"Choose Your Seat and Sit Down..."

A Triptych for New Priests

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    

                                                            --Luke

____________________________

27 May 2015/13 June 2015