10.03.2012

Caveat Emptor

God said,
“Eat from the tree and
you will be separated from Me.”

The serpent said,
“You and Him will not be strangers.
There is no danger.
Eat from the tree and
you will be an image of God.”

And the greatest con job on Man
was a done deal.

Selling to someone
a perfect, precious thing
that they already possessed.

9.26.2012

God doesn’t do Legal

When creating our part of the universe,
You spoke and it appeared.

Except for us -
You personally formed
and breathed life into us
using Yourself as the blueprint.

Then what is so strange to some
You didn’t patent us.
You gave us the code.
An open source of
just four proteins -
A and T
C and G.

And we began
to recreate and multiply.
No one exactly like You.
No one exactly like anyone else.

So we copyrighted ourselves
into separate tribes, nations and religions.
And You were transformed into a legend.

So to erase the ©
from the end of Your name,
You sent your Son
to tell us to remove
the labels we place on
God,
ourselves,
and
others
and to start living the abundant life
You always had wanted for us.

8.18.2012

God Is In The Roses

Artist:  Rosanne Cash
Link to song
Album: Black Cadillac

God is in the roses
The petals and the thorns
Storms out on the oceans
The souls who will be born
And every drop of rain that falls
Falls for those who mourn
God is in the roses and the thorns

The sun is on the cemetery
Leaves are on the stones
There never was a place on earth
That felt so much like home
We're falling like the velvet petals
We're bleeding and we're torn
But God is in the roses and the thorns

I love you like a brother
A father and a son
It may not last forever and ever
But it never will be done
My whole world fits inside the moment
I saw you be reborn
God is in the roses
And that day was filled with roses
God is in the roses and the thorns

The Only Journey -M Morford


Sometimes I spend too much
And enjoy it too little,
And find myself with people
Who remind me who I never was
And I wonder what it takes
To find my own people
And walk my own way,
And I remember the term ‘spiritual path’
And wonder how I could ever believe
That I would walk a well-worn trail
And it would take me anywhere
Never explored, or left behind by others.
It’s a ‘spiritual journey’ I’m on
One never traveled before,
Never to be followed
And with an end beyond my knowing.

It’s a journey like no other;
With no final destination,
At least in the usual sense.
My guide posts may never be yours,
And your burdens might seem light,
Or unbearably heavy to me,
But they are never mine,
And I’ll never know the weight you carry in silence.

And our journeys end
With work undone,
Words unsaid,
And dreams abandoned
Like a stranger’s lost baggage.

We usually imagine
That the spiritual journey ends
When the physical one does
And it might,
But I’ve seen too many people
Stop growing in their souls.
Their spiritual vital signs flat-lined years ago,
But they keep breathing
And talk as if they have nothing left to learn
And I know there is nothing more dead
Than the one who keeps talking
When he has nothing left to say.

Communion

John 6:53-56
53 Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat
the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. 54 Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.
55 For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink.
56 Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me,
and I in them.


Isaiah 55:2 (KJV)
… [L]et your soul delight itself in fatness.
Communion

The meal of bread and wine
transformed into
His body and blood
which changes us
from sinners to saints.


And we wonder
which is the bigger miracle:
Eating the flesh of Christ?
or
The Fallen are redeemed?

8.11.2012

Prayer of Ruth

Lord,
In the midst of this ruthless world
we live in:

Help us bond with the disconsolate Naomi.

Hear our prayers for the homeward bound Orpah.

Bless today’s gleaning
so it is enough for our daily bread.

And may we never forget
our eternal kinsman-redeemer.
Amen.

Like Father, Like Son (Family Tradition)

Exodus 16/John 6:1-15; 22-42

Just like His Dad did
in the wilderness,
Out of love and compassion
The Son fed the people.

And just like His Dad did
in the wilderness.
The food came out of nothing
and from nowhere.

In the wilderness,
The Father’s manna was only good
for the day.
And all that was left of the Son’s meal
were baskets of bones and crumbs.

