A Gospel of Birth and Life

Joseph’s song: Langlauf

As I
push this
weight on
one ski
and other,

as I
haul this
weight on
one pole
and other
I’m thinking,

the week we left we told our friends over supper,
‘the thing with langlauf is it doesn’t have to be tiring, you can just shuffle along’.

We said that,
thought that
to convince ourselves
that if they just understood they’d all join us.

But that’s not possible.
On this icy plateau
there’s a loip no-one else can follow:
we‘re alone with a question
for tomorrow and tomorrow.

Now the land is an empty page,
the sky a blank monitor;
I turn, you’re asleep on the sleigh;
oh, the sun seems to rest on your shoulder!

Mary, I know it is you who carries the weight
but I am struggling for faith.
The angel never spoke to me
and my fear has become so solitary.

2007

Mary’s song: Quilt

We’ll reach the town tonight,

but tomorrow, Joe, I don’t know

what we’ll say about the baby.

For months we stitched a strange

fabric with unspoken promises.

I’ll pull that quilt up tightly.

I cannot explain what is beneath;

if not for your loyalty to my instinct,

we would have divorced, quietly.

Tonight, when you cannot sleep,

rest your hand upon my belly,

look up at the pinpricks in the sky,

those fiery stitches, promises

of our eternity.

2010.

Joseph and Mary’s Song: Our Baby

Who will you be our baby?

Will your face fill up every minute, (more…)

The Magi (Caspar)

By 1973, our search for one more manifestation of divine mystery had taken us to the Mousetrap Bar on Cocoa Beach, Florida.  We were hoping to find men of the right stuff in there, and, sure enough, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were chatting at the bar, whilst Michael Collins – who did not step onto the Moon but went around to the other side, coming back a day later to pick Neil and Buzz up off that pure, pristine landscape – was heading to the restroom.

We three went over to explain that in ancient days our rain-beaten faces had traversed field and fountain, moor and mountain, then looked down adoringly upon […]. Buzz slammed his glass down on the counter: “Okay, wise guys, are you trying to tell me that back in first century Palestine, you and your camels calculated the position and transit of a star relative to a stable? Get out of here!”

“Yes, we are!” I replied, “And let me tell you, back in our day yours would have seemed a tall story indeed, claiming you were up on the Moon, collecting rocks, driving a ‘lunar buggy’, playing golf!”

He fixed me with a glare and I remembered reading he had once punched somebody who said the landings were faked; instead, he was distracted by a television in the corner of the bar: naked Vietnamese children ran from their burning homes. “What use was your gold to honour Kingship, Caspar?”, he grimaced, “Was Herod any worse than this?  And you, Balthazar, you must have used up all your myrrh in embalming long, long ago”.

“But Buzz”, I cried, “You were a believer, taking communion side by side with Neil in that capsule, adjusting helmets, taking those giant stiff steps for humanity”. “But falling back through the blue depths of the sky”, interrupted Neil, “returned to an Earth of hatred and lies, like you three Magi, we remain disappointed, unsatisfied.”.

Michael Collins came over and led us all outside. He pointed up at a star and described the elemental mystery that birthed each one of us from oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium and phosphorous.  And Melchior, who has never given up his belief that God is nigh in acts of human kindness, swung his frankincense around us and smiled at the turbulent Calvary and the uncontrollable majesty that shall remain in each one of us.

 2024.

In the beginning was the Word (The Gospel of John).

(1-5) In the beginning was the Word. And there was doubt. The Word was with God.  And so was doubt. Together, they were God. Without doubt and the Word nothing could have been made.  God’s Word is light and life, God’s doubt is darkness and death.  There must be darkness for there to be light, there must be death for there to be life, and God’s Word cannot be comprehended by us unless there is doubt.

(6-9) There was a serpent called Satan who knew of God’s doubt. He angered God because he told the world about God’s darkness so that all might doubt and question God.  Satan is not the darkness, but he is a prince of that darkness which is, even now, still coming into the world.

(10-13) Doubt and the Word have been in the world since it was made, yet many have tried to refuse one of them.  Those who receive God’s Word and accept God’s doubt are able to dwell in the light and the darkness; they know they are eternal sons and daughters of God yet also mortal children of flesh and blood.

(14-16) So, doubt and the Word appear in human form and dwell on earth, but not as one gloriously complete son or daughter of God – it is a fullness shared amongst all those who know and question God.  John the Baptist bore witness to them when he cried, “You brood of vipers, who told you about God’s anger?”

(18,17) No-one has ever fully seen God. The law was given by Moses, grace and truth were revealed in the life of Jesus Christ; but those sons and daughters who dwell in the light and the darkness, who have received God’s Word and share in God’s doubt, they are the ones who have made God known.

2018.

A Beheading

1. John the Baptist instructs his zealots (Matthew 11: 2-3)

Clap your hands and stamp your feet,

run quickly from this prison,

for in this captivity

my hope is arisen.

