#lectionprayer

The Lost Coin

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

Search for me, Holy Mother.
Search for me. I await
your questing fingers, searching eyes.
Search for me, Blessed One.
I wait.

Oh, how I long to be so sought
as by that sweeping, seeking woman!
How I long to rest in lostness here.
Search for me, Blessed Sister. Here
I wait.

For when you find me, Divine Woman,
when you find me my rest ends.
Then will I, with your other silver discs,
reflect your glory with my polished face.
Until then: I await.

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

The image is La Drachma Perdue (The Lost Drachma) by James Tissot, painted between 1886 and 1894 – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2008, 00.159.93_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195929

Ignorant Clay

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment

The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him. – Jeremiah 18:4

Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me. – Philemon 1:11

I can make no excuse for Paul, O God.
He knew the story of the Exodus,
he knew that you are LORD of people free,
and still he sent a man to be a slave.

Rework me, LORD, into a useful cup.

He knew, but still he did not know, O God,
he did not draw the straight and simple line
from Egypt and Mount Sinai to the life
of Christ, in whom are no more slave or free.

Rework me, LORD, into a useful cup.

He knew, but still he did not know, O God.
And I? What do I know yet do not know?
What insights will seem obvious to those
in times to come so shrouded still from me?

Rework me, LORD, into a useful cup.

So obvious to me, these lacks in Paul.
So obvious to them, the people who
will judge my ignorance. So obvious
that we should give ourselves to be reshaped.

Rework me, LORD, into a useful cup.

A poem/prayer based on Jeremiah 18:1-11, the Revised Common Lectionary alternate first reading, and on Philemon 1:1-21, the RCL second reading for Year C, Proper 18.

Photo by Eric Anderson.

No Problem

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment
“The poor, the lame, and the blind are called into the supper.”

For once, you’re clear
and things are easy, Jesus.
Sit in the back, and far
away from everyone?

No problem.

Some years ago,
and at a wedding feast,
I found myself as far away
from blaring speakers as I could.

No problem.

But wait… You want me now
to throw a party for the poor,
the smelly wastrels and
the unemployed? Yeah, right.

No problem.

I have a choice of texts.
“Don’t work? Don’t eat!” it says
as clear as day and night.
No party for the lazy ones, say I.

No problem.

And so it goes: I choose
the text and means to understand:
yet somehow, when I’m done,
it works out fine for me.

No problem.

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

The image is by an unknown artist. It is found in The Story of the Bible from Genesis to Revelation by Charles Foster (Philadelphia, Charles Foster, ca. 1879), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59927089.

Liberated

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free…” – Luke 13:12

Should you not have asked, O Lord?
“Without so much as a ‘By your leave?'”
as the ex-leper said. “Bloody do-gooder.”
Did she want to be healed, O Lord?

Well, I’ll take it as Gospel
(did you like the pun there?)
that Luke tells it right, and bound
she was, straining for freedom.

Loose the mule. Loose the ox.
Loose the child. Loose the sea.
Loose the woman. Loose the sky.
Set them loose! Loose the Creation!

Can today be a Sabbath I can let loose?
Can today bring a knot that I might untie?
Can today be celebration of liberty?
Can today hear the echoes of praise?

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

Thanks to D. Mark Davis’ reflection at Left Behind and Loving It for insights into Luke’s composition of the Scripture text.

The quote in the first stanza is from Monty Python’s Life of Brian (1979), written by Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin, directed by Terry Jones.

The image is from a mosaic in the Duomo di Monreale, Sicily. Photo by Sibeaster – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4470788.

No Need

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

No need, Jesus.

You came to bring division?
What have we but division?
Parents and children,
spouses and in-laws.
As Micah said, we are
a family of enemies.

So no need, Jesus.

No need to separate
the righteous from the sinners
(no matter that the sinners think
they’re righteous; what a laugh!).
We do that all the time.
Look at our swollen prisons…

No need, Jesus.

Without an aisle to divide
we’ll go to separate rooms.
Without a standard to divide
we’ll come up with a test.
Without a river to divide,
well, we will build a wall.

No need, Jesus.

Unless it might be to divide us
from complacency.
Unless it might be to divide us
from acceptance of injustice.
Unless it might be to divide us
from the rights you know are wrong.

No need, Jesus.

Sigh.

Great need, Jesus.

May we read the meaning of the time.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 12:49-56, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel reading for Year C, Proper 15.

The image is The Last Judgment by Hieronymus Bosch – http://www.statenvertaling.net : Home : Info, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4593502

Are You Sure?

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment
Two crowns (the crowns of the Hawaiian monarcy).
The crowns of the Hawaiian monarchy at ‘Iolani Palace.

Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. – Luke 12 32

Are you sure that’s a good idea?

I am not capable of caring for a country.
I am not capable of managing a county.
I am hardly capable of pastoring a church.
I am barely capable of caring for myself.

I have no talent for a Realm of God.

I have no plans to sell all my possessions.
I will give alms, but I will set my limits.
All my wallets suffer wear and tear;
do You have storage space in Paradise for me?

See my treasure? There’s my heart
(as well You know).

