The Sycamore’s Prayers
The Sycamore’s Prayers
Blind Man at the Gate
Read more
The Sycamore’s Prayers
Blind Man at the Gate
Read more
Soil With A Soul
Brian Zahnd
“The LORD God formed the human (adam) from the dust of the ground (adamah) and breathed into his nostrils the breath (spirit) of life, and the human (adam) became a living soul.” –Genesis 2:7
Soil is miracle ground — it’s the matrix of all life on earth. As the second account of creation in Genesis tell us, all life comes “out of the ground” — plants, animals, and humans. We did not fall as pure spirits from the realm of the perfect forms and find ourselves imprisoned in contemptible matter (as Platonism claims); rather we were formed from the dust of the earth, breathed on by God, and became living souls. We are humans from the humus, soil with a soul; we are a mysterious synthesis of the dust of the earth and the breath of God. There is a sense in which humans are very complicated, self-aware rocks — rocks so magnificently complex that we are capable of bearing the Creator’s image and sharing the Creator’s spirit. Indeed the psalmist is moved to praise God by saying,
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous — how well I know it.
(Psalm 139:14 NLT)
Read more
(This poem has deep meaning for Blind Man at the Gate, but many of the references and allusions probably only he understands. Don’t bother asking him to explain the poem, I’m sure he won’t.)
The Last Train Out of Monkeytown
Blind Man at the Gate
He caught the last train out of Monkeytown
Bought a ticket on Easter 04 and was eastbound
Left the wagon train beamed from outer space
Said adios to the obtuse and turned his face
Toward something he hoped was there
Read more
About You
Blind Man at the Gate
Let God talk to you
About you
For if you imagine God talking to you
About her or him, those or them
You’re on the fast-track to Pharisee City
And life there is anything but pretty
The worst stuff I ever heards
Began with these scary words:
“God told me to tell you”
Reminds me of when that guy shouted, “Judas!”
And Bob Dylan said, “I don’t believe you!”
(“Play…very…loud!”)
How does it feel?
Let God talk to you
About you
It’s a bit of good counsel
I try to let God talk to me
About me
Because my worst enemy
Is not her or him, those or them
But me
So Jesus save me
From me
It’s not the enemy without
But the enemy within
Who will do me in
Jesus save me
From me
And what about you?
Well, I have some good news
Jesus believes in you
It’s true
So cast off that heavy yoke
That miserable constraint
Where you think
You have to
Set everybody straight
You don’t
Have to
Let God talk to you
About you
Read more
Turn The Page
Blind Man at the Gate
In our journey through the holy script we’ve not yet reached THE END
Turn the page
All that is to be said has not yet been said
Turn the page
Long ago the writers finished the text
But the players have not yet said it all
There are heroes yet to take stage
There are dramas yet to be resolved
Turn the page
We’ve lingered long over this familiar leaf
And it’s beginning to turn yellow
We’ve begun to forget that which has gone before
We’ve begun to think there will be no more
Turn the page
We find comfort in that which is now too familiar
But the thrill is gone and the story has stalled
Turn the page
To move on in the divine tome is not a betrayal
Of that which we have come to know and love
But to understand the story demands that we
Turn the page
But those afraid to turn the page
Discourage and disparage and in fear rage
“If we turn the page things will change!”
Yes Read more
Moonset
Blind Man at the Gate
Last night I watched the moonset
From where I sat
It was half past eleven
Between Longs and Ypsilon
There I sat
With the moonset
In the enfolding dark
Growing colder
Knowing
I’m growing older
And time flies
But still I sat
Long past midnight
Under Rocky Mountain skies
Until the stars came out
I saw the Big Dipper
And the Milky Way smear
Seven meteorites
And one satellite
I hope it wasn’t inflicting cable news
On God’s good earth
BREAKING NEWS
Theater shootings are a thing now
When I was a kid we saw shoot ‘em up Westerns in theaters
But they don’t make imposters like John Wayne anymore
(T-Bone Burnett said that)
Now we have real shoot ‘em ups
In…
Theaters
Schools
Malls
Churches
Anywhere
Because Americans have a right
To act like John Wayne
“Bang! Bang! You’re dead!”
But it makes me wonder
When will America grow up
And act like an adult?
I don’t know. . .
Then shooting star number seven
Calls me away from the madness here below
And I remember something about
Each night giving a little grace
To help wipe away the sins of the day
Time to sleep
And dream of peaceful things
The moon sets
The sun also rises
Read more
Peace Donkey On Palm Sunday
Blind Man At The Gate
The king approaches on Palm Sunday
Forsaking the glorious war horse
To ride a ridiculous peace donkey
Gentle as the wings of a dove
Inaugurating the reign of love
Conquerors come with hubris, blood, and violence
Riding stallions of famine, war, and pestilence
(They tell me Genghis Khan murdered all of ten million)
The Prince of Peace comes without breaking a bruised reed
Swords are now for plowing, spears are now for pruning
(I’ll tell you for a fact, Jesus of Nazareth killed nary a one)
If Hosanna praises rocket’s red glare: Weep over Jerusalem!
If Hosanna acclaims kingdom come: Let the rocks cry out!
BZ
Read more
War Is…
Blind Man at the Gate
War is stupid.
War is wrong.
War is impatience.
War is song…
Made silent.
War is hate.
War is haste.
War is rape.
War is waste…
Of precious life.
War is murder.
War is money.
War is pride.
War is profit…
Woe the profiteers!
War is old.
War is told.
War is gold.
War is sold…
To remorseful buyers.
War is swords.
War is tanks.
War is bombs.
War is banks…
Of filthy lucre.
War is Auschwitz.
War is Hiroshima.
War is Nagasaki.
War is humanity…
Hanging by a string.
War is Hell.
War is Hades.
War is Sheol.
War is Gehenna…
Valley of the dead.
War is seen.
War is obscene.
War is famed.
War is declaimed…
By the Christ.
War is named.
War is shamed.
War is sham.
War is banned…
By the cross.
War is ancient.
War is always.
War is ever.
War is over…
If you want it.
War is Cain.
War is cruel.
War is crucifixion
War is cancelled…
With resurrection.
Read more
The World As It Is
(An Advent Poem)
Blind Man at the Gate
I take the world as it is and still believe
Debauched and beautiful, sordid and seemly
Where Kerouac is a secular saint
Heard uncensored telling his story
On the road with Dean Moriarty
In the long run Merton took a better road
But still the beat goes on…
Take your stand on whatever smidgen of faith you have
Smack-dab in a world of hustlers and hookers, users and losers, liars and lovers
Don’t waste your life on a pastel watercolor faith
That runs if touched by a tear or a drop of sweat
Can you take the world as it is
And still believe in God?
Can you take people as they are
And still believe in love?
Or do you only play at make believe?
A world of terracotta saints
Of little houses on soundstage prairies
So not at home in the world as it is
That you can’t wait for it to be left behind
That, my friend, is no real faith
It’s scripted B-movie phoniness
Rated G (for gullible audiences)
A real faith lives in a real world
The world as it is
Sordid and seemly
Debauched and beautiful
It’s the little town of Bethlehem
Good enough for the Son of God