Poems

Value

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments

“[Jesus said,] ‘Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it?'”

What is the value of a single coin?
Not much today, when we make money
with printing upon paper, or with
electronic imagination.

What is the value of a single coin?
It might be little even in those ancient days,
unless, of course, it was a tenth
of everything she owned.

What is the value of a single coin?
It might be food to take me through the day,
or into a coming week,
or possibly next year.

What is the value of a single coin?
Enough to set me searching high and low,
to bear the cost of burning oil in the lamp,
to celebrate the sudden silver gleam amidst the dark.

What is the value of a single coin?
A better question might be this:
What is the value of a single human soul?
Enough, said Jesus, for the heavens to rejoice.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 15:1-10, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 19 (24).

The image is Parable of the Lost Drachma by Domenico Fetti (1618) – Web Gallery of Art:   Image  Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15453383.

Building

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment
A pen and ink drawing of a ruined wall and arch.


“[Jesus said,] ‘For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.”‘” – Luke 14:28-30

What are we, Jesus, except people
(men, women, beyond the binary)
who have begun to build
and have not finished?

The Church may be your body, Jesus
(an image which you did not create),
but if it is, it’s a growing body.
Growing, perhaps, and barely born.

It’s a tower rising slowly.
Is there a course of stones
or even less above the ring
of the foundation?

How many Christ disciples
over the millennia
have hesitated, dropped their stones
before they’ve placed them on the wall?

It is no wonder that
so many ask derisively,
“Do you still hope to finish
this construction, grow this Church?

“The walls are fragile, trembling
in a gentle breeze. They waver
from their courses so that any stone
which rests upon them will inevitably fall.”

Well, Jesus, here’s my stone.
I’m not sure it’s well shaped.
I’m not sure it’s well placed.
But here it is. Long may it stand.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 14:25-33, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 18 (23).

The image is captioned “Ruined Foundation at Jericho – the Jordan” in Through Bible Lands : notes of travel in Egypt, the desert, and Palestine (1878) by Schaff, Philip, 1819-1893 – https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/14578232189/ Source book page: https://archive.org/stream/throughbibleland00scha/throughbibleland00scha#page/n350/mode/1up, No restrictions, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44116530.

I’m Waiting

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 4 Comments

“[Jesus said,] ‘But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you.'” – Luke 14:10

Is it fair to tell you I’m waiting, Jesus?
Yes, waiting for you to return in power.
Yes, waiting for resurrection’s dawn.
Yes, waiting for the Day of the Lord.

But I’m also waiting for your advice to work.

For truly, and sadly, I’m just as proud
as ever I was. When others are honored,
a part of me waits to hear my name called
though I know that it’s not about me.

But Jesus, you know, it’s still about me.

I’ve no cause to complain. I’m aware
that the praise I’ve received is more
than I’m due. I know it, and know I should head
for the end of the room, and take my place there,

But Jesus, you know I don’t like to be there.

I like the limelight, the spotlight, the office.
I like the small pond where my frog looks big.
I like it, and sure I’ve received it quite often.
I’ve heeded the summons of, “Friend, move up higher.”

But Jesus, I don’t always think I should be.

I can’t say I’ve bidden the poor to my table.
I can’t say I’ve done all the work I could do.
I can’t say I’ve lifted the spirits beside me.
I can’t say I’ve always been guided by you.

So Jesus, I’ll wait, and I’ll pray that you call.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 14:1, 7-14, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 17 (22).

The illustration is The Parable of the Humble Wedding Guest (1782) by Bartsch, Adam Von (1757-1821), based on an unfinished drawing by Rembrandt van Rijn – http://hdl.handle.net/1887.1/item:1629982, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=99478604.

Of all the temptations to which I’m subject, pride is the greatest.

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.