The Sermon on the Mount: poems of the Incarnation (6)

 The Mountainside

Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside…. Matthew 5:1

I love your classroom, Lord.
When I was a kid in Ramona Elementary School,
in that old yellow building just off Main Street,
I would gaze out the row of windows,
longing for recess, wanting the freedom
of grass and trees and open skies.
Your outdoor classroom sounds perfect.
I imagine myself in that crowd,
sitting on the grass, looking up at you
there on the side of the hill,
your voice clear and strong
in nature’s amphitheater.
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

 Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit
(for theirs is the kingdom of heaven)
Matthew 5:2

My friend Sarah is perpetually depressed.
She whines and simpers so much
it's hard to be around her.
Can I talk to you? is prologue
to at least an hour of listening
to her litany of woes: parents
who didn’t like her, a failed
marriage, a son’s suicide,
and a grown daughter who, like me,
doesn’t enjoy her company.
Poor in spirit seems a mild description.
So how is Sarah blessed?
How does she possess the kingdom of heaven?

For that rag-tag crowd of people gathered
around you on the hill, and for all us
pilgrims gathered now around you in Spirit,
we hear you tell us, The kingdom of heaven
is at hand! It’s here! It’s available
for anyone, especially the most unlikely.
It’s waiting for Sarah
to enter and be blessed.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn
(for they will be comforted)
Matthew 5:4

The earthquake in Turkey and Syria
dominated the news for weeks.
Images of villages decimated,
tall apartment buildings brought down,
and in the midst of rubble, the people.
A mother, tears tracking the dirt on her face,
tells the cameraman, I’ve lost everything. She has.
Grief hangs heavy in the dust.

Hope is scant among survivors who have lost
loved ones, homes, their means of making a living,
and all sense of security in a world
gone dark and dangerous.
How are these the faces of the blessed?
Who dares tell them, Be happy;
comfort is coming.

So many questions, such complexity
under the surface of this simple statement.
You call for human feet and human hands
at the service of your kingdom, but
how can I be a part of what I barely believe?
How can I say to you, Here am I; send me?
To them, Be blessed?

Traveling light: poems of the Incarnation (5)

Good Soil
… other seed fell on good soil…. Matthew 13:8

I’m all the soils.

Sometimes I’m so flat and dull
that the seed of God’s word to me
becomes bird food. A flutter
of distracting feathers
and everything’s gone.

Other times I’m rocky and full of thorns.
Prickly, temperamental,
and entirely entitled.
I block the sun.

Only you can turn me
into good soil, Lord.
Little by little
soften my heart.
Render it tender
and open.
Give me eyes that see
and ears that hear.
Able to abide in you
and bear fruit
for the world.


Don’t Cry
When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her…. Luke 7:13

When my daughter was just a few weeks old
and cried, her three-year-old brother
would urge me to there-there Kristin,
there-there being the natural
thing to say while patting
a crying baby’s back.
When Jesus encountered
the weeping widow accompanying
the corpse of her only son,
my version of the Scriptures records
him telling her, Don’t cry.
In the vernacular he well
could have put a hand on her shoulder
and said There-there.
My baby girl grew up.
She no longer cries for her supper.
The widow, too, stopped crying
when Jesus restored her son.
And I hear the God of all comfort
sometimes telling me, There-there.

Weeds or Wheat
… [the] enemy came and sowed weeks among the wheat…. Matthew 13:25

Please, Lord,
deliver me from the arrogance
of judging which of my acquaintances
is wheat and which is a weed.

You get to decide that.


Traveling Light
Take nothing for the journey except a staff.  Mark 6:8

When we left for a term of missionary service,
we counted two suitcases per person,
plus carry-ons and travel bags.
We shipped the crates separately.
I would calculate the kids’ ages
three years in advance and purchase
appropriate clothes and toys.
And books! Can’t forget our resources!
Their weight drove up the shipping costs
but aren’t missionaries supposed to be poor?
Being prepared was crucial
and making sure our kids
(who were not called) were well provided for.
We never even bothered to pack a staff.

  

Refugees: Advent poems 4

 The Star

… the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. Matthew 2:9

Strange travelling star,
you baffled the magi.
They followed you,
anxious to solve your mystery.
You continue to baffle.
How could you have led
the travelers from Jerusalem
to Bethlehem? How could you
have stopped over a specific house
where a mother nursed
her baby? Were their instruments
so sophisticated?
Were you a comet
flying low and slow,
on a special mission?
Are you a metaphor
for how hard it still is
to follow the Light?
And how possible?

Refugees
“He got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt. Matthew 2:14

They fled in the night. Warned in a dream,
they had little time to sort and pack. They grabbed
what they could, bundled the baby,
and quietly slipped down the alleys
and out of town. The trek across the desert
was brutal, water at a premium.
Egypt was a strange far place to them. 
Did they experience resistance at the border?
Did Egypt have a policy of mercy for those seeking political asylum?
Maybe they found an unguarded spot and slipped across the border
unseen. Once inside, where did they stay?
Did they find room in some foreign inn?
Years later, back home in Palestine,
did Jesus remember his refugee days?
Even now does he have a place in his heart for others
who flee across deserts and borders, seeking a place to call home?
No doubt.