It’s a fiction Monday, but the fiction was not done in time. Instead, I offer a small poem from my devotions this morning, thinking about what we call this season after Trinity Sunday and before Advent. There are several names: Kingdom Time, Church Time, and Ordinary Time. I have become rather fond of the latter. There’s something about recognizing the ordinary for what it may in fact be, so this poem may in fact be more of a prayer than anything. (Though, isn’t all writing done by a Christian, in some way?)
“perhaps ordinary time is a gift of God”
We here stand between the breath of creation,
exhaled on the Sunday of Three
inhaled on the Sunday of Coming
betwixt and between reality and Reality,
glory to glory and everlasting to the close.
Have the farm hands been found calloused,
have the servants gone and buried their wage?
Have we made our cloister in a false garden,
have we gilded the book and masqueraded as a mage?
Why give us cause to stones to speak,
when mortals were privileged to sing?
Why trade the light of stars for dust,
when light was the first of all created?
When Light is the only begotten?
We here stand between nave and apse,
exhaled on the Gloria
inhaled on the Amen
betwixt and between form and Form,
Light from Light and eternal to the infinite.
Have the calves of gold been fresh from our fires,
have the chains of metered beads been laid aside?
Have we made our haven at the kneeling rail,
have we taken to our Table with that old cheat sin of Pride?
Why give us cause to big fish to swallow,
when narrow path was laid at our feet?
Why trade the bread of angels for barley,
when the gifts of God for the people of God are free?
When the people are ever free?
This is the breath of eternity,
this space between foundation and new,
this space between first and second advent,
this space between redeeming and redeemed.
How ordinary this time, how ordinary.
How plain and simple, bare.
Could this be a Mystery too, by chance?
Perhaps.
For what would we do,
we farm hands,
we servants,
we idolaters,
we gluttons,
should that second advent come too soon?
Perhaps ordinary time is a gift of God,
to hush the stones,
to see the stars,
to turn back the fish,
to receive Him true.
Perhaps ordinary time is a gift of God,
perhaps ordinary time is the cusp of
All Well.
© 2011, Preston. All rights reserved.
