Prayers

Strange Protection

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 8 Comments

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power; put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil…” – Ephesians 6:10-11

I’m grateful that the struggle is not with
the powers of blood and flesh. Not if
I’m to rely upon these items
for protection of my vital spark.

What happens to the righteous? Why,
they suffer, as do those who speak of peace.
A shield of faith is powerless against
an arrow, or a club, or fist.

Should I entrust my head to its
salvation? The logic doesn’t work for me.
I wish I thought an offense of the Spirit,
of the Word, protected anyone, but… no.

And worst of all, to recommend
I gird my waist with Truth, as if
the truth has ever carried any weight
when cut so easily by lies.

But then I see a brilliant coral
called “The Armor of our God,”
protected by no more than truth,
feebly anchored to its rock.

These corals can be shattered by
a careless underwater step,
the floating residue of sun protection, by
a current that directs its food away.

If coral, brilliant in its indigo,
can live its fragile life beneath the sea,
I might, perhaps, submit my life
to living with this unprotective armor,

Rooted in the truth, acting righteously,
striding ever toward the reign of peace,
with faith displayed before me, head
a-crowned with Christ’s salvific work,

Equipped to bring the Spirit’s Word
to those who might, in turn, take on
this truth, this righteousness, this peace,
this saving faith, this summons from our God.

Author’s note: I have no idea what I was going to write about before I found this photo of an “Armor of God” Zoanthid coral.

A poem/prayer based on Ephesians 6:10-20, the Revised Common Lectionary Second Reading for Year B, Proper 16 (21).

Photo of an “Armor of God” variety Zoanthid coral by la.kien – https://www.flickr.com/photos/67619130@N07/6952012176/in/photolist-bAjT1U-ex665Z-ex6q1Z-8mZvs2-fgfi1z-4WFdDR-byjPn1-aoBVqF-4C8EsV-e35MjW-bMetRP-8AxwPo-8hRGc3-8zTVeH-8zTV8i-4KdVqj-4WKv3A-a6JBuH-4CcXgS-a68Ner-a6bDtY-a6bDEo-d8cXaC-8knfqw-8knfrL-adg9dt-eARtXV-eaP1mp-n3vueH-kdub15-e385Wo-6icch6-nxntwv-ne6ED7-69VkyF-eCZ3h3-fQbC2i-nPijbf-fHGFCK, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=37054836.

Living Wise

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

“Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs to one another, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts.” – Ephesians 5:18-19

I know the psalm: “The fear of the LORD
is the beginning of wisdom.” How did you
not know that, Paul?

(Especially since you gave advice
to Timothy to drink not only water, but a little wine
to soothe the stomach.)

It cannot be denied, of course, that alcohol
debauches so much of our bodies, brain and
liver and good sense.

Yet I would think that you would have
more puritanical advice than this, to be
filled with the Spirit.

I guess old Martin Luther got it right
when he set his great lyric to the tune
of an old drinking song,

And told his critics that the Devil should
not get all the good tunes. Fill up, you say,
with Spirit, and rejoice.

Not fear, but celebration; not in gloom,
but in rejoicing; not in silent prayer,
but in the flood of song:

This is wisdom. This is living faithfully.
This is making deep connections
with God’s grace.

The fount of wisdom springs from reverence,
but gains its height from joy and thanks.
May we be wise.

A poem/prayer based on Ephesians 5:15-20, the Revised Common Lectionary Second Reading for Year B, Proper 15 (20).

Photo by Eric Anderson.

Pluck it Out

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

“It happened, late one afternoon when David rose from his couch and was walking about on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful.” – 2 Samuel 11:2.

It happened? Oh, yes, and Oh, no.
It happened that you noticed.
It happened that you looked closely.
It happened that you inquired.
It happened that you sent.
It happened that you raped.
It happened that you sent the victim home.
It happened that she conceived by you.
It happened that you tried to cover it up.
It happened that her husband had more integrity than you.
It happened that you sent him to the army.
It happened that you ordered his death.

It happened, David, every step,
because you chose, decided, acted,
harmed, and hurt, and murdered.

A pity that you couldn’t have heard Jesus’ words,
which were, it’s true, a thousand years away:
“If your eye causes you to sin, tear it out.”
We’d read about a mystery of how you lost your eye,
not how you raped and killed with scarce a thought.

I hope Bathsheba’s presence smote your heart
with guilt on each remaining day you lived.

A poem/prayer based on 2 Samuel 11:1-15, the Revised Common Lectionary Alternative First Reading for Year B, Proper 12 (17).

The image is David Sees Bathsheba Bathing by James Tissot – https://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/d/images/3/3a/King_David_Bathsheba_Bathing.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=31379015.

Teach Us, Jesus

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 6 Comments

“As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he began to teach them many things.” – Mark 6:34

Bring your compassion, Jesus,
for our shepherds howl like wolves.
They lay the rod of law with harshness
on the poor and spare the ones in power.

Teach us, Jesus.

Bring your compassion, Jesus,
for our shepherds carelessly use words
that others hear, and hearing ponder.
Pondering, they set themselves to violence.

Teach us, Jesus.

Bring your compassion, Jesus,
for the shepherds cannot find the way
that leads between our Scyllas and Charybdises,
and lost, we founder in moral morass.

Teach us, Jesus.

Bring your compassion, Jesus,
and teach us many things,
like how the shepherd cares first for the sheep,
whereas the predator consumes them.

Teach us, Jesus.

We are sheep without a shepherd.
Teach us many things.
And may we, by God’s grace,
learn.

A poem/prayer based on Mark 6:30-34, 53-56, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Proper 11 (16).

The image is Christ Preaching Amongst a Crowd of People, pen and ink. Artist unknown. Found at WellcomeImages. https://wellcomeimages.org/indexplus/obf_images/a0/a1/69c69bd8f2f91424aa360aeb47d6.jpg
Gallery: https://wellcomeimages.org/indexplus/image/V0049499.html
Wellcome Collection gallery (2018-03-28): https://wellcomecollection.org/works/ycntxjvs
CC-BY-4.0, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36668704.

Dance, David, Dance

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

David danced before the LORD with all his might… – 2 Samuel 6:14

Kick your heels up, David,
send the linen skirted ephod swinging.
Wheel and circle, drum your feet
in time with tambourines and cymbals.

Some will scorn you in your very house,
and some will watch in silent disapproval.
Some will wonder how you dance when death
struck down a helping hand last time.

What else to do but dance? you cry.
The presence of the LORD has blessed
the places where the mercy seat has paused.
So what to do but dance with joy as it comes home?

Whirling skirts and pounding feet.
Flying fringe and soaring hair.
Kick your heels up, David. Dance!
And bring us blessing in our heart and home.

The image is Transfer of the Ark of the Covenant by David by Paul Troger (1733), a fresco in the Altenburg Abbey Church, Altenburg, Austria. Photo by Wolfgang Sauber (2018) – File:Altenburg_Stiftskirche_-_Fresko_David_und_die_Bundeslade.jpg, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77865740.

Weakness Obstructed

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 8 Comments

“…but [God] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.'” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

In weakness God makes power.
In the stammering speech.
In the thinning skin.
In the cane-assisted stride.

In weakness God makes power.
In the eyes that do not see.
In the ears that do not hear.
In the legs that do not bear.

In weakness God makes power.
In the mind that cannot focus.
In the hand that cannot grasp.
In the appetite that cannot resist.

In weakness God makes power.
But those who are made
in the image of God
make obstacles; and why?

In weakness God makes power.
In the root that makes its soil.
In the child that makes its generation.
In the death that promises eternal life.

In weakness God makes power.

A poem/prayer based on 2 Corinthians 12:2-10, the Revised Common Lectionary Second Reading for Year B, Proper 9 (14).

Photo by Eric Anderson

Twelve Years

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 6 Comments
Photo from R.M.N. / R.-G. Ojeda

“Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years.” – Mark 5:25

“And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age).” – Mark 5:42

Twelve years is not a long time
to live.

Twelve years is a long time
to live in pain.

Twelve years is an instant
for a parent.

Twelve years is an eternity
for a sufferer.

Twelve years is too short
to welcome the hand of Death.

Twelve years is too long
to welcome the cruelties of Life.

Twelve years is a grief
when it ends.

Twelve years is a joy
when it finally closes.

Twelve years should be a beginning
not an end.

Twelve years is a beginning
and an end.

Twelve years is precious
in a daughter.

Twelve years is precious
in a daughter.

I took up these ideas in the song “Twelve Years and Moment,” also published on this blog.

A poem/prayer based on Mark 5:21-43, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Proper 8 (13).

The image is of the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage from the Très Riches Heures du duc de Berry. Artwork by the Limbourg brothers (between 1411 and 1416) – Photo. R.M.N. / R.-G. Ojéda, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17443172. Somewhat unusually for images of this text, Jairus’ daughter is visible at right in the upper image.

Don’t You Care?

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 5 Comments

“But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?'” – Mark 4:38

For once, it wasn’t me.
I’m known, of course, for saying all
the dumb things I could say to Jesus.
This time, it wasn’t me.

(And wouldn’t you know, the time
it wasn’t me, they left the culprit
unidentified. I ask you,
was that fair to me or not?)

No, I was busy with the flying rig,
and leaning hard to counter all
my lubberly companions who
knew nothing of the balance of a boat.

I thought it best to wake him, too.
I couldn’t calm the lubbers down.
Perhaps he could, and then old James
and John and Andrew might have saved the day.

Not even I, with all my lack of sense,
would dare to utter what he did
(I, too, will shelter here the guilty one).
“We’re perishing! Or don’t you care?”

Though rope ran slick along my bloody palm,
I winced to hear those words. I’d said them
to my mother once, and only once.
“I don’t believe you care at all!”

I knew that Jesus would respond
no better than my mother had.
Like her, he fixed the problem first,
the wind and sea subsided,

But then he turned that steely glare
upon us, one and all, even those
who never would have mouthed
those ill-considered words, and said:

“Why are you mewling cowards? Do
you ask me if I care? Have you no sense?
No confidence? No faith?”
And we said nothing back at all.

In truth, my confidence was lacking then.
I trusted in my seaman’s skills
in preference to God. But none of us
appreciated then what he had asked of us.

He asked us not to trust in him awake,
but trust in him asleep. He asked not to trust
in God when fiery pillars stride, but when
the way is still unknown.

He asked us not to trust in signs,
but in their absence. He asked us not
to trust in prophecy, but in
the new things prophets had not said.

We asked the question, “Who is this?”
as if the answer mattered more
than how we meet the challenges of life
encouraged by our trust in God.

A poem/prayer based on Mark 4:35-41, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Proper 7 (12).

The image is Stillung des Sturmes durch Jesus (Jesus Calms the Storm), a relief on the exterior of the Stuttgart Stiftsckirche (Collegiate Church of Stuttgart), 1957, by Jürgen Weber. Photo by Andreas Praefcke – Self-photographed, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15039823.

Try Me Again

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

“And the LORD was sorry that he had made Saul king over Israel.” – Samuel 15:35

“Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the LORD came mightily upon David from that day forward.” – 1 Samuel 16:13

Will you be sorry of my anointing, God?
How much regret do you bear for me?
How have I grieved you? How have I dismayed you?
Or rather, not how. But when. And how much?

Truly we serve you a very short time,
since our birth and our death are mere heartbeats away.
How much regret does one soul lay on you?
Does it burden you more as each person dismays?

If you are sorry of my anointing, O God,
I cannot be surprised. I can only confess
that I’m trying, and struggling, and failing,
and sometimes, I might do it well if you try me again.

A poem/prayer based on 1 Samuel 15:34-16:13, the Revised Common Lectionary Alternate First Reading for Year B, Proper 6 (11).

The image is David Anointed King by Samuel, (3rd cent. CE) reworked by Marsyas – Dura Europos synagogue painting : Yale Gilman collection, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5107843.

Home Divided

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 3 Comments

“And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, ‘How can Satan cast out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand.'” – Mark 3-23-25

We’ve seen so many times and in so many places just
how right you were back then.
Divided nations run to evils unimagined, but
so bitterly recalled.

You set aside the critics’ pointed accusation that
in healing, you performed
Satanic will by arts Satanic, too, which made no sense
as you so rightly said.

And then they brought you word: your mother and your brothers ask,
“How are you, brother, son?”
Kept back from you by the besieging crowd they could not see
how changed you had become.

“A house divided cannot stand,” yet you would break your home,
insult your family.
Had they not done the will of God who sent you? Were they not
still one with you in love?

A poem/prayer based on Mark 3:20-35, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Proper 5 (10).

The image is Toute la ville étant à sa porte (All the City Was Gathered at His Door) by James Tissot (between 1886 and 1894) – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2006, 00.159.78_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195908.