Documentary

(x = space)

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Documentary

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Notre-Dame stands

It needs fixing

There should be two funds

Feed people with the first collection

Establish banks, fields to raise

Crops for the hungry

Not the shop-hungry

But the hungry-now

That would be Gothic-good, I think

Pointing a people toward the sky

Making sure they have

The strength to stand

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C L Couch

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(“Resurrecting Notre-Dame,” If We Built It Today, The Science Channel)

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Photo by Emma Van Sant on Unsplash

Rataje nad sazavo, Czech Republic

sunlit golden barley ears

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Tuesday Bible Study

(x = space)

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Tuesday Bible Study

(introduction)

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Chapter 16 in

Matthew,

Verses 13 through 19

The passage that’s about

A person

As a rock,

The church that doesn’t

Get a metaphor

But against which

The gates of hell

Cannot prevail

And I sigh, because

The church matters in

All this

And I don’t want it to

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I want the church to have

No purpose

And to go away

Because it’s been

A source of abuse

And is a place

Where egos go to

Have their forces reinforced

While the better

Part of spirit

Goes unfed and hid

Inside a corner covered by

The Sunday best

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But there it is

The church

Uttered as a claim

By Christ

Maybe it started

In that moment

With Peter set as

The foundation

(maybe not a pope

but the beginning

and a papa in that way)

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And the church

(nonetheless)

So strong

That hell, the keeper

And the hider of

All evil

Has not chance to last,

Even though hell might

Seem to be doing pretty well

Just now

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So what is

The church?

It is a place we go to

To worship

That is first, I think

Some say

That worship has two parts,

Word and sacrament

We learn something close

About our

Scripture,

And then there is a

Sacred act for us

To take part in

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Both parts inspiring

Everything we do

Once outside, again

To encounter in and as

The new week

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I guess that’s useful

And it’s spiritual

And if the

Spirit of God is there,

There is a source

As well an imprimatur

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But for the cynical,

I understand and am

With you

I’d like to think a church-less

Faith is possible,

Though I must wrestle

(maybe

in a bout

not un-Jacob-like)

With authenticity

With

(and this is griping)

All the excuses

The church gives itself

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There, I’m out

Of energy

Maybe I try too hard

To find my own resources

Maybe I’m missing

Something

That would

Feed me well

Maybe all this should be

For next Tuesday

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C L Couch

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[from Matthew 16]

[13] When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, He questioned His disciples: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” [14] They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” [15] “But what about you?” Jesus asked. “Who do you say I am?” [16] Simon Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” [17] Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by My Father in heaven. [18] And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. [19] I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

Berean Study Bible (cited at biblehub.com)

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Photo by Sonaal Bangera on Unsplash

St. Mary’s Islands, India

This is an island about 30 minutes from the coastal area of Udupi in Karnataka, India. Beautiful place, clean waters, more shells, less sand. 🙂

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Precipitous Evolution

(x = space)

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Precipitous Evolution

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We have atomic bombs

In silos, ready to launch

There is a pandemic

We’re trying to ignore

Despite the rise in cases

Second wave, extension of

The first

We’ve heated up the Earth

So that volcanos and

Windstorms, forest fires

Are all readier

Their unleashing is worse

Could nature ever be

Our friend again?

But we are consumed with

Human ratings on TV and in

Our other media:

They must exist, they must

Be good or something’s

Terribly wrong with us

Though there are better

Judges than celebrities

What shall we say,

We’re living on the edge?

Not of adventure

But of living

Plainly if at all

Yes, I know it’s preachy

But I want you tomorrow,

People and the Earth

Everything that lives and breathes

And maybe changes

Under a too-tolerant God

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C L Couch

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Photo by JD X on Unsplash

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Boxen

(x = space)

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Boxen

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After filling boxes

Moving boxes,

Filling them again

Trying to keep empty boxes

In one place,

Filled boxes in another

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Then realizing there’s too

Little space for all

The boxes and myself,

I pause

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This isn’t any way to live

But I’m not planning (and not

moving boxes)

For a lifestyle,

Though it’s true my life

Has been in containers and

In stacks on shelves

Until it all came here

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Where without office

Space (or shelves),

Everything got bigger

As in more in the way

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So I’ve tried to push things

Near the door to show

Myself they’re on the way

Out

Even though

Except for the idle offer,

No one is showing I know of

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Which makes me sigh

Thank goodness for

The ceilings;

They’re cracking and they’re peeling

But they are up

High

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And I am thankful

For the space above,

The tall windows I can

See through yet

And in that slightly higher air

Envision

Many things,

Among them

Boxes being gone

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C L Couch

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Boxen is the world Jack Lewis and his brother Warnie imagined when they were children.

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Photo by Guillaume Bolduc on Unsplash

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True Cross

(x = space)

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True Cross

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It doesn’t matter

Anything

Going around

One by one by one

By two

Will serve

It is a symbol of rude

Death

An execution of

No one

In particular

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Ancient Egyptians,

Romans

Not-so-ancient Nazis

Executed criminals

This way,

Leaving displays

To teach

The rest

This is how much

We care

Should you deviate

From imperial

Reasoning

And the protection

We afford

The laity

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Add it

To the trash heap

On the outskirts

Of the city

Add two thieves

Say all were

Detriments

To the local good

Hung by lies,

They die

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Should any

Die in faith

Even in a final

Moment,

Knowing for the living

That goes down in

Consternation

(was the

death-bed profession

real?)

