Advent 1: Longing

Waxing Eloquent

In my church this Sunday, we will begin the Advent season by hearing biblical texts crafted by writers who longed for God’s presence. The Gospel text for the first Sunday in Advent this year, Luke 21:25-36, speaks of “distress among the nations.” Jeremiah imagines justice, righteousness, and safety in hurting lands (33:14-16). These texts speak to us across the years with great urgency. Almost daily in my newsfeed, I read of distress among nations and peoples, and along with Jeremiah I imagine—hope for—justice and safety for people whose fearful eyes search the skies not for stars but for bombs. So the season of Advent begins–with too many people across the globe seeking refuge from the symbolic and literal “roaring of sea and waves” (Lk. 21:25). Advent begins.

Bright flames dance in the distance
somewhere on down the path.
We are eager for the light,
for toes warmed up
by a friendly fire
after walking
too many wintry miles.

But for now, one candle only,
an illuminating snippet
to see us through
until the spark catches and the fire grows.

God of First Light,
Stir in us a yearning
to hear with gentle ears
the stories of others
who stumble with us
upon this just-lit Advent fire.

Send to us for these dim days
flashes of insight.
Light a new torch
to animate humanity’s treacherous search
for this thing we call truth.

Keep us from harboring
evidence of things not seen
in the limited glow of a single flame.
Arouse longing for wisdom and beauty
that await recognition
beyond the boundaries of what we can see
in the partial light of our mind’s eye.

If anything about this old world is to end in fire,
let it be our hatred and fear
that are burned away in the weeks ahead
as Advent’s blaze sparks and intensifies,
magnifies
provokes and inflames
peace on earth,
goodwill to all people.

 

 

Holding Kindness: In Memory of W.C.

“Let the beauty of the Lord be upon us and prosper for us the work of our hands.”
Psalm 90

Hands.
Kindness dwells in some people’s hands.
He and I shared few conversations.
No matter.
Words fade over time,
ink evaporating off of impermanent paper.
Hands leave gift-marks that linger
And kindness lived in his hands.

You could see it in them.
They were strong.
Nimble-strong
and wise.
Playful too, sometimes.
Hands trusted
by puppies
and people
and plants that welcomed their touch.

How beautiful,
those calloused fingers
so accustomed to the soil’s shifting seasons.
Prickly cucumbers,
delectable tomatoes
and feast-famous green beans,
all coaxed from the earth
and offered with a generous spirit
to family and friends.

Kindness lived in his hands
and those fingerprints are etched forever
on loved ones’ souls
who laugh
and weep
and remember.

The hands of a fisherman
hands of a carpenter
hands of a gardener
hands of a husband and father and grandfather
brother and uncle and friend.
Wise hands
Caring
grace-filled
hands. In his hands,
we glimpsed
the hands of God.

Let your beauty be yet upon us, O God, and prosper for us the work of our hands.