Musings at 4 AM on a D.C. Morning

Alas! Alas,

Month of Mars’ imagining:

You enfold the contentious record
Between
The failing grip of winter starkness

And
Gathering lush beginning
Of cheery, cherry blossom promise.
We come
Witnessing the Armageddon struggle—
The last gasps of slushy winter bloviations
And
More temperate climes
Preparing the way for future fruitfulness.

We come
Recognizing death
And
The need for new-life rising—
Lambs of sacrifice
And
Resolute love
Overcoming  the power of martial plunder,
Marshalling fresh orders of life
And
Peace.
So,
Standing at the cross-roads of
Winter Discontent
And

Springtime Possibility,
Where sparkling, ice-sculptured, translucent beauty
Belies cold reality,
We welcome
Liminal potentiality
And
Seek the promise of what is melting
In apricity, spring’s solar warmth.
Drops
From
This winter frieze,

Dissolving,
Let waters of life descend
And
Flow,
A tide of rising expectations,
A tide building new dreams and scapes,
In this world of different dream imaginings
A patient peaceful growing,

Without
Contentious rivalries,
Without
Ice deceptions—
Fear,
Hate,
And
Winter’s cold-heartedness—isolating
And
Separating
Into camps of
US
And

THEM.
There, saber-rattling, political, battlefield postures
Create states of starving children
And
Numberless maimed.

(drip)
Let us overthrow
The Martian winter’s knife-cutting winds
And
Herald spring’s musky scented breath of loam.
Let us
Honor the cheery, cherry blossom trees of peace
And
Dance
In one another’s arms.

Christmas 2024

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

Our world is broke and on its way to Hell.

Our government has abrogated care

Of children shot in classrooms everywhere.

The noise! The noise! This grief we cannot bear,

But no one stops the sale of gun hardware.

 

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

Water we drink is poisoned in our wells

With dross from reckless manufacturing

Of things desired to make life worth the living:

More cars! more cars, more LED’s so bright,

More cell phones filled with AI delights.

 

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

Save us from the rising ocean swell,

From climate change and avaricious life

With carbon footprint, violence, and strife,

With wars! With wars and enemies we’ve sought,

Not seeking neighbors as you taught.

 

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

We hear our funeral tolling bell

That sounds of lonely death and graves

Apart from You and from Your Word that saves.

Our sin! Our sin is gluttony and pride,

Dark deceits from which we cannot hide.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

For we are lost; our way from you we fell.

We wander without compass or a goal

Of helping neighbor, but patrol

Our walls! Our walls we build to separate,

Supporting fear-filled xenophobic hate.

 

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

The poor imprisoned, locked up in their cells,

They can’t afford the cost of liberty,

So, for release, they give a guilty plea.

“Police! Police, arrest, incarcerate

All those we fear now standing at our gate.”

 

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

Empower us to speak your love and tell

Your word of hope and mercies ever given,

That from grave in body you have risen

To bring! to bring salvation and release,

To live as one in wholeness and in peace.

A PALMER’S PRAYER FOR ALL SAINT’S DAY, 2023

With palm branch in my hand, I went in the world,

Crying words of hoped for salvation,

“Hosanna, Lord, save us, I am a sinner among sinners

And cannot free myself. Hosanna! Lord, have mercy.”

And the Roman soldiers came, and the power of Rome came down;

And people died and people cried, and the earth shook and broke wide open.”

Wipe away every tear from our eyes and lead us to the waters of life.

And we waited; with bated breath, we waited.

 

With a song of hope in my heart, I went into the world,

Among the people without number, singing praises,

“Amen! Blessings and glory, and wisdom and thanksgiving, and honor and power and might be to God.

And lives, for entertainment, were lost, in coliseums.

And people died and we cried, and we washed our battle robes in the blood of vengeance,

Calling it white, and calling it right, and calling it satisfaction.

Wipe away every tear from our eyes and lead us to the waters of life.

And we waited; with bated breath, we waited.

 

With reforming words in my mouth, I went into the world,

Proclaiming the liberty of God’s undeserved love for the people;

And the people argued, and they fought, and they chose self-determining power.

The lamb was chased from the field and butchered to eat for soldiers

Who sailed to foreign shores, there people to enslave,

To rape and pillage in the power of the cruciform sword.

