are where holiness is waiting to be revealed.
Devouring Fire
Transfiguration A
Exodus 24:12–18
Now the appearance of the glory of the LORD was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. (Exod 24:17)
You in your holiness burn hot and wild
and we cannot even touch the fringe
like the sun we can only scuttle our ships
lest we rocket too close and get pulled in
But from time to time and place to place
you let your devouring fire flame free
and in grace it does not burn or consume us
and we can stand to be in your corona unshielded
Moses in the clouds and ocean floors undiscovered
Jesus and Elijah mountaintops and firstborns swaddled
astonishing enactments on earth of your will good and just
moments when the second hand stops and joy lingers
We would grasp you in these moments if we could
but your flames elude our fingers and palms and minds,
our categories and rules, and so you are free
from our control and we are unscorched and glad to be
Gracious Ritual of Ashes
Ash Wednesday
Joel 2:1–2, 12–17
Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; (Joel 2:12)
Mark me as one who will not outlast the earth
or the melting icebergs or even the Brooklyn Bridge
Mark me as one who will have a short skip and hop
and reach the end of the sidewalk before too long now
Mark me as one who knows well his nanometric life
and sees in this ephemeral existence a hidden holy gift
Mark me as ash and dust scattered about by artistic wind
landing on a timeless canvas, painting I know not what
Adam and Eve Again
Lent 1 A
Genesis 2:15–17, 3:1–7
Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves. (Gen 3:7)
We can gather at that coffee shop you love
and after a currant scone and a second cup
I can say to you: I’ll be Adam, and you can be Eve
and we’ll run naked through the orchard free
We can relish our innocence fresh and unaware
as we pluck berries and sit sunlit, grass on skin
discovering again what our bodies are made for
and why we love being just ourselves so
I can follow a slick snake down the unbeaten path
and you can stop and listen to his cues and queries
we can follow him to the tree of knowing
and eat and slurp the juice from our lips and chins
Then we can know and know that we know
and we can cover up and blush and hide ourselves
from our true selves, from the holy within and without
we stumble and fall, lose the gate key and walk on
Later, when grace appears and envelops us
we give thanks that we failed
and knowing we failed, we celebrate becoming,
the letting go of having been
Next morning we rise and walk out fully dressed
we gather at the café, smiling at our hidden nude selves
and I say to you: I’ll be Adam, and you can be Eve
and you nod and sip and off we go into the day
Airstream
Lent 2 A
John 3:1–17
The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit. (John 3:8)
Be born of wind and water said the Teacher in the night
be new and swim and soar in the mystery of God now
so Nick polished his Airstream, took it out on the road
from Palo Duro Canyon to Big Bend and beyond
he deleted entries in his Google calendar, went offline
checked off incomplete tasks on his lists driving free
stopping where ever it seemed the flow was flowing
encountering strangers with deep pools of eyes
from time to time someone on the roadside
needed a tire change or a gallon of gas so he stopped
occasionally he met someone at a Waffle House
who sat alone, struck up a conversation, paid the tab
once he met a woman with a thin three-year old and
gave her a year’s worth of grocery money just like that
then he stopped and stayed a while in Death Valley heat
drank mango iced tea, absorbed desert wisdom like the sun
