For forty-five years, with a few years quiet, there has been
an ordination poem written by me and gifted to some friend and brother of mine,
in the Society of Jesus. In addition, for even more years, I have been writing
poems for other “in-house” occasions,” usually when a fellow Jesuit pronounces
vows within our community. After two years of living in the community a man
will pronounce vows of poverty, chastity and obedience – and then spend many
years subsequently wondering at that mysterious impulse of commitment. Ordination follows for those who choose to
elaborate their identity in the exercise of that service to the people of God
and to the Church. After some more years
of discovering mysterious sources of strength and power and humility and grace
within one’s self, all the men who are already “vowed religious” then spend an
intense period of reflection on all they have seen, heard and done; and then
recommit themselves to service as members of “the least Society.” That renewal
of promises is called “final vows.”
At each of those stages of growth and renewal I have written
a poem, now and then. My reasons will always remain my own. It is a prompting
of the soul that tells me, “I think you ought to do a poem.” If one appears, then all is well. If one does
not appear, then all is still well; but my impulse to gift remains simmering
within me.
This year, 2015, is unusual in that three of the eight men
who were ordained, in the Midwest, in June, to the priesthood of the Church as
members of the Society of Jesus are men with whom I have grown close. Each of
them has been a cause of great joy for me as they have been transparent in
sharing with me their dreams, hopes, concerns and faith. As each of them has
grown “in wisdom and in grace,” from the time we first met “in the Temple,” I
have felt my own hope in this community restored and nourished. Oh, within
their generation there are others, many others, in fact, who open up a circle
of welcome for me when I return to community gatherings. With them all I feel
no need to pay an exorbitant “price of the ticket (in the words of James
Baldwin)” in order to be of value, to be of service, to be taken seriously. And
to be blessed with the energy of the young men who are restless to bring their
fire and passion and to the kingdom journey that I have been walking for more
than fifty years.
So I saw these poems
as three moments of discovery for three of the disciples of Jesus as they
tumbled into the unknown, each time He called them to do impossible
things. I saw those discovery moments as
focused of loaves and fishes. A blessed meal. I heard a story, a prayer, a
hunger from each of the men who asked for a poem -- even when they did not know
they were asking.
And that is the gift. Always.
* * * * * *
The
Always Time
For Christopher, Adam and Lukas
I.
Now I know
how
it was
always
bread
and silence
And him
waiting for us to see
I knew that
in that desolate place
the thorns
and thickets would be mild
against
the crowd
grown restive and suspicious
Silence
Then
Feed them
And the
hours and hours and hours
we worked
ashamed
and I was frightened
to hold loaf
after loaf
and the
crumbs
of my
certainty grew less and less
And silence
which was always
his blessing
and his call
Feed
them
Now I know
how
II.
Meant to
overhear
the sword
stuck into
my brother’s heart we waited
at the fire
Do you love me?
Then why do
you sleep
grow anxious
pull the
shadows over you
and weep
Where have I run
from
you how have I grown
deaf
did not the widow’s howl
shatter your
doubt
a son
for the
mother watching death is
little
enough gift
But for the world
that will
eat you like this bread
You
must hear it
again and again and speak
when you are
altogether choked with fear
Do you (and
I knew he claimed
us all)
love (and I knew he claimed
us all)
me
(and he knew us all to be
hungry to be
claimed)
forever
Feed them
III.
I will
breathe again
soon
When and if
ever the fire dancing
shadows
steady themselves
or my
eyes are
shocked dry
at last
to see
beyond the wall we have
made of each
other’s bodies
no shame
in that
clinging embracing
holding warmth
against the
clamor of swords and knives
He asked for
bread
and fish
and kissed us
each of us
all of us
and finally
me
It is enough
to feed upon
the fire
And
finally
let my
breath sing
away the
darkness
At last
I do not need the hunger
It is time
It is now
the always
time
____________________________
27
May 2015/13 June 2015
