this story we pass along

this story

first whispered as a secret

then shouted from housetops

inscribed on parchment
scrawled into books

hewn out of stone

painted on cathedral ceilings

played out on film
set to a million songs

bought, sold out, misused, trampled,

burned out, resuscitated

fought for, died for

carved in human flesh and blood

and all of us will write

    the next chapter

come to me

[The Magi] went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was.  When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. --Matt. 2:9-10

Star watchers, then and now

Every year we recount the story of the ancient astronomers, who, reading the signs in the sky, traveled hundreds of miles to find the Christ child whom they sought with all their souls, so they could see Him with their own eyes and pour out their honor with a torrent of exotic valuables.

Several years ago I wrote a song for a Christmas Eve service, and the lyrics still haunt me.  Because I can imagine how many souls on the planet will be looking up into the night sky this Christmas, metaphorically or literally, looking for some star or sign that those old stories are true.  Wanting to see something luminous that will convince them that there really is a God who is truly with us, and who knows that we exist. 

COME TO ME

I got a Christmas card today

I couldn’t read the poetry

I couldn’t take the phrases in

because my mind began to spin

on sentiment and mystery

and how they square with history

the current world reality

and God it’s all confusing me

it’s getting harder to believe

when Bethlehem is under siege

when angels dance on TV screens

and people steal from manger scenes

when good news is so seldom heard

and peace on earth is just a word

good will a relic from the past

how long can this confusion last

every star is out tonight

shining that unearthly light

and once again I scan the skies

with forty million other eyes

searching for that ancient star

listening for that distant choir

reaching out through time and space

to hear Your voice

to see Your face

I know you came a million miles

that You became a tiny child

You came to earth to set us free

Jesus hear me asking--

come to me

angel

you don’t know i exist

i love you nonetheless

given to shield you

bonded to defend you

by an ironclad promise

which I will never break

sense me in the air

almost audible

always there

on high alert when you fear

all ears when you pray

strong arms when you fall

sworn to deliver you

safe and sound

from here 
to There

shepherd

one keeper of animal souls

on his anxious midnight mission

trekking the dark hills and flats

over rocky ground where nothing grows

but so much can get lost

alert with watery vision

pupils squinting

searching

picturing the terrified eyes

of the one lost out there

cut off from the flock

imagining its fear

its hunger

and the deep lonely of its breathing

wandering clueless but anxious

helpless

the flock will be all right

they have each other

but what about this disoriented one

has panic set in

is it dehydrated

is it on its side

fallen

vulnerable to predatory creatures

i must not rest

i must not flag in energy

i must not sit down

nor despair

I must scan the horizon

check every fleck

every distant disturbance

until I find it

comfort it

and bring it home

crusades (from fast forward)

May we have a moment of silence

for the unspeakable violence

of the Great Crusades

the Church’s version of a Holy War

complete with rivers of blood

rape and torture

by all accounts

not our finest hour--

who will speak the truth to power?

sweet morning light

i will trust
through the darkest night
what i knew to be true
when i last saw daylight


i move by faith and not by sight
till at last i see
what you promised to me
on the distant horizon


the first sign
of sweet morning light

enter the monasteries (from fast forward)

                                                                                  

Iron church bells 
multicolored stained glass

icons of angels

the blessed crucifix

candles incense

eternal flame

monks and sisters

chanting out the Holy Name

lives of saints and broken bread

priests and presence

vows of silence

enter the monasteries

learning the practices of the presence of God

celibate, set apart

a community unto itself

disciplines of the Spirit

going deep

deep

into the world of the Holy

the soil that gave birth to

St. Francis

Brother Lawrence

Mother Teresa

instruments of your peace

the seasons festivals common prayer

the Spirit that hovers in the atmosphere