Don’t cry out to the desert

or weep into the Jordan,

find Jesus of Nazareth –

my hope and my cousin.

Ask my cousin if he fasts,

listen well to what he says:

if he and his disciples fast

ignore what he says

but return to the Jordan,

remain in our wilderness,

wait for a true Son of Man

who will bloody the winepress.

But if he does not fast:

his disciples are well-fed,

the sick healed, demons cast,

if he raises the dead

then clap your hands and stamp your feet,

and hurry to this prison

to sing my psalms that speak

of sin and retribution.

We’ll chant the song of Isaiah,

shout stories of Elijah:

the mighty lion of Judah

will judge the wolf and viper –

for Herod married Herodias

ere her husband’s bones were cold,

his niece Salome shakes her hips

at princes for whom she is sold –

the fork of the anointed Messiah

will rake through the granary

and throw Herodias on the fire,

so she’ll burn with Salome;

I see my Lord’s mighty axe

clap down on Herod’s neck,

he drags the princes from the court,

stamps them through the winepress.

So now you run and ask him,

be wise and clear of thought:

is he but a man who fasts

or a lion who does not?

2. Jesus hears the news of the death of John the Baptist (Mathew 14: 12-13)

Oh Salome, Herod piped and you danced on Persian carpets,

saving your mother’s name by reeling in daddy’s stares;

on Minoan silver you received the head of a prophet;

yet I would lie beside you and leave you my cares.

John, I wail but no one comes to mourn your death.

You dined alone on locusts in the wilderness –

now your head’s passed round like wine at a banquet.

Blood and honey drip down through my thoughts.

Mother, sing my name for me! Joseph, craft what I must do!

John was Elijah, calling for fire and ferocity,

but if I am now to do all that I would see through,

how I would use the measured steps of Salome!

3. Jesus hears the wisdom of Salome

Jesus, let’s be practical, we need to be political;

stories about both of us are circulating Judea –

it would serve you well to understand mine.

When my father died my mother Herodias

married my uncle Herod for our family’s future:

our position’s based on what we do for others,

if the Romans think we’ve lost control we’re out –

John the Baptist was turning people against us and,

outside of his wilderness, I’ve few places to go.

You’ve shown you can use sex as well as I can:

“I tell you he who looks lustfully on a woman

has committed adultery with her.”  Such words

will have the world kneeling for your forgiveness.

“Render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s”.  Jesus,

some day you or your followers will deal with Rome;

I’ve never made much claim to be a prophetess,

but let me say that I guess your kingdom’s progress

will necessitate far more beheadings than my own.

2008

Azazel speaks to Jesus in the wilderness

“I felt the blood upon my head,

wandered off without being led;

those who prayed, drew my lot,

said I was sin within the flock –

a goat to carry fear and dread,

so God could proffer quail and bread.

So, follow, lamb, where I have led,

crown of thorns upon your head;

sanctify your earnest flock

(sinful as Cain, foolish as Lot);

bless them for their fear and dread

with fish and wine and figs and bread.

Kings and queens bow their heads

and turn your body into bread

then magically, by drawing lots,

choose apostles, build their flocks

of people lost in fear and dread,

that wilderness – where once I led.”

2014

This body, this blood

I have not walked through Nazareth

as a king granting power and riches.

I have not put one of our enemies to flight,

made them bow to their wrongs and our rights,

nor saved our children from the darkest night.

I am not an angel –  I only healed some of them.

And I did not walk through Jerusalem

as the One who separates sheep from goats,

condemning what has or has not been done,

I did not come as a judge or priest or mother

forgiving sins we cannot anyway forget.

I am not a sorcerer – nothing I did was magic.

I told stories, so we’d think about the law:

what to do for the rich and the poor;

when to make peace and how to face war.

Who is our sister, neighbour and lover?

Should we defer to a master or brother,

Is Satan a tempter?  Is God a father?

I asked how we can be loving in spirit,

content with bread whilst thirsting knowledge;

and using our talents while remaining meek,

neither a zealot, nor a hypocrite.

And what should we sacrifice, what should we save?

The coin from the fish?  A body from the grave?

I came because truth is here, though hidden,

the same as on Earth as it is in Heaven.

Because there is God and right and wrong

I swept the whole house and lit a lantern,

turned out the temple, made a stand,

wrote in dust what we can’t understand.

The smell of burnt offerings is not enough.

I desire perfume and the finest cloth,

to pluck ears of corn, drink wine, taste fig,

help haul in the fish and weep for the dead,

to share my body and shed my blood,

I came for all the blessings of love.

Consider lilies looking up at the sky,

count the sparrows that flutter and die

proclaiming the importance of their tiny lives;

then share with me this bread, this wine,

body and blood of all living kinds

who share the same sea, soil and rain,

who die, become dust and live again.