Category Archives: Poem

The Body of Christ

I tried to write about the thoughts and random connections that come to me when I approach communion (Eucharist). I had planned to put in more biblical details and allusions so maybe at some point I will rewrite this, but as soon as I focus on bread, then the mundane stuff of continuing to live as well as the real work of mothering and nurture comes to me and so the real world got into my sense of sacrament (as usual). So it came out less mythical and mystical and more down-to-earth than I had thought…I hope it makes sense. Add your own in the comments if you like.

The bread of life. Amen

The labour of my mother’s hands. Amen

The buried grain arisen. Amen

Cord blood to the baby. Amen

The scent of the turned soil. Amen

The seed scattered. Amen

The birds feeding. Amen

Waybread for the journey. Amen

Loaves, flatbreads, rice, tortillas, sandwiches, pastries. Amen

Starving children while we glut. Amen

Crumbs from the table. Amen

Staling crust, dryly sticks in throat. Amen

Children should be seen and not heard. Amen

Where then is the sacrament? Amen

If all of this will lead to crucifixion. Amen

I threw my leftover lunch out of the train carriage. Mea culpa.

My mother had worked all night kneading and proving the bread. Amen

My grandparents starved in refugee camps. Amen

There are homeless in my own city. Amen

I was only a kid. Amen

Your vocation is to feed hungry souls. Amen

To wash feet, to change nappies. Amen

To break bread and model table manners. Amen

The body of Christ. Amen, amen.

A mother’s body torn to give life. Amen

A mother’s blood flowing through the cord. Amen

A mother’s milk swelling, or inadequate. Amen

The father waking in the night to help feed the baby. Amen

The blessing of grandparents. Amen

Solace to the elderly parent. Amen

This too is my body. Amen

The battery hen. Amen

The lives that go into the abattoir. Amen

The lives that are held in limbo, on Manus. Amen

The lives that are born but not nurtured. Amen

The loves that remain a source of shame and exclusion. Amen

The oceans full of oil and sewage. Amen

The rice crops failing because seeds become patented. Amen

Food is a business, water and investment. Oh Lamb of God have mercy.

I told you this is my body. Amen

We eat you, we eat each other, we are failing to love. Amen

Save us Lord, we can’t walk on water. Amen

I told you you would deny me, but now I will feed you. Amen.

Whenever you make food for your workmates. Amen

Whenever you give food to someone hungry. Amen

Whenever you celebrate your own child. Amen

Whenever you remember to visit your great aunt or grandmother. Amen

This is my body. This is the bread that feeds you. This is flesh and earth and physical joy and strength. This is soul and spirit and the ecstasy of connection. Break this, give this, do this in memory of me.

The pod of dolphins leap for joy. Amen

The chili from a colleague’s generous harvest. Amen

My sister gets up early to make bread– her vocation. Amen

Bread and sacrament, our life and our heritage. Amen, amen.

The body of Christ. Amen

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Encountered at the well

After what I wrote about water in the service, this week, today’s gospel reading happened to be Jesus debating the feisty Samaritan woman at the well. I love this gospel because I wrote one of my earliest HD papers on it and because it was the second gospel I ever preached at. Shallow of me. I ought to love it for the message and the contents and instead I love it for the road it has travelled with me. As I listened to it today I had words in my head from one of my friends who had told me Jesus was just ordinary “like you” and I thought about and ordinary Jesus offering “living water” and being told he has nothing to draw it with and the well is deep. And isn’t that just how ordinary old us feel most days? That people need things from us but we have nothing to draw it with and the well is deep. And I burst into tears (everyone was either too deep in thought to notice or tactful and looked away). But this poem is my musing on the “ordinary” burdened Jesus meeting this woman who refreshed him with her honesty and her reluctance to let him get away with things. May we all meet such women!

 

Encountered at the well

 

You are right,

I have nothing to draw with and the well is deep,

nothing to draw with and the well…

yes well I hadn’t planned on being

any sort of a Messiah, had I?

I could have done without the early mornings,

the lonely roads

the misunderstandings

 

frankly

 

and it is not like I am trying

to force something down your throat

rightly cynical fellow-traveller

but I am thirsty and you should be also

for the transformation that makes meaningless

your previous life.

 

Yes, call them all

come…come…come to the freakshow.

Are you another one that will call me

“King” and “Lord” and “Master” even while

missing the point?

 

I like you when you argue,

as if we were simply determining

whether you will address me as “Comrade” or “Adversary”.

To tell you the truth

I struggle with the same question.

