Prophesy to the Bones

March 27, 2020 / Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

Ezekiel once stood upon the city wall.
He stood, he gazed. I’m sure he wept.
For on that day he saw an army
terrible and merciless. It filled the valley,
all the valleys, that encircle Zion.
He stood. He gazed. I’m sure he wept.

When You showed him all those desiccated bones,
O God, what fashion did the valley take
in his imagination? Kidron?
The Outer Valley? Or Gehenna?
Or had You mercy enough to make it look
like a Babylonian valley spanned with gardens?

I doubt it mattered. Ezekiel wept, I’m sure,
upon the wall. I’m sure he wept the see
even an unfamiliar valley overflowing
with the dead. Bones so dry, dry as dust,
unmoistened even by the flood of tears
of a priest and prophet’s grief.

Command me, Holy One, to prophesy
and promise to the dusty bones that they
shall live again. Command me, Holy One,
to summon up the spirit breath to bind
with sinew all these bones. For then shall I
appreciate the salt of joyful tears.

A poem/prayer based on Ezekiel 37:1-14, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year A, Fifth Sunday in Lent.

Photo of a detail of the Knesset Menorah in Jerusalem by Deror avi – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4085158.

No Explanation; No Blame

March 20, 2020 / Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (John 9:2)

All you need do, Redeemer, is explain.
Explain the suffering, the illness, the
dis-ease. Explain the disabilities,
ill fortunes, and abuse. Explain it all
so we may know the cause, the source, the blame.

In truth, we are less interested to see
the sufferer healed. We gain a measure of
self-satisfaction in our judgments, yes?
And leave the sad afflicted in the sad
result of “their own failed and sorry lives.”

But you, Redeemer, will not settle for
the sadness of our satisfaction. You
insist that we lay down our judgment, hear
the voices we would silence. You insist
we act as healers in the suffering world.

May we take your direction in this time:

[Jesus said] to him, “Go, wash…” (from John 9:7)

A poem/prayer based on John 9:1-41, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, Fourth Sunday in Lent.

The image is Le aveugle-né se lave à la piscine de Siloë (The Blind Man Washes in the Pool of Siloam) by James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2008, 00.159.173_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10957455.

Sir, I See

March 12, 2020 / Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

Faster than a speeding teacher,
more focused than a paralytic healed,
more attentive than a crowd full of dinner:
Look! By the well! It’s a foreigner!
It’s a woman! It’s…
Me!

Could it be me, dear Jesus, so to grasp my thirst
so earnestly, so honestly,
to hold it up before you in its naked need?
Could it be me to have you take so seriously
all my urgent questions, still to leave me
speeding house to house, in all my
comic-fictive strength, inviting:

“Come and see! For I’ve been known
in strength and weakness, height and depth.
Come and see! For only you (and you and you)
and I together can determine once for all:
Could this One truly be the Christ?”

Could it be me?

A poem/prayer based on John 4:5-42, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, Third Sunday in Lent.

Photo of a mosaic in Sant’Appolinare Nuovo in Ravenna, Italy, by © José Luiz Bernardes Ribeiro, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=52650776.

Hands

March 11, 2020 / Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

For decades, I have sought to capture,
living in its stillness, the tenderness
of human beings holding hands.

Palm clasped to palm, thumbs pressing down,
three top fingers wrapped securely and
the pinky lightly tapping its caress.

It’s rare to catch the magic of a hug.
The grace of dance still glides
across the frozen frame. And clasping hands:

They pulse with rest dynamic. And now,
I must refrain and urge that others, too,
should bow or nod or pause without a touch.

In taking hands, my friend, I hope to share
my hope, my peace, my comfort there with you.
I love you far too much to risk your health.

We must content ourselves with photos for a time.

Hold the Complexity

March 6, 2020 / Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

I asked the Holy One, not once but time
and time again, to tell me what is first
and prime. The sound of silence breathed to me,
“Grace. Grace is first, and last, and everything.”

I might have raised a voice in protest to
the silent breath, to claim the privilege
of suffering for faith, through faith, in faith.
“Grace. Grace is first, and last, and everything.”

Have I not traveled farther in my span
of years than Abraham in his? Might I
not claim the mantle of such righteousness?
“Grace. Grace is first, and last, and everything.”

But breathed the silent syllables: “Did you
devise yourself, beloved child? Did you
create the feet you set upon the road?
Grace. Grace is first, and last, and everything.”

Blessed be the Holy One who makes to be
the things that were and things that have not been.
Blessed be the One whose sound of silence breathes:
“Grace. Grace is first, and last, and everything.”

A poem/prayer based on Romans 4:1-5, 13-17, the Revised Common Lectionary Second Reading for Year A, Second Sunday in Lent.

Photo by Eric Anderson.

Tempted; Deceived

February 27, 2020 / Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment

Of course I’d be out-crafted
by the crafty in the absence
of the knowledge, of the wisdom,
to discern what’s right and wrong.

Of course I’d be deceived
by a deceiver in my
ignorance of good and bad,
of lawful and unlawful acts.

Of course I’d take the way that ends
my ignorance, my foolishness,
my childishness, my folly.
Wouldn’t anyone?

I’ll take that fruit and share.

I’ll also wish I’d thought,
in all my quest for wisdom, that
perhaps the One who loves me best
might ache at my betrayal.

A poem/prayer based on Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year A, First Sunday in Lent.

The image is Eve Tempted by the Serpent by William Blake – Victoria and Albert Museum, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24661174.

Like an Angel

February 21, 2020 / Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments