What I’m Thinking is a brief weekly reflection on the upcoming Scriptures – except when it becomes What I’m Singing. How Could the Story End?
They stepped out in the morning’s shade
Bearing the spice mixture that they’d made. How will we roll the stone away? Is a question they don’t need to ask today.
How could the story end?
Grieving/mourning/searching for a cherished friend? No, the story goes on past the closing page: Jesus Christ is risen!
They found that things were not as they had been.
The stone was rolled aside and they went in. With startled face they heard the word That Jesus’ resurrection had occurred.
They left in fright and who could blame them
If they kept silent lest the story shame them. But someone told and someone told and so we all know: That Jesus Christ is risen!
A poem/prayer based on Mark 16:1-8, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Easter Sunday.
[Thomas] said to them, “Unless I… put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” – John 20:25
I don’t want to make this a condition
of belief, my Friend. I don’t want to make this a condition of relationship; oh, no.
While I don’t desire so to place
my finger on or in your wounds, I crave in separation time your touch, A hand, a breath, a deep embrace.
So great a thing as that.
A poem/prayer based on John 20:19-31, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, second Sunday of Easter.
The image is The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio – http://www.christusrex.org/www2/art/images/carav10.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6804893.
This is, perhaps, my way of emulating
your three days away, to let a silence fall between a midday and a morn, to wait and see if resurrection lifts the weary bones once more, restores connections, grants the boon of inspiration.
But truth to tell, my risen friend,
I yearn much more that you would speak to me and all the weary world as you addressed your friends that night behind the fast-closed door. Come wish me peace, dear Jesus. Come and wish us peace.
A poem/prayer based on John 20:1-18 the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, Easter Sunday.
Image of Christ greeting his disciples by Duccio di Buoninsegna – http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/d/duccio/buoninse/index.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3925674.
In shadow I approach you, Lord.
Though other times, I would embrace the light this morning I will seek the dark avoiding watching hostile eyes.
An alleyway for shelter, then
moon shadow of an overhanging roof. Step slowly, lest a watcher spot the motion of my furtive form.
I make this journey into shadow, Lord,
as you embraced the darkness not three days ago, and gasped that it was finished to the broken beating of my heart.
And now, one shadow still remains,
a deeper blanker blackness that should not be there. My heartbeat hammers in my throat to see
an open tomb.
A poem/prayer based on John 20:1-18, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel reading for Year C, Easter Sunday.
Photo of the lunar eclipse of January 31, 2018, by Eric Anderson.