Ways of (not)Knowing

Is it good to bite into

the crusty, doughy wheatiness

of Word made Flesh made Bread;

to drink the cup- the complex bouquet

of birth and stars and long roads,

friends, stories, long roads,

betrayal, suffering, short road to death

but also hearth-fires and washed feet?

 

Is it good to remember

that love had courage

to speak out, stand tall,

stand with, be told;

learn and grow;

to hold firm and die?

Dare we shed a tear?

 

Is it “him” and is it even me?

Where is the place on earth

where love bakes, breaks bread

and wine is shared;

where suffering is acknowledged?

What does it mean

to have “life”?

Prayer

I was trying to copy down some of the liturgy resources from church into a dropbox and as I always do when I work with liturgy resources I felt a need to make my own. I am thinking of doing my blog a bit differently for a time and this might be a good transition to it. It feels like a change I need and I will try it out and if it isn’t right will return to what I have been doing. My intention here was to use some humans apart from “mother” and “father” and also get away from the anthropomorphism to show it’s a metaphor not a literal “truth”. But still to honour the human experience of the world because we are humans and life and body are good things.

Author of the ongoing story:

history, herstory, earthstory, lovestory;

Midwife of our better selves

taking us forth from the earth out mother

and placing us in her arms;

Living water running through our veins,

Spirit: wild wind of change, exhaled breath,

kiss of life;

Fire the yearning in our spirits for liberation,

the passion for justice and to be in beauty;

Word and Wisdom,

Way, truth and life;

we reach for you

hold us.

Amen.

Life-affirming creed

Please note: I know I can’t draw but I wanted to show what I meant. I never let children tell me they “can’t draw”, as I think we express something even if it isn’t a beautiful product. So try to see it as a child’s drawing. When I can draw it better I will change the picture

New year, new me and all that and I thought about how I began by writing a creed and had meant to write a new one from time to time- not necessarily to reject the old (though I would be allowed to outgrow it if it happened) but to keep trying to articulate to myself what I believe and what all this is about. So it would be time to write a new one.

Then I have been reading “New Feminist Christianity” and whenever I read things theological I feel a stirring to write it and preach it. I thirst to be a priest but at least I have my blog and a couple of side projects. And finally I have been watching “Call the Midwife” aided and abetted by my youngest son who bought me season 3 for Christmas. I have a love/hate relationship with the series but in all honesty more love for it’s emotional directness, themes of love, laughter and women’s friendship as well as birth and sometimes suffering and grief. Also I am a sucker for women’s history ESPECIALLY when they show it with nice frocks and hairstyles.

So then when I go to write a “creed” I have been affected by these influences of all the feminist theologians telling me to get over the kyriearchy (I agree) while Jenny Lee (a fictional midwife) reminds me every episode that the centre of life is love. And I think that my new “creed” will be not so much an “I believe” statement but more of an “I eperience love” statement which is more to the point. I often think about who and how I love and as an examination of conscience this is the right focus. But a creed is even more basic than that. A creed is not about me and how I am, it is about the reality around me. How do I experience and access being loved. When I finally realised I was loved and lovable, when I was 35 it changed my life. Up until then I had wanted to be lovable but had never believed it was possible. Once I was healed of my inability to know myself I became aware of love from a lot of different people and real love (not just grudging duty-love) from God.

So my transformed, liberated “creed” is an “I am loved” statement. Knowing and experiencing are ways of “believing” I suppose but without that rationalising and legalistic edge. Here is my attempt then:

As we awaken in the womb of God,

quicken in the depths of her who conceived us,

Jesus, our midwife reaches

to hold and steady us

on our terrifying journey.

Feeling squashed and stretched,

helpless and falling

 

Jesus takes and wraps us

to bring our newly born selves

back into the arms of the Mother.

The cord may be cut

but the milk flows.

 

The Spirit confronts us in the mirror.

We trace our ancestry:

the deepest reality of the universe

beating in each breast.

Beloved child, allowed to grow and choose

but never a stranger

from the arms of our Mother.

Dark Days

“May you live in interesting times” the ancient curse goes and this week more than ever before I can feel it. On a personal note I have issues of the many headed (and always growing new heads) beast of poverty with my fridge broken, my drains blocked, my car damaged by hailstones that make cherries looks small by comparison, debt, fines, and loss of license (so maybe the car doesn’t matter). I work hard enough and long enough to not be getting my academic writing done (nor anything creative) but not enough to survive on. Last night I realised just how much the ongoing and recurring stresses of this year have harmed me but also that I have beautiful friends in my life. I am not just whinging, this is a common theme at the moment among low income earners whose belts are being cinched tighter than is reasonable – and the loss of good health and educational outcomes (for example) that go with it should also concern us when we consider how many like me might have small children. Anyway even middle-aged disgruntled ranters like me matter as human beings.

