If we could all
just stop throwing stones,
and stoop, knees bent
and write in the dust,
we'd see that the dust
was once stone -
grand, and hard, and proud, and tough -
now ground and dissolved
in grace and tears.
So... how much better
to be a grain of dirt
on that kind prophet’s hands
than a stone
in the cold, accusing Temple
of the pure.
Technorati Tags: Dirt
Be gone cobwebs,
Dust, don’t gather.
Air, don’t still
And stones don’t settle.
All that creeps and steals,
Skulks, sneaks and slithers,
Retreat!
There is life here, reignited,
Burning, heat and light.
No word can be said,
But the stone still cries out,
And retreats in holy fear.
Air rushes in terror to escape,
But is inhaled again,
In, out, in, out.
A leaden chest rises, and falls;
Black blood melts red and circulates.
An eye is opened, a muscle twitches;
A word is about to be said.
Creation, three days in revolution,
Waits in cold dread for its hearing…
But receives only forgiveness as
The sun rises.
Technorati: Resurrection | Easter
Amniotics spilt, and semiotics rupture;
There are no words, just raw screams and suckles.
Child of God, child of man - no difference:
New life is unmoored emotion,
a wide sea of tears and sick,
one desire: to feed, to gather more, be mother-close.
But God won't stay.
Controlled crying.
Separation an immediate fact post-partum:
we must learn to settle ourselves and enjoy the moments we have together.
Foretastes of another rupture to come,
a larger curtain rent, another cry of pain
when we'll be thrown down into
Mother's hands, never to leave them.
We used this piece in a service reflecting on our 'finitude'. We'd love to see ourselves as immortal. We're not. And Lent is a good time of 'mini deaths' to reflect on this.
//
We remember God, falling to earth as a seed, to live in our dirt, to suffer our pain, to understand our weakness, and to die and be buried. We struggle to understand life beyond death. We live as though immortal, and though death surrounds us on every side, we do not often confront it. In this communion, we remember God who died, and we hold the mystery of this death as comfort for our fear, pain and mortality.
[Call]
As we prepare to accept these symbols of God's death, we remember:
Those who have died
Those who mourn
Those who face death
[Response]
But if it dies, it produces many seeds
[Call]
As we prepare to accept these symbols of God's death, we acknowledge:
Our fear of death
Our deadness of spirit
Our frailty and mortality
[Response]
But if it dies, it produces many seeds
[Call]
As we meditate on these mysterious symbols of life beyond death, help us:
To live with uncertainty
To hold on to the world lightly
To comfort those who mourn
[Response]
But if it dies, it produces many seeds
Dismissal (after communion)
[Together]
Accept these symbols of life and death. May they lighten your spirit, enrich your life and give you peace. Amen.
Originally uploaded at vaux.net
This is the introductory reflection I wrote for the Celtic Soliton Sessions in Northern Ireland in February 2007.
It is based around some thoughts I had on an alternative reading of the Judas narrative. What if Judas had actually thought he was doing Jesus a favour? What if he, just like the other disciples, had got it all wrong, and though Jesus needed a helping hand to catalyse his military coup? This would obviously explain the kiss a little better...
At communion we are offered a piece of bread. Just as Judas was. Often we are about to go out 'into the night', just as he was. So what are we going to do with these gifts of bread and wine? Be like Judas and try to co-opt Jesus into our own revolutions, or be like Christ and walk the way of sacrifice?
The longer text towards the end of the piece is taken from the final chapter in my book Signs of Emergence, or The Complex Christ in the UK.
It all helps
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