Make Room

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Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

In the sixth month Gabriel the messenger was sent by the Holy One to a hamlet in Galilee called Nazareth, to a young girl engaged to a man named Joseph, of the house of David. The girl’s name was Mary.  Luke 1:26-27

Seeker,
Who awaits you in these greatly troubled times?

How do we make room
for hope in the gloom,
and peace to smooth the way in the dealings of our day?

How do we give voice
to understanding and compassion
where heartlessness is always in fashion?

Will you attend that age-old parable
of messengers from the heavens
and signs in starry skies;

of wisdom setting out to meet humility;
and a maid who made room
for unimagined possibility;

of a refugee-God,
brought to birth in poverty,
and swaddled in squalor;

of a liberator nestled amid beasts of burden
in an occupied land,
and hope hosted by a wandering shepherd band?

Will you re-tell that ancient teaching tale,
of flight in the night
from lustful power

that fears the vulnerable,
and dreads the promised restoration
which is most surely coming?

And might you make space
for contemporary connections,
and parallel parables;

of unlikely welcomes and unsettling visitations
of fear and flight, of hearts roomy and ready,
and promise wrapped in powerlessness?

The gift of greatest efficacy and power that we can offer God and creation is not our skills, gifts, abilities, and possessions. Mary offered only space, love, belief.  Loretta Ross-Gotta

The work of Advent consists of this: make room!
Attune your heart to hope, long-expected
by hungry souls and broken lives.

Clear the clutter, quiet the noise,
turn off the soundtrack,
douse the twinkling lights.

Put away your lists and listen
to cries from the earth
that break the heart of the universe.

Set aside presents to be present.
Leave behind plastic pretense
to stand beneath the sky and ponder the Maker of a trillion galaxies,

who cares yet for the smallest places,
and seeks out the dark recesses,
bearing the gift of tenuous new life.

For into each unfolding moment
with or without us, the Christ arrives,
looking only for room and readiness.

Let us not be lost
to the cancer of consumption,
or adrift in self-fulfilling dreams of doom,

or decorated by distraction,
and driven by the appetite for acquisition,
dismissing the catastrophe playing out before our misted eyes.

All we need, to embody this Christ-becoming
is space, in humble, generous hearts
and spirits ripe and willing.

A message of hope sent to enlighten distress.
A promise of peace meant for conflict-torn places.
For Christ becomes flesh in the midst of our mess.

As water sinks to the lowest point and love finds the sorest soul,
Christ seeks out the broken,
bringing to birth restoration that makes the wounded whole.

The slimmest hope is hopeful still.
The slightest flicker glimmers for all.
As earth from darkness rolls away, will you re-turn your life today
to reflect the new light coming?

joe

A Fuller Flock

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Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

As he went ashore, he saw an immense crowd; and he was deeply moved with compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.  Mark 6:34

Seeker,
Who restores your trust in the kindness of humankind?

Listen, learn, be led!
This is how we come to know
who to love, how to serve, and as a faithful flock be fed.

On the crosswalk
I saw him
step right in front of me.

Head bent, as in prayer,
dark-hooded, ebony-faced,
bravely he flashed a look.

In one eternal instant
brown eyes met grey,
and what might be menacing appeared monastic.

I’m not a statistic
I’m not the inches in somebody’s column…
I am at odds with all that requires me to be a symbol.
I insist on being real.  Kathy Galloway

Fear breeds mistrust,
presenting parasitic opportunities
to make some predators and others prey.

How many of your younger sisters and brothers
are daily endangered in predatory cities?
How much life is threatened by soulless predation?

And who will tend such troubled souls,
and attend to lives without opportunity or refuge?
Who cares for the trafficked, fragmented flock of the Holy One?

Beware pastoral pretenders, trapped in trappings,
who wield authority by blaming and shaming,
lambasting the lost, ignoring the wounded.

We too become predators
when we allow diabolical dread and rapacious greed
to divide us and lead us astray.

The Holy One is my shepherd, I shall not want. Psalm 23:1

Engaging deeper expectations, prophetic people meet rejection.
Persecuted by the presumptive powers they threaten,
they are caricatured as wolves.

Such prophets are not people ahead of their time.
They are simply single-hearted souls
who have penetrated the signs of these times.

Called in crisis,
they sound alarms with urgency,
but only because there is much to be alarmed about.

How can modern Christianity have so solemnly folded its hands while so much of the work of God was and is being destroyed? Wendell Berry

Focused by the lens of faith,
their surgical critique illuminates what is not,
to highlight what and who we might become.

Prophetic people are truth-dwellers.
Gathering the scattered, they refuse to inhabit the gloom
by choosing to walk together toward what can and will be.

With the medicine of mercy
they brew a tonic of hope
and begin to rebuild what has been ruined.

May you embrace every prophetic opportunity
afforded you this day
to be folded back into this fuller flock.

One light; many candles.
One sky; many stars.
One sea; many rivers.
One Love; many hearts. Noel Paul Stookey

joe