In Unburied Alleluias, poetic theologian Jill Crainshaw gathers poems and liturgical reflections that listen for hope beneath grief and the unfinished work of justice. These lyrical pieces invite readers to the spiral edges of faith—places where silence speaks, lament becomes prayer, and buried alleluias slowly rise again.
A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse. (Isaiah 11:1)
In a season when tidy visions of peace can feel distant from real grief and fracture, this prayer seeks a more honest Advent hope.
God of Unlikely Beginnings,
The haze of snow globe panoramas
taunts our eyes-
wolves and lambs napping together;
calf and lion—
wild and domestic—
kicking up their heels in shared fields;
cows and bears nose to nose
munching grass honeyed by morning dew;
a baby in a manger?
kings bowing down in a barn
while sheep chew their cud?
Where amid the arrogant snarls
of a carnivorous world
do such wise ones dwell?
Guide us, God-child,
to your Advent arboretum.
Teach us how to refute
the death-dealing certainties of the axe.
Touch with your healing hand
what is raw, neglected,
discarded, dying in our souls.
Untame our spirits.
Stir undomesticated courage
in inner wasteland places.
Cultivate within our hearts
your improbable peace
Amen.
Salt: Seasoned Theology 