A New Threshold at DrDeacondog.com

I’ve long believed that silence can speak.
That justice can unfold in contemplative realms.
That theology can be made not only with words and books
but with breath, bread, and bone.

Over the past few months, I’ve been reshaping drdeacondog.com, listening for how to let it hold the fullness of what I now understand my work to be at this time in my life and vocation.

As a professor in her 60s with over 25 years of experience in theological education, I have begun to embody my work as a poetic theologian.

Neither word in this pair is new. Even their partnership dances in ballrooms with other artists, theologians, and leaders.

What is new is my energy for embracing the pair in my work and life.

Poetic theology is the practice of attending to theological questions not only with the mind, but with breath, body, metaphor, and silence.

In the ancient sacred book of Proverbs, we glimpse Woman Wisdom calling out from the threshold of her house. Down the street, another woman stands at her threshold, named in the text as “the strange woman.” My threshold as a poetic theologian emerges somewhere between these two figures as a place where I listen beyond texts and words for beauty and truths that reside in quiet, less-seen, less-acknowledged spaces.

Today, I’m relaunching DrDeacondog.com, not as a platform but as a threshold, a space for reflection, creative engagement, and communal accompaniment.

At this threshold, you’ll find:

  • A page that introduces poetic theology as a way of being and writing
  • A curated section of featured projects and essays
  • An archive of seasonal reflections and poems (with more to come)
  • A vision for the months ahead, including a forthcoming book and workshop offerings

I invite you to visit, read, and pause.

And if something you find there resonates, I hope you’ll stay awhile so we can listen together.

With gratitude,

Jill

Breaking

This poem emerged as I thought about news stories and headlines I encountered last week (April 3-9, 2016).  Many other things also happened, but those referenced in the poem capture some of my ambivalence and worry about how we imagine and talk about life today. The poem also celebrates the ways people “walk on” through and in spite and in the face of life-denying headlines. Note: Doris Day’s dog is named “Squirrely.”

They gave up the ghost this week.
No more walking dead

for now

except the comatose American economy or is it “finally waking up”?
My neighbor with the zombie car battery
who can’t get her to her minimum wage, 25 hours a week job
four miles away
doesn’t think so.

And Apple? showing its age “maturing”

while Doris Day
“turns 92, shows adorable pic with her puppy”
Squirrely

Meanwhile
Alabama governor’s future “looks bleaker”
Cruz and Sanders celebrate in Wisconsin
Mississippi protects “sincerely held religious beliefs”
Pay Pal decides not to login to North Carolina
Tennessee designates the “Holy Bible
as the official state book.”

Newsfeeds are push-back-from-the table full
while “Conflict in Eastern Ukraine leaves 1.5. million people hungry.”
Perhaps Tennessee will feed them now?
“If you offer your food to the hungry. . .”

Breaking news
Breaking into homes
Breaking onto shores
Breaking out
Just breaking
hearts
spirits
dreams
lives

But mere clicks away from Flipboard and the front page
a mama puts a Hello Kitty band aid on a skinned knee
a large hand holds a small hand as first steps are taken
a young man breaks bread with a grieving grandma
Bailey learns to ride a bike
and Chris says no to the bathroom bully.

Season finale: walking dead
It’s time, don’t you think?
to walk
away from the headlines
for a little while anyway
one foot in front of the other
alive. Finally.