Along The Way

At the tomb they told us he was not there,
That he was ‘risen.’
But we saw him dead. How can that be?
They said to look for him in Galilee –
What is in Galilee? Why would he go there?
There’s nothing there but some poor slobs.
Galilee is peanuts. We’re in Jerusalem!
This is the center!
Certainly anything really earth-shaking should happen here!

Well, I suppose we might as well go.
We could always tell the believers in Galilee what has happened.
Maybe lend a hand there –
A lot of them don’t have two stones to rub together.
They could use a hand with the spring harvest.
And who knows who we might meet along the way?

The Empty Place

Photo Copyright and Credit: Ciril Jazbec

There is an empty place

Where we had left you

Where we thought to find you

No one we recognize is there

A hole in our hearts-

Is this what you did to us?

Leave us with a hole in our hearts?

There is an empty place -

How do we fill it?

The Crazy Lady and the Angel

On the section of the Berlin wall located near Battery Park City

The crazy lady and the angel
Stand on the wall

The crazy lady on the outside
The safe side
The ‘go about your business’ side
She wears bright colors
Her skin is green
Her lips are brilliant red
She is lively and creative

The angel is on the inside
Where people used to get killed just for walking
For running to freedom
She is harder to see
But she is there
Who painted her, and when?
Who saw her in those days?
Was she the last thing someone saw?
Perhaps she was meant to comfort, to mourn, and not be consoled
To commemorate children, brothers and sisters, parents, friends, cousins lost

Perhaps that was her purpose
Certainly she does that now
Now that she no longer stands in the shadow of machine guns and barbed wire
Now that she is a curiosity, and a memorial

And it strikes me that life is like this
There is the wild and crazy ‘go about your business’ side
And the serious side
The side of life and death
where people struggle for life and freedom
Where angels stand close to comfort and assist us

It is good to be bright, lively and creative
But let us also be strong and helpful
And stand to help those who struggle for life and freedom

O Lord of Life and Death

O Lord of Life and Death
We thank you for the saints
Who left to us the word
And sang and taught and gave
And bled and suffered much

O Lord of Life and Death
Preserve the gifts they gave
Tend the light of the saints
For those yet to be born
Who will have much to learn

O Lord of Life and Death
Help us to remember
Those who went before us
All that they did for us
And all that they were and are


LE

Downspout

Rain comes down
Not every day
But it does come
Sometimes more often than I might like

And under my downspout
I have a watering can
Because when it isn't raining
A very small person likes to wander the yard
Blessing the flowers with water

And in this way
I keep water handy for her
To help her in her mission
And help make the world more beautiful
One drop at a time

May all of our dark rainy days
And all of our sadness
Be similarly transformed into moments
Of sharing and joy

Blessings
LE

Good Grief

'Good Grief' seems to be a catchword for me lately. This piece is inspired by the passing of a great man, who we mourn. Certainly this is 'good grief'; to remember and miss those who have gone on to their reward, to honor their place with us, and share our memories:

They push off from here most every day
And for the farther shore
The saints sail onward to the place
Where head those Christ adores
The journey there is not so long
The river is not wide
They do not suffer on the trip
To Jordan’s other side

We wish them peace
And pray their souls
Into our Maker’s care
We will miss their presence here
And the all they used to share
A goodly crew sets off each day
From ports around the globe
To take up crowns and find their place
Beneath God’s mighty robe

We miss them all, so very much
And this grief is good.
Our lives are short and worth a lot
In death it’s understood.
So shed your tears and hold your friends
As tightly as you may
Because this world is not a place
That we may always stay.

And wait for joy, for it will come
Least on the other side
When all our hard day’s work is done
And we with the saints abide.
And there with our beloved saints
We’ll see the Lamb upraised
And cast our crowns upon the ground
May Jesus Christ be praised!

For Frank, and the great company of all the saints,

LE

In Our Furry Cousins

I heard a strange cry this morning;
An insistent cry;
A mournful, catbird-like cry;
It was a young squirrel, sitting on a branch,
Calling to her mortally wounded brother;
Who crouched, groggy with his injuries;
In the middle of the road.

