What a father teaches

 I recently had a poem published by the Texas Poetry Assignment. The poem is entitled "What a father teaches." It is mostly true, told with a little bit of imagining. My father did talk to me of the blue jays and how they cared for me. I was one of their own.  And my father was a shoe man, a salesman almost all his life. Until he started his lawn care business when he retired.  At 90 he still mows a few lawns (mostly for neighbors).  The poem was originally part of my "Blind man" series, but has now found a life of its own.  

Some thoughts for Lent on insufficiency and the body's theology of need (plus a poem)

The body's theology, is a theology of need, of insufficiency. This is my meditation for Lent; the fact that built into each and every one of us is a need for someone or something else. As a society, we tend to mistake need for a negative thing. But, the fact is that whatever it is I need, whether it is a kind word or a cup of coffee, help changing a flat tire or just help getting out of a chair, that need is an opportunity for someone else to set aside their own plans, their own needs or desires, to lay down their own life for the sake of another. When we see someone in need, we are given an opportunity not just to serve another, but to become more fully ourselves. We are being given an opportunity to share our gifts and become more fully who we were meant to be.  But, even more than that—we are being given an opportunity to enter into the presence of God.  “Whatever you do for the least of these (the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the prisoner, the needy), you do for Me.” Matthew 25:31-46. My need, my insufficiency is part of my humanity—it is built into my very flesh--- and somehow in the mystery of God’s grace, that is a blessing we can never escape. And so, I have written this poem as a reminder for myself that brokenness and need are at the heart of  the body’s theology. 

A theology of need

 

Sufficient in

our insufficiency;

this is the body’s theology;

 

an emptiness

within our every effort

where another may find

 

space enough

to be

 

enough;

 

each of us

an empty cup

waiting for

a broken pitcher.

 

To fill a void with our own

is to finally find our home,

 

a place where we belong.

 

This

is the body’s theology.

 

The saints are never

wrong.