Approaching the altar, But turning instead to the east,
Moving in the other direction,
Bending our torsos and spirits
Toward unseen light, trusting
One we can't ever know or even face;
A King's history, a long arc,
Bending, tilting, seeking
Somethiing like shalom,
Something like justice and jubilee,
Something like Love's Feast;
Is it possible, is it foolish, is it ours
To walk the bendiing, tilting road
Before us, together,
With prophets of old like Rosa and Pauli,
With today's practitioners of satyagraha and love,
With siblings whose own tatoos cry mercy,
Stained glass before our eyes?What if the altar here is not at all
Our destination, but a kind of 'kyrie eleison',
A kyrie eleison to keep us turning
On the wheel, circling with sisters, brothers,
Sworn enemies, holy friends,
Leaning into the arc that is
Jesus' 'agape' and Gandhi's 'ahimsa'
And the No-Thing that is Every-Thing?
O guide our weary, funky, faithful feet:
Along the ridges of possibility and mercy,
As this labyrinth unwinds a newness
That is our one true home.
2 December 2024
Deep Advent
