• lenten journal: holy week

    by  • April 9, 2009 • Uncategorized • 4 Comments

    I realize my posts have leaned heavily towards the poetic, over the past several days in particular. Yes, it is National Poetry Month, but that’s not the reason. Part of the reason is it’s easily eleven-thirty before I even begin to write at night and I am finding it increasingly challenging to stay up long enough for a thousand coherent words to show up. Part of it is I’m being fed by reading and writing poetry these days. So here, in the dregs of my day, is tonight’s offering.

    holy week

    is slipping by
    while I’m at work
    (so are a lot of things)
    and I wonder how it felt
    the first time around
    looking for donkeys
    and upper rooms
    holy errands, yes but
    still things to do
    by the time they sat
    down for dinner
    thursday evening
    I wonder how much
    they spent talking shop
    until Jesus took the bread
    and broke the whole
    thing wide open

    or perhaps it’s just
    what I hope will
    happen to me

    Peace,
    Milton

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    4 Responses to lenten journal: holy week

    1. Erin
      April 9, 2009 at 1:25 pm

      Beautiful. Thank you. As someone who’s an associate at a brand-new church, I’ve been doing a lot of “holy errands” these last weeks. I, too, long for the whole thing to be broken wide open.

      Your “dregs” are a gift; thank you for sharing them.

    2. Maureen
      April 9, 2009 at 1:37 pm

      As someone who works for the church, this hit me in the gut. Even in Holy Week, we spend too much time “talking shop” and I worry that I will not be attentive enough to what is really happening. My prayer is that we are all ready to be transformed and lifted beyond our “holy errands” into the astonishing reality of Christ’s presence among us. Thank you for helping us to pay attention.

    3. M
      April 9, 2009 at 2:18 pm

      This one makes me cry. What we all hope for. Thanks, Milton.

      Maureen from Minnesota

    4. April 10, 2009 at 2:24 am

      Linda and I read all of John chapters 18 and 19 last night in Spanish and in English. It felt like a big mistake– my back was aching and my tongue felt numb from twisting itself around two chapters of Cervantes’ spanish. I walked straight out into the evening air, silent as we were bid to do, and found Juana weeping. She grabbed me and hugged me tightly. “That was beautiful,” she said. “That was wonderful.” I’m sure I didn’t get what it was like the first time around, but she did, and that was enough last night . . .”

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