I was able to get the little wounded animal into a box;
With shredded paper in the bottom for litter;
But it rapidly expired.

There was little I could do for our little brother;
With his wonderful fluffy tail;
And his soft creamy underbelly;
His clever paws, and his bright eyes;

I have prayed that God will accept his little soul;
Into God’s everlasting garden;
Where the trees are full of nuts and fruit;
And the ground is soft and forgiving;

And I also pray for the little lonely girl-squirrel;
Whose brother was taken from her so early;
And whom she so clearly mourned.

Something of the unifying life,
Something of God;
Dwells in these our furry cousins;
Our ability to love did not spring from nothing,
But grew, evolved from the little loves of creatures like these.

Somewhere in our ancestral tree,
Dwelt elders not unlike these;
Little lives and little souls;
Who lived, and loved, and leapt;
And who knew what it is to mourn.



Brother Squirrel was laid to rest near his family
beneath the giant oak tree where he lived.

Outrageous Easter

In my dream we were planning the funeral of a good friend, someone we loved a lot.

We were just getting started, gathering around a large table.

Family and friends were there, and around the table there were several who did not feel wlecome, or worthy to sit, and we were encouraging them to do so.

There was room for all.

And once we settled, and had started discussing, we realized a funny man was behind us...
...painting huge Easter eggs on the picture window that was there.

Even funnier, he didn't paint from his imagination, which you might think he would with such a simple subject. Instead, he had a friend who was arranging and holding large colorful Easter eggs so that he could paint them 'from life', draping fabric about them, and positioning them just so.

We talked about the two of them, and thought they were just a bit crazy.

But upon waking, I am not so sure.

In your times of mourning may you find moments of outrageous Easter.

LE

Care of the Dead

We honor and care for our departed in many ways.

Some of what we do is profoundly practical;

-collection of bodies by families and health workers;

-cleaning, preservation, and clothing or wrapping of bodies so they can be neatly managed;

-documenting and displaying of bodies so that those who had dealings with the departed can know that they are truly dead;

-final disposition of bodies that prevent them from becoming food for hazardous beasts or disease-spreading vermin.

And these are practical, sensible steps that humans execute to properly manage the dead in almost every culture, and which we have done since the days of the Neanderthals.

These tasks have also a 'ritual feel' to them, a depth. I think that few can care for the dead without being moved. Like children, or the very ill, the dead cannot care for themselves. They will not complain. They have no words, arguments, or expression any more. What filled them and gave them life is gone.

So we care for them. Sometimes we can express things to the dead we could not, cannot, to the living.

The dead do not judge.

The dead do not get angry.

The dead wait on us, and on God.

So we care for their mortal shell;

We place pictures, reminders, and little offerings;

...Where they died,
...Where they are buried,
...At memorials,
...In our workplaces,
...In our homes,
...In our lives

The dead cannot use these things.

The dead don't need flowers or sea shells,
Pebbles or crosses,
Candles or pictures

But we do.

We living, need to remember;

This one was, and is no more
This one lived
This one loved and was loved

This was one of us.


-for Boomer, and all our loved ones

Muddy, Floody Happiness

This was a tough week for many.
Murder, religious hatred and flooding darkened it.

On my daily commute, I have seen the tragedy of the flooding first hand, with some houses struggling to keep their roofs above water.

And with the rain continuing into the week, the flooding persisted, only slowly subsiding as the rains lessened.

In one community, the locals used small rowboats to get to the raised railbed, and then walked along the rails to get to town.

But on Friday, the sun came out, and began the serious work of drying things up, and on my way home, I chanced to see a man, a resident of one of the flooded areas, rowing to the railbed with his golden retriever in the back of his boat.

And that dog was just as happy as a dog could be, waving his tail, and lifting his nose to sniff all the different muddy, floody smells. You could tell that for him, this was a great and exciting day.

And I pray we may all find moments of joy in our lives, even in the dark bits.