Wipe away every tear from our eyes and lead us to the waters of life.

And we waited; with bated breath, we waited.

 

With songs of New Jerusalem on my lips, I went into the world,

And became a thief and a murderer, finding ways to see people as less than human;

Here we fought Europe’s wars on their foreign shores

And possessed the lands of the unknowing vanquished,

Declaring our freedom, while buying and selling the freedom of others;

And they died and they cried as we profited from their labors and land.

Wipe away every tear from our eyes and lead us to the waters of life.

And we waited; with bated breath, we waited.

 

With a song of protest and a dream, I went into the world,

Acknowledging my white demagoguery, seeking peace,

Hoping to overcome some day the sins

 of prejudice, hate, and dispossession;

And from the streets, we heard, “They will not replace us.”

Then, with flag and cross, social covenants tottered.

Wipe away every tear from our eyes and lead us to the waters of life.

And we waited; with bated breath, we waited.

 

With a song of lament, I went into the world,

Remembering those who have died in the name of power,

In the lie of empire, fearing and hating what they cannot understand:

That the poor in spirit are a blessing,

That peacemakers engage the kingdom of heaven,

That mourning can lead to laughter in God’s justice.

Wipe away every tear from our eyes and lead us to the waters of life.

And we waited, with bated breath, we waited.

 

With no words for a song, I go into the world,

Hearing the silence of the dead in Ukraine, the Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh,

The thousands of Israelis, Palestinians—Christians and Muslims,

And those who will die from gun violence today.

And I’m thinking that maybe waiting is not helpful.

Maybe it is time to do something for Christ’s sake.

Wipe away every tear from our eyes and lead us to the waters of life.

That we might live and act, in word and deed, with you for peace.

 

What got us here?

I

Sitting in our easy chair,
We watched the marches on the air
And wondered at the world presented to us
When demonstrators broke on through
With gallows for red, white, and blue.
We witnessed then the horrors that o’er threw us.
Lord, have mercy, sing the chorus—
Lord, have mercy, sing the chorus—
Lord, have mercy, sing the chorus—

II

There is, in the knowing of ritual,
A yearning and the need for ritual;
For oftentimes, only ritual
Has the power to relieve and reveal public angst.
So, our nation was drawn
To that elemental, tabled core of devotion;
Word of prayer spoken,
Looking over Jordan pool
With lights of life
Rising to the heavens,
Not seeing, but reflecting,
On lives lost and the life to come.
“What got us here?”,
We ask in wonder.
“What got us here?
What got us here?
What god is here?”

III

Is our ground of being
Fertile loess of loss to fill the grave
Of what, though flawed, was something good?
Or can that fecund soil sustain
The seed of new growth and harvest?
Can we with careful hands
Pull the weeds among the wheat,
Or must we wait for murky future mercy given?
O Ground of Being, in you we trust
And cache our hopes and dreams in you.
In dependence on your justification
We seek your justice for all.
“What got us here?”,
We ask in wonder.
“What got us here?
What got us here?
What god is here?”

IV

There is, in avarice of land,
An esurient need of land,
And only acquisition
Has the power to sate our public covetousness.
We came, we saw, we stole the dirt.
Denying prime title or civil worth,
We sold their lives. In the name of Mammon,
Seeking ever expanding borders,
Smilingly, we wrote
Those many treaties broken;
Taking, without reflecting,
On lives lost and lives to come.
“What got us here?”,
We ask in wonder.
“What got us here?
What got us here?
What god is here?”

V

Is our image then
Devoid of God
and cannot then be saved
From wanton ways? Or is reparation desire
Enough to heal these broken lives?
Can we with careful hands
Find the wheat among the weeds,
Or must we plead for murky future mercy given?
O Image Fair, to square accounts,
You ruled our lives redeemed in You.
With repentant pennants, we treat you to surrender,
Seeking peace, for all your precious people.
“What got us here?”,
We ask in wonder.
“What got us here?
What got us here?
What god is here?”