On a less personal note I can turn to the world of politics where it seems that evil and inhumane madness is running rampant throughout the world- that many people hate the disadvantaged “other” even more than they love their own interests and we constantly vote in madmen (gender intentional and largely justified) who we then use as role models for truly anti-social behaviour and beliefs.

And yet as one of my friends in the Greens reminded on Facebook there are little wellsprings of hope…small triumphs for love (such as “Wicked campers” told they can’t put misogynist and violent slogans on their vans anymore and some US states bringing in preferential voting). Another friend reposted Todd Beaupre’s assertion that: “Tomorrow, I will not define myself by the future President. I will use whatever freedom and privilege I have to keep making this world what I want it to be. Donald Trump is one person in a powerful position, but he will not control my life. And my friends and allies who may not be as privileged as I am, know that I am still here for you. My America means love, positivity, truth, rewarding hard work while supporting those who struggle to keep up, freedom, and peace. I will not be silenced. Hillary may have lost, but there are still many millions of Americans who will show tomorrow and every day after, that LOVE STILL WINS. Who is with me?” (I have no idea who Todd Beaupre is but I thought the quote worth circulating.)

So these friends have reminded me firstly, not to neglect my blog even though I feel full of despair and snowed under, and secondly to take this opportunity to make a commitment that I feel echoes my baptismal and confirmation commitment to walk with God. So I will take a few small moments to try to put that into words

In a world where the hatred of others teaches me anger, I will nevertheless strive to speak with love and kindness.

I will be courageous is speaking out against abusive ways of viewing other people and the world, but I will not seek to humiliate or stereotype those I debate with.

I will look to notice those who are made invisible by discourses of might and privilege. I will give them words of recognition and friendship and silences of deep listening.

I will be kind to myself and pursue enjoyment with my friends up to a point, but will not allow escapist activities or ways of thinking to sway me from the things that need to be done.

I will listen to the people who love me and open my heart to believe them that I am loved and loveable.

I will nurture and strengthen the wisdom, hope and loving-kindness of others knowing that their goodness may build a better world.

I will learn to be better at accessing the help I need from people and grow toward advocating also for others.

Yeah though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death I will reorient myself toward the loving God of all good possibilities, of life renewed.

I will do something today that is enjoyable. I will speak to someone today who I love.

I ask the strength of God to achieve this, the compassion of God when I fail in any of these and the joy of God in the living of my commitment to her eternal love. Amen.

And then right now I will do some work on my article 😉

 

 

 

What do we mean when we ask for “mercy”?

I am (re)writing my article and job seeking and putting together a liturgy for a few weeks’ time so no proper reflection this week. I am sort of sorry but also conscious that probably noone will miss it. But I will share here a prayer I wrote.

As part of putting together the afore-mentioned liturgy I was reading through reams of “penitential rites” full of “Lord have mercy” (sometimes in Latin “Kyrie eleison”) and not feeling ok about how glibly even feminists take on Kyriearchal language (or at least accept it so long as it is in a dead language).

Even though in my liturgy my theme for reconciliation will be Reconciliation (as in the unfinished business colonial Australia has with the real owners of this land) I wrote an alternative that I may use another time to help me reject the idea that kyriearchy is needed for repentance (which means turning around) and transformation.

I also reflected on the idea of “mercy”. What do we mean when we ask God/Jesus?Wisdom to “have mercy” on us. Are we still invoking those interpretive traditions where God wants to punish us for our sins unless we grovel? Or where God will “save” us from anything unpleasant? So I wondered how to put into words what we might mean by “have mercy” when I feel that the point of a penitential rite is to reconnect ourselves to a more positive relationship with God (as manifest in our lives and relationships with ourselves, others and the earth).

So here is my imperfect attempt, which I may or may not use or improve further down the track.

 

For making you our “Father” so that we might hide behind the helplessness of a child,

for making you our “Lord” so that we might put down ourselves and others in your name,

for expecting you to lead us into battle when you came offering peace:

we are truly sorry.

 

For the anxieties and mistrust that stop us living more genuinely,

for the despair and retreat that stifle our response to your call,

for the profound loneliness of a life focussed on comfort and privilege:

we ask healing and transformation

 

For the days of our life yet unlived,

for our suffering brothers and sisters that call out for us to join our voices and hearts to theirs,

for the good news that has not yet opened every heart:

we promise to enter more deeply when you invite us.

 

Loving God we accept your healing and your call

as we know you accept our good intentions and our love. Amen.

Stef Rozitis 2016