“Dressed for action”? Sure, that happens,
eventually, on working days.
On my day off the risk is Yours to find
bewhiskered and unkempt Your servant.

I cannot claim to be alert or ready.

At least I am aware of this:
There is no point in waiting on a day.
There is no point in claiming, “You will come.”
Because You have already come.

Ready (or not) as I (or we) may be:

You’re here.

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

Photo by Eric Anderson.

God’s Weeping

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 1 Comment
Hosea

My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender.
– Hosea 11:8

What do I hear on the wind?

Is it the sighing of a dove?
Or the sighing of a deity
watching warmly, tenderly
as the Creator’s children stray?

What do I hear in the trees?

Is it resilience in motion?
Or the groans of a deity
swaying in unison
with the Earth’s moaning?

What do I hear on the waves?

Is it the rhythm of ocean?
Or the sobs of a deity
embracing the suffering
of all They have made?

What do I hear in the cosmos?

Is it the cry of expansion?
Or the wrath of a deity
frustrated with evil
beyond all endurance?

What do I hear in the Earth?

Is it the silence of affection?
Or a deity’s anger
cooling, reforming,
bearing us upon forgiveness?

What do I hear?

A poem/prayer based on Hosea 11:1-11, the Revised Common Lectionary alternate first reading for Year C, Proper 13.

The image of Hosea comes from the Menologion of Basileiou, an 11th century illuminated Byzantine manuscript. Artist unknown – http://digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS_Vat.gr.1613/0141?sid=a7590df9b8aca22111c8359533716419&zoomlevel=4, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20645325.

And… That Prayer

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments
Photo of two plaques on a wall. On the left is a text of the Lord's Prayer in Tahitian; on the right is the text in Japanese. A cross hangs on the wall between them.

[Jesus] said to them, “When you pray, say:…
And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive
everyone indebted to us.”
– Luke 11:2a, 4a

Teach me to pray, Jesus.
Teach me to pray to the One in Heaven.
Teach me to pray to the Hallowed Name.
Teach me to pray for a Peaceable Realm.
Teach me to pray for the Needs of Today.
Teach me to pray that You will Forgive.

Qualified forgiveness, of course.
It would hardly be right
if All and Sundry received forgiveness.
So forgive me only if…

Wait.

What?

If I forgive?

You have got to be joking.

Let’s take a good look at this.

Shouldn’t it be God, or shouldn’t it be You,
responsible for forgiveness here?
Can’t you make the choice?
Can’t you make the call?
Aren’t you far more dependable than I?

When you told bold Cephas
that he held the keys to heaven and hell,
did you tell him they were the keys to his own?
That grace received depends on grace extended?
Did you?

Good God, Jesus, don’t give those keys to me.

Seriously, don’t give those keys to me.

Damn it.

What’s that jingling noise?

A poem/prayer based on Luke 11:1-13, the Revised Common Lectionary alternate first reading for Year C, Proper 12.

The picture shows the Lord’s Prayer in two languages – Tahitian and Japanese – at the Church of the Pater Noster on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. Photo by Ori~ – Own work, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19733724

Mary’s Prayer

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

O Jesus, I can hear
the clatter of the crockery,
the puffing of the bellows,
the swirling of the aprons.

O Jesus, I can hear
the half-resentful voice
my sister raised to you;
I hear her dripping sweat.

And Jesus, I can hear the wailing
children, crying refugees,
groaning sufferers, weeping
hungry seekers after justice.

And Jesus, I can hear the silence:
Silence of the powerful.
Silence of the privileged.
Silence of the unjust judges.

What I strain to hear, sweet Jesus,
is your voice. I long to hear
the words of comfort, words of
challenge, words of love.

I long to hear the words
that will unbreak my heart
and melt it into Martha’s,
love showering in tears.

Hold me, Martha, as we weep
together for these words of hope.
I’ll tune my ears to hear your voice
declare your faith in life renewed.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 10:38-42, the Revised Common Lectionary alternate first reading for Year C, Proper 11.

The image is Russian; I regret that I cannot translate the attribution that follows: By Владимир Шелгунов – фотографии переданы представителем ИППО, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=33504499

Martha’s Prayer

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

Worried and distracted
by many things?
O, Jesus, if you knew!
Yes, if you only knew!

It’s not the bread and cookies
or the trays of snacks,
nor the fraying linens
or the dusty sills:

It’s the wailing children, Jesus.
It’s the hopeless refugees.
It’s the pain-wracked sufferers.
It’s the justice-denied and hungry.

It’s the comfortable oppressors.
It’s their eager lackeys.
It’s the ones determined
that they will not see injustice.

Worried and distracted
by many things?
O Jesus, if you knew!
But then, you did; you knew.

Breads and cakes forsaken,
I will shed my tears upon your feet.
How will we dry the moisture
lavished there from streaming eyes?

Hold me, Mary, as we weep
together for the long-awaited reign of God.
Unbind your hair, to wipe away
betraying symbols of our grief.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 10:38-42, the Revised Common Lectionary alternate first reading for Year C, Proper 11.

The image is Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, by Johannes Vermeer. Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21865869