VI

And so, we come, with ritual,
With yearning, in need of ritual,
Knowing that only ritual
Has the power to relieve and heal our public wounding.
So, we come to bind our hurts
At tabled, core conviction, with devotion
And word of prayer now spoken.
Looking into Jordan pool
We see the light
Of murky mercy given
Not reflecting now, but seeing
Lives lost and potential life to come.
“What got us here?”,
We ask in wonder.
“What got us here?
What got us here?
What? God is here?”

VII

And so, we come, in need of prayer,
With cries that fill the open air,
Remembering loss, beginning times of healing.
When impeachment trial is through
And judgments made are true,
With hope-filled hearts, we’ll bow our heads while kneeling—
Lord have mercy. Sing, believing.
Lord have mercy. Sing, believing.
Lord have mercy. Sing, believing.  

Because the Stone Is Rolled Away CORRECTED

Because the Stone Is Rolled Away 

corrected 3/18

Peter Heide

In wilderness contention, from Jabbok water baptisms, 
Wrest us to your restoration highway, to resurrection gardens of possibility—
For we walk, limp, grope, and crawl
In your likeness, in your imago dei, in your gifts of touch and action.
With loving grace, help us reveal your saving works and goodness,
The joy of justification healing,
And your active incarnate presence
As we claim your living body and find our distinctive wholeness in the midst of this broken world.
So, as Braille is known by the touch of the blind,
Let our lives be known to you, O Lord.
As action speaks meaning to the lives of the deaf,
Let our actions bear witness to your Word, O Christ.
As wheelchairs, walkers, canes, and crutches support us in our lives,
Let our lives support others in your Spirit.

Because the Stone Is Rolled Away

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In the Shade of a Tree

In the Shade of a Tree

Peter T. Heide, 2014

 

In the shade of a tree,
Where others will come,
I sit with my brothers

To beg coin for home.

With the shame of the blind,

By law, marked as sin,

One asks whose the fault is—

“Is his or his kin?”

Then a voice from another

Sighs, “Neither the case.

God’s glory’s in each child

Created in Grace.”

I next heard one spitting.

I braced for the spray,

Got mud on my eyelids;

And then, sent away

To wash in Siloam,

Erased the disgrace.

I washed in those waters

And new life embraced—

A life of new vision,

Creation to see:

Great things they called buildings

And things they called trees.

But then rumors started.

“It’s all been a scam.

If he’s the blind beggar,

His life is a sham.”

But others there stated,

Amid all the din,

“It’s not the blind beggar,

It’s one of his kin.”

I tried to assure them.

“’Though now that I see,

I am the same person.

In Christ, it is me!”

Some came with suspicion.

Oh, how can this be?

The one who was born blind

Is able to see?

I told them of Jesus,

His spit and the mud,

The waters of sending

And vision of good.

They said, “This is nonsense!”

“You sinner!” they cried

“Your teachings are foolish!

Be gone! Go outside!”

In the shade of a tree

Where others will come,

I pray for belonging,

A place to call home;

And then one approaches

With faith to receive

A world of belonging.

O Lord, I believe.

In you there is vision

With new ways to live,

Embracing each other

With gifts that you give.

From the waters, we’re sent;

And so, we now come,

Your vision proclaiming

Of new life and home;

A home where all people

Are welcomed in love,

All sharing the gifts that

We have from above.

No matter our natures

Received at our birth,

We’re sent from the waters

Of death and new birth.

Transitions!

From summer’s heat to winter’s snow is Autumn’s time of falling leaves,

Of colors bright and crisp clear mornings

With frost and sparkling dew on yard and field.

We go into the fields to gather in the harvest of what we have planted,

Cutting the last of this season’s hay to feed the animals through the winter.

We pick the fruit from laden trees, bagging, basketing them;

And last tomatoes relishing one more fresh salad.

Transitions!

Now caps and jackets lend their warmth,

Or sweaters knit with hugging yarn

Begin the bundling cocooning time

Of wrapping up against the cold.

Yet still come days when warmth appears,

When sleeves roll up and jackets drape

A shoulder or an arm, or wrap around a waist,

Rather than provide excessive heat.

Transitions!

We celebrate this time of coming from and going to

With sweet, sweat labor, and work well done;

And breathe the musky, attared air of fallen leaves, of fresh cut fields,

Of baking apple crisp and pumpkin pie, of buttered squash,

Thanking God for another year of servanthood

Transitions!