184 - May They All Be One (John 17:20)

May They All Be One (John 17:20)
By Stephen H. Brown

The portly people
Pushing, shoving,
Singing, rushing,
Sulking,
Shaking hands,
Smiling, hidden
Behind jovial carnations.
Then settling in
For a quiet nap
Lulled by the melodious tones
Of sonorous organs,
Cherubic choirs
And black - robed eloquence.
Yet waiting
In the silence
Of so many sounds.

Hungry people
With yearning hearts and fertile wombs
Giving birth to death
Amid the too - filled tombs
Of souls aflame with longing.
Starved for bread
And famished for love,
Fainting, kneeling,
Shaking, begging,
Praying
For a flower to bloom
In their empty stomachs
And barren lives.

Confused inmates
In the Old Folks' Homes

Stephen H. Brown is the minister of the Cross Roads Presbyterian Church, Mebane, North Carolina. A graduate of Duke University and Yale Divinity School, his interests include ministry in smaller churches, liturgical reform, Christian education, and the relation between vocation and faith. He has published articles in Liturgical Review, The Journal of Pastoral Care, and with his wife Carolyn is co - author of Do - it - Yourself Church School Curriculum (1980).

185 - May They All Be One (John 17:20)

And prison cells,
Enduring their bitter hells
Of our common human making,
Quaking with the passage of time
Which knows no end
Or beginning,
Listening always for the sound of the key,
The word that frees them
From their chains of bondage.

Homeless wanderers
And the captive poor,
Shut out, rejected,
Accused, suspected,
Unwelcome strangers
With no decent place
To lay their heads,
In constant danger,
Refugees from despair
Looking for a promised land.

The shattered ones,
Broken in heart or body or spirit,
Clutching at straws,
So exhausted by the pain of living
That nothing is left
For love or giving.
Unable to bear any more guilt,
Too tired to shoulder another demand,
Burnt - out and desperate for comfort,
Searching for someone who understands.

The lame and possessed,
Pleading for a healing touch,
Yet obsessed,
Both loving and hating the demons within,
Wanting a good shepherd so very much
That they miss the prophet's freeing call,
And in place of a cure accept a crutch.

Those who cannot see or hear,
Deafened by desire,
Blinded by fear,
Defending their castles
Built on the sand
With deeper moats and,
Oblivious to storm and wind and tide,

186 - May They All Be One (John 17:20)

Blithely disregarding the weather
Even as the mushroom clouds gather.

All wait together,
Without and within
The walls and stable stalls
Of God's holy temple,
For the word that speaks
And the song that sings
In spirit and in truth.

And in the waiting
New life is born,
In the manger and on the cross.
Smiles reveal
Instead of hide,
Carnations bloom
In spite of pride,
The tomb is emptied,
The stomach filled,
The cells pour forth
Their victims healed,
The strangers welcomed,
The broken made whole
The lame are cured
And the demon - possessed given back their souls,
Ears are unstopped,
Sight is restored,
And we are called forth,
Embracing death and life,
The resurrected body
Of a nail - scarred Lord.