Come, Lord, Lowly and Plain

Come, Lord, come; lowly and plain. Dwell with those who live in the dead-ends of cities and towns; in the by-ways of valleys and hills. Be friend and kin where need is great; tender with words and hands in love, in hope. Come, Lord, now; lowly and plain.

For Faith, Hope, and Love to Meet Our Days

Most merciful God, creator and redeemer of all: to a world wracked with pain and loss, you came in Jesus to take our suffering into your heart, there to bear and heal it. Tender your Spirit in our hearts, that we who groan and weep, for ourselves and others, may find faith, hope, and love to meet our days. Now and in the end, wipe away our tears, our sorrows, in life made new and whole, that grief and death will be no more. Amen.

A Commonwealth of Care

We come into life not by self circumstance and act but by circumstance and act of others. We are not born to be dependent, yet we are born dependent. I was born dependent. The person next to me was born dependent, as was the person far from me. On whom do I depend? On whom do they depend? On each of us. On all of us. Hence, we are born to care, to care for each of us, for all of us. We come into life not facing self but facing another, needing another, to care for one another. From beginning to end, we are born to live in a commonwealth of care. And so we should.

Pen and Lens

At the thin verge of meaning,
I wander in fields and woods,
near and far, known and not;
a kind of faith, hope, love
for truth, beauty, goodness.
Though the word escapes me,
and the image, my camera,
I wonder long, pen and lens.

A Child Is Born For Us This Night

All our vulnerability embodied
in so compact a time and space,
a child is born for us this night —
for the twisted tongue and limb,
and the harrowed heart and soul,
for the nameless none have marked,
and the countless come to pass —
born to sinew faith, hope, love
from dark to light, death to life,
this passion laid to earth, for us.

Words That Will Not Sleep

With the wrinkling years
it happens less and less,
words that will not sleep,
that clamor in the head
to be written, to be said,
though the dark is deaf
and morning long to come;
still, the heart does voice.

More Than a Sentimental Narrative about a Baby

The event we celebrate at Christmas is more than a sentimental narrative about a baby. It is the reorientation of human history through God's will not to power but to sacrificial love through presence in and identification with our vulnerability and suffering. "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14.) God's glory, grace, and truth are embodied in the Child in a stable in Bethlehem, then on a cross outside of Jerusalem. And this is the real good news we carol at Christmas and throughout the year when we live his glory, grace, and truth in our world of vulnerability and suffering.