An aviary gloss on Mark 14:72

We are the cocks crowing – we clergy.
It doesn’t really matter
what we say in all the sermons
we plan so long and shape so carefully
to inspire, not to offend,
and to illuminate the old stories.

We need not preen the liturgy –
the really eloquent prayers
(depending on our tradition and style)
either collects of the ages
or some ad lib collectings
of a congregation’s joys and concerns,

or our beaky embodied sacrament –
a baby in our arms
or a cup lifted over our heads.

We are the pulpit roosters,
poultry preaching something so holy
it scratches up
the barnyards of our own lives.

But mostly what we say doesn’t matter
so long as it is the second crowing
and even one person hears
the words
of whatever it is that is a betraying
and stumbles out to weep
and finds the way back to love —

We do not need to toss our Easter feathers so,
but dawn is coming –
and we know we dare not be silent.

Rooster_Crowing_in_the_Morning_inspiringwallpapers.net_-730x400

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to An aviary gloss on Mark 14:72

  1. Beautiful, beautiful. Thanks so much.

  2. rezrevres says:

    A total apropos rendering of the passage, which regardless of denomination should be considered as compulsory reading for everyone who regularly occupies a pulpit. Less fluffing and preening along with more metaphorical “breaking down to wept” in sincerity, might help to stem the outflow of people from our churches. Thanks Maren.

  3. Maren says:

    I discovered this interpretation from looking in a mirror.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s