And just like His Dad
The Son learned as well
Miracles don’t generate faith
They get requests for encores.

“More food!”
The Chosen complained.
“More miracles!”
The Gentiles pleaded.

So the holy kitchens shut their doors.
The Select wandered around
Searching for the Land of Milk and Honey.
And the World wonders about
the Bread which satisfies every hunger.

Ruth 3:5

All that thou sayest unto me I will do.
Ruth 3:5


The story's strange.
For once, God wasn't talking,
Busy with some sacrifice or slaughter
Somewhere else. No plague, cloud, gushing water,
Dream, omen, whirlwind. Just two women, walking
The dusty road from Moab to Judea,
One, the younger, having told the other
(Not her own, but her dead husband's mother)
That she would never leave her. But they flee a
Famine for what, at first, seems something worse:
To come as widows to a crowded city,
To men’s appraising stares, and women’s pity.
Ruth, the pagan, heard Naomi curse,
Cringed and scanned the sky. No fire or stone
Came crashing downward. They were on their own.
Catherine Tufariello’s No Angel

Boaz Asleep

Boaz, overcome with weariness, by torchlight
made his pallet on the threshing floor
where all day he had worked, and now he slept
among the bushels of threshed wheat.

The old man owned wheatfields and barley,
and though he was rich, he was still fair-minded.
No filth soured the sweetness of his well.
No hot iron of torture whitened in his forge.

His beard was silver as a brook in April.
He bound sheaves without the strain of hate
or envy. He saw gleaners pass, and said,
Let handfuls of the fat ears fall to them.

The man's mind, clear of untoward feeling,
clothed itself in candor. He wore clean robes.
His heaped granaries spilled over always
toward the poor, no less than public fountains.

Boaz did well by his workers and by kinsmen.
He was generous, and moderate. Women held him
worthier than younger men, for youth is handsome,
but to him in his old age came greatness.

An old man, nearing his first source, may find
the timelessness beyond times of trouble.
And though fire burned in young men's eyes,
to Ruth the eyes of Boaz shone clear light.
**Victor Hugo (translator unknown)

What a Wonderful World

(Genesis 1)

The noise of the animals is a low roar.
The waves continually kissing the shore.
The breezes making the trees dance.
The humans are inventing romance.
There’s no such thing as zombies.
Creation is a just a big ole party.


The light of the stars are set on low.
The night creatures come late to the show.
The birds are singing with Eve.
God looks at all He achieved.
That’s the first Saturday night story.
Creation is a just a big ole party.

Asher Yatzar / Blessing for the Body

(Blessing upon going to the bathroom.)

Blessed are You, Adonai, source of all being,
who formed the human body with wisdom
and created within us various openings and closings.

It is known before Your throne of glory
that if one of these were to be open where it should be closed,
or closed where it should be opened,
we would not be able to stand before You and offer praise.

Blessed are You, Adonai,
healer of all flesh and worker of miracles!


Found at: Velveteen Rabbi

Percy Speaks While I am Doing Taxes

First of all, I do not want to be doing this.


Second of all, Percy does not want me
to be doing this.

Hanging over my desk like a besieged person
with a dull pencil and innumerable lists of numbers.

Outside the water is blue, the sky is clear,
the tide rising.


Percy, I say, this has to be done. This is essential.
I'll be finished eventually.


Keep me in your thoughts, he replies.
Just because
I can't count to ten doesn't mean
I don't remember yesterday, or anticipate today.

I give you one more hour, then we step out
into the beautiful, money-deaf gift of the world
and run.


**Mary Oliver

Kindling

By Susan Osborn

If I am deaf and cannot hear
And if I am blind and cannot see
If I am mute and cannot speak
If all of my senses are numb and dull
Will I be saved?

Is the soul impoverished in any way?
Or does the utter silence ring
with the Truth?
Does Love care
what the words are
that lead us home?