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Blessed are they who put their trust in God.

Here we are, again, waiting
not for that child in the manger
we’ve already done the nativity
the visit with the magi
the finding in the temple
the laying in the tomb
the rising from the dead
it's the eschaton we are waiting for
our psalmist counsels trust

this is not an empty gesture
though many have counted it so
myself included
if I’m honest.

if God gave victories in the past
if the resurrection isn’t bullshit
then the eschaton will come

let it come now, o god
in our hearts
while we wait

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To the God of heaven give thanks ; * for his love endures forever.

The antiphon at the last minute proclaims
To the God of heaven give thanks ;
He set us free from our foes.

You did this…
You vanquished our enemies
You slew their Kings
You laid them bare

Let the crops grow
Let rain fall
Let the sea recede into its ancient bounds.

Let peace reign in our walls
Let peace reign in our hearts
Let foemen have peace.

Open the gates of our hearts, lord
Show us the way

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Stand up and come to our help! * Redeem us because of your love!

The Psalm this morning
is run through with nostalgia
remember when you loved us
when you drove our enemies aside
of course now, we appear to be less coddled
loved, protected
we wither before you
while we claim unbroken fidelity

I long for that redemption
that long ago psalmist bandied about

but I know myself
to be impious and broken

something has to change
nostalgia cannot save

open a door
let us leave the armies at home.

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Look away that I may breathe again ; * before I depart to be no more.

in the midst of life
we are in death
like a thriving terrarium

standing on the threshold
from breath to breath
I wait

Grant us your grace
that we may trust

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I was stupid and did not understand, * no better than a beast in your sight.
Yet I was always in your presence ; * you were holding me by my right hand.

One of the most forbidden of words
in the playground
yet there it is
and true

it stings a bit
if I’m honest

for the rest
we try to trust
that it is also true

give us grateful,
generous, and
courageous hearts
to meet the day.

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Be strong, let your heart take courage. * all who hope in the Lord.

We come again to hope
provoke us into hope, Lord
hope for ourselves and hope for all of your people
let no one be forsaken

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For you save a humble people * but humble the eyes that are proud

Save a humble people, Lord
yes in your justice
but save even the proud
in your mercy

reveal in us your compassion
let it run through all
your daughters
and your sons
may your people
rejoice in peace

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On the Feast of St. Cecilia

The Lord of hosts is with us : * the God of Jacob is our stronghold.

My own words, today
did not fly,
so i cribbed this from St. Augustine :

If words will not serve, and yet you must not remain silent,
what else can you do but cry out for joy?

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In your house I am a passing guest—a pilgrim, like all my forebears.

perhaps an extravagant personal claim,
pilgrim
but the passing guest part
is undeniable
however often I may turn my face from it
can I really take up the call

here in this moment
is there something real I can do

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Your love is for justice ; your hatred for evil.

Do we know this justice
that you love
in ourselves or
in our world
What is just

lead us to recognize just deeds
I’ll leave the hatred to you, Lord
i don’t understand evil
though i think i might recognize it
and hatred, it’s just too ready
to make itself
at home in my heart

show me the way

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‘I am fár remóved from your síght’ * I sáid in my alárm.
Yet you héard the vóice of my pléa * when I críed for hélp.

I hear, this morning,
in these lines
a faithfulness,
a trust, and trustworthiness
a nostalgia for better times
it seems ungracious to quibble
did you hear

I’m convicted by ingratitude
is this privilege, or a kind of privation
where do I go

help me hear the cry of my neighbor—
my own call
which we make to you
of a morning

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You may mock the hope of the poor, * but their refuge is the Lord.

I am blind to the lives of the poor
open my heart, my eyes to sea their joys
and sorrow
rejoicing with them as sisters and brothers
in Christ there is no slave or free ;
rich or poor
here we live awash in poverty and fortune

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I love you, Lord, my strength, * My rock, my fortress, my savior.

Of course, I’d love to love you, Lord
but I lay myself bare before you, empty
of love, of emotion, of motive

Look with mercy on your servant
I hurtled through the psalms today unheedful
of words I’ve read before, words I got wrong
not for the first time, hurrying along

Just to be surprised by Augustine
and then that warning, beware
of those claiming, “I am he”
because? Well, they aren’t, are they?

Have mercy on your unloving servants
and me a minor sinner in a cold dark morning.

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O Lord, our God unwearied is your love for us.

I come before you tonight hoping
neither the Pharisee nor the Tax collector
Just myself,
more emptied than I might know
More distracted, more in hiding.
Hold on to me, Lord,
in your strong embrace,
even though I’m sure to squirm.
Receive me into your presence
Help me to long for you
as you reveal yourself
waiting
here

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I’m going to begin a modest engagement with the Christian practice of Lectio Divina. I recite the Office of Readings most, but not all, mornings, so I plan to snag a line from the daily Psalter. It might be the image that opens the gate for some insight or, just as likely, the one that shuts me down. I’ll try to give myself a chance to unpack the afterimage of that moment : why it became a stumbling block or the turning point of the morning.

Some days the words may fly ; other days they simply won’t. It’ll be ok.