That is,

Thankfully,

Not our job to

Manage

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Two thieves might

Have gone

(their remains)

To a potter’s field

The third

Into a borrowed tomb,

Lent by faith

Itself and love

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So put two sticks

Together,

There’s a cross

True enough

For residence of

Faith

A common symbol

Even less

No superiority

To go

This way,

To carry into life

Nothing special,

Child of God

Like the one

Like anyone

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C L Couch

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Photo by David Libeert on Unsplash

Kortrijk, Belgium

The Cross

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Remembering a Song Often Sung on Sunday Night

(x = space)

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Remembering a Song Often Sung on Sunday Night

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O God, our help in ages past

Our hope for years to come

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It’s Sunday night

And the chapel service is ending

We’ll all be leaving soon

To ponder Monday morning

Then what should be done tonight

That might be done

And what will be ignored because

The sabbath time

Is measured, still

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Our shelter from the story blast

And our eternal home

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Sometimes it’s too dark

And quiet

The winter will be worse

Not to be bored or frightened

We don’t fear wolves

Or wolverines so much, anymore

Except the allegories

We encounter Monday morning

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Time like an ever-rolling stream

Bears all its sons away

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Daughters are as sons

All are borne by mortal time

Away from what we know

Into a mystery

That we believe has

A final solution

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They fly forgotten as a dream

Dies at the opening day

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The scripted dream

Cannot be retained

Maybe it’s a contract

Between imagination

And the ages

Some keep a journal

About retaining something

The week begins,

Regardless

With the night, the dawn

And then the waking hours

Everything we know

Pushing away

What subconscious rules there are

When sleeping

Plus working out in

One brief act after another

Who the playwright is

Who will not let us

Keep our lines

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Amen

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C L Couch

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Photo by Deleece Cook on Unsplash

Cambeltown, Australia

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Wishing Well

(x = space)

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Wishing Well

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If it’s for a pony,

I won’t ride it

I’ll have it in a paddock

For a friend

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If it’s for a dragon,

I shall want to ride it

We’ll go far away

And live off gold from

Its hoard

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If it’s for money,

I’ll want a hood to go with that

So that I might give anonymously

Decide for myself

Without the appeals

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It’s a world of need–

We know this–

Wishes can be

For comfort, yes

And comfort

All around

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C L Couch

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Photo by Steve Adams on Unsplash

Intercourse, PA, USA

All is Well in this backyard.

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God Only Wise

(x = space)

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God Only Wise

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God is good

Not because we say so

Not when we make God

In our image

God is not a he

Not a she

God is both and more

(you know this)

God is a spirit

(rejoice, all animals with spirit)

God arranges and then manages

All the souls

Given in residence

To us

So many things are

The other way around

We should go to holy words

To find our agendas,

Not to apply them

We should pray

Not for confirmation to our worldly

Decisions

But to find the reason

For them in the first place

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God is easy

That is not wrong

But is paradox

For how much may God require

Ask of Stephen

How much comfort will God provide

Check still waters

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C L Couch

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Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Jervis Bay Territory, Australia

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The Forest Rounding Heaven

(x = space)

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The Forest Rounding Heaven

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On my way to heaven,

I walked into a clearing in

The dark and then heard

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Music and saw shapes of

Beings gathered; then the

Clearing shone with

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Silver, moonlight having

Cleared away, it seemed, some

Heaviness in clouds;

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Then I saw they were in

Front of me, why, animals

Of all kinds: some playing

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Instruments, the rest stepping

Freely, animated as I

Perceived by the zeal of

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Knowing they were free of

Hunger and the need to

Watch over their shoulders

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One came up to me, a

Raccoon who knew my

Language and must have

x

Noticed both my wonder

And confusion—“Hello

And welcome,” said the creature,

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“We are here at last, aren’t

We?” then she or he said more,

“No longer do we have

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To eat the best we find

In trash, and we don’t have to

Worry about predators

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Or mischief from your class,

Sorry for offending”—opening

Arms to the circle,

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All the groups in pairs and

Threes and fours inside, “Please

Join us in the dance;

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Don’t worry, none of us is good

At this”;  I saw all the turns

Taken awkwardly,

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Squirrels twirling atop

Badgers, dogs embracing

Mountain lions, hares with

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Other hares, with wolves

As well; I didn’t know

How long it would take

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For all of them to tire–but

I had to move along,

Which after tries at stepping

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To magic tunes and dancing

Without shoes, I did;

I walked farther and further

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On toward what heaven

Might have for me—for

My kind and one by one

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C L Couch

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Photo by Donald Giannatti on Unsplash

Driving through the Laguna mountains as the sun rose in deep fog. This little glen had a mysterious and quiet feel to it.

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