Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Matthew 17:1-9

Why must we pretend to know what things are
as though revelation could only be verified by knowing it ahead of time?

It is the politics of text control,
the strategy of God-containment
Self preservation. . . .

contradictions -
like this latest march of storms, the second in a week,
tripping sirens wailing
until the scudding clouds that hale the lifted warnings
reveal Bradford pears in leaf
that before were cold and still.

The story is fulfilled in its breaking.
New things sprout in woodland holds vacated by giants brought to ground with a puff.

Some among us do not care for the apocalyptic wrapper in which Christ stands
with his eerie colleagues.
We would snatch a moral from the mountain
like children pocketing cherries at a fruit stand.
But this is not our market. It is not last year's spring or festival,
sacred or otherwise.
Like those who trailed behind him,
we do not get to pick and choose between the joy and terror.

We may choose to pray, yes:
for justice -
for just uprooting -
for those whose lives give way in the path beyond our reckoning.
I have never seen a tornado,
nor been on that mountain with shining Jesus,
nor watched Elijah call down fire,
but do not doubt their nearness, when we,
like those others
stand beneath strange atmospheres,
washed in light that consumes the terror of the height.

© 2011 Andy Gay