need.
I guess the friend was fortunate that shouts and calls
would break their sleep, until they brought the bread and slept anew.

I could wish all these many things and more,
when wealthy men enrich themselves at the expense
of people who, deprived of healing balm, find death
would break their sleep, and carry them from this world’s cares.

While in the shadows Jesus watches, weeping.
While in the shadows God is raging, tears a-stream
to know that in these broken covenants even the rich
will wake from sleep to find their fortunes blazing.

While in the shadows God the Holy Spirit waits
for someone who will listen and embrace
the wisdom that resounds of old: to give your neighbor care,
and wake from sleep to bright and joyful day.

A poem/prayer based on Hosea 1:2-10 and Luke 11:1-13, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading and Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 12 (17).

The image is The Importunate Neighbour by William Holman Hunt (1895) – http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/collection/pub/itemDetail?artworkID=32843, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10103482.

The Fading of Summer Fruit

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

“This is what the Lord GOD showed me: a basket of summer fruit…

“The time is surely coming, says the Lord GOD, when I will send a famine on the land, not a famine of bread or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the LORD.” – Amos 8:1, 11

Your summer fruit, O God
(and in these islands fruit of winter, fall, and spring),
is filled with flavor, brightly colored,
nourishing to body and to soul.

Your summer fruit, O God,
is not like fruit of human avarice,
which may be rich in flavor,
but when it grows from stems of greed

It rots much quicker in the heart.
It sickens not just those who eat,
but also those who see the way
to grow rapacious wealth

And plant their poisonous seeds as well.
So we have seen, and now we see,
your warning via Amos, God,
against the ones who grow their fruit

by trampling on the needy,
ravishing the poor,
rushing to sell short
and place their thumbs upon the scales.

The poor are sold for silver and
the needy are worth less than shoes.
E’en so the fruit of greed decays
and poisons all who breathe its stench.

A poem/prayer based on Amos 8:1-12, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year C, Proper 11 (16).

Photo by Alan Levine (cogdogblog) – https://www.flickr.com/photos/cogdog/5073842069/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57008876.

Caption from the original photo

@dailyshoot: 2010/10/11: Let’s start out the new week by making a photo with a red point of interest. Make sure your subject really stands out. #ds330

Don’t get close to my rotten tomatoes. After all the effort to grow them, being sick, I’ve not had time or energy to cook with them. These two went to the compost, the basket to the trash, and the remaining toms to a neighbor who can use them right away.

Neighbor

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 6 Comments

“[Jesus asked the expert in the law] ‘Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.'” – Luke 10:36-37

We all know the story, O Jesus – a credit to you
that we understand its scandalous message
even today. “Who is my neighbor?” “The one who shows mercy.”
Even the one whom we view eyes askance.

We all know the story. We’ve not softened its meaning.
If we would be neighbors, the model Samaritan
shows us the way. I just have one question:
When did we choose that we would not be neighbors?

Mercy lies bleeding on the stones of the highway.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 10:25-37, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 10 (15).

The image is Den barmhjertige samaritaner (The Good Samaritan) by Elisa Maria Boglino (1928) – Eget foto af maleri udført af (own photo of painting of) Elisa Maria Boglino, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=73771804.

Exultant

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

“[Jesus said,] ‘Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.'” – Luke 10:20

Jesus – May I call you Jesus?
“Mister of Nazareth” doesn’t glide from the tongue.
Jesus – yes, Jesus – can I offer some help?
Your marketing skills are frankly first century.

You’ve got seventy people who are all on a high!
What things they accomplished!
What heights they’ve attained!
They may not have seen the fall of a devil,

But then, who has?

Now, Jesus – yes, Jesus – let’s get to brass tacks.
They’re open. They’re glowing. They’re all fired up.
That’s the time when the iron is hot. So strike!
Whatever it is that you’re selling, they’ll buy.

But Jesus – oh, Jesus, may I call you Jesus? –
why throw cold water on bright red-hot steel?
They’d follow you anywhere, until that sad moment
you quenched their enthusiasm at the power they’d found.

C’mon, Jesus, why?

So try it again. This is a disaster,
but you can recover. I know that you can.
Praise them for their power. I tell you, they’ll love it.
And then, O and then, what they’ll buy! What they’ll buy!

Oh, yes. What they’ll buy.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 10:1-11, 16-20, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 9 (14).

The image is “Christ Came into Galilee” by Phillip Vere. From “An illustrated commentary on the Gospel of Mark” by Phillip Medhurst, between 1791 and 1795. FAL, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34448342. This isn’t an illustration of the return of the Seventy, but I really like the way Jesus’ extended hands seem to be pushing down on the emotional level.

Who Do You Say I Am?

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 6 Comments

“And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to prepare for his arrival, but they did not receive him because his face was set toward Jerusalem. When his disciples James and John saw this, they said, ‘Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?’ But he turned and rebuked them.” – Luke 9:52-55

Did I not ask you, not so long ago, who you say I am?
James? John? Do you remember that?
I guess you thought I was Elijah, after all
(or that you were?), to call down fire
on the captains and the fifties, or onto their
Samaritan descendants in this village.

Did I not say that those who’ll follow me will bear
a cross, and lose their life to save it? And were
you listening to me, or to your glorious dreams?
No wonder that the heavenly voice which called me “Son”
demanded that you listen to me – since you weren’t.
And now you want to destroy lives with heavenly fire.

Well, no, my friends, we won’t do that.
We’ll make our way on by, and take our rest
where people offer welcome out of grace,
not out of threat, and we will tread
a Via Dolorosa, you and I and all our friends,
to show God’s love will not be bounded by

rejection much more thorough, drenched
in blood’s finality, a breath unfinished,
body broken, and forsaken by my friends.
No, James and John, the world is filled with fires;
no need to summon them from heaven’s vault.
What’s needed is to love, and love, and love.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 9:51-62, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 8 (13).

Photo of lava fountains on Kilauea by Eric Anderson (May 25, 2025).

Angels

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments

“Then [Elijah] lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, ‘Get up and eat.'” – 1 Kings 19:5

Be the angel, O God,
when I am weary and frightened,
when the burdens oppress me,
and I despair of my life.

Bring me food.
Bring me water.
Let me rest.

When another is weary
and frightened, O God,
when the burdens weigh down
the hope of new life,

May I bring food.
May I bring water.
May I bring rest.

May I be your angel.

A poem/prayer based on 1 Kings 19:1-15a, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year C, Proper 7 (12).

The image is Elijah in the Wilderness by Frederic, Lord Leighton (1877-1878) – uQG9WGfbc10kDw at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21878932.