Here’s a brief poetry exercise for you to do:
– Take a moment to read the poem in the far-right column. It’s a poem I wrote in 2007 titled “Mundane.”
– Now, read the poem again. I’ve developed a habit of always reading poems twice.
– So, what do you think? – or better yet, what do you feel, or notice, or wonder?
OK, that’s the poetry exercise; we’ll come back to it later.
Over the past several months this column has had an ongoing topic of the pastors delving into the interplay in our faith between action and formation, between living out our faith and nurturing our faith. Identifying and addressing that interplay – which sometimes feels more like a conflict, and sometimes feels more like just one or the other – has struck a chord with many at Hope Church and has been a point of discussion in many settings in our church life.
One of the ways that I have come to see some things about myself in this interplay and tension that exists with action and nurture is that I’m a person who can tend to focus more on thinking and analysis than on reflecting and feeling. Is that something any of you can relate to?! I tend to gravitate toward analyzing faith, or analyzing an issue, and when I’ve done that analysis then I have a sense of being settled about what I believe and what I will do.
And that all works out pretty well for me, until I run into some matters of life and faith that don’t lend themselves so neatly to my analysis and definitive action.
I wasn’t particularly aware of that in myself for a long time, but at a point in my life poetry found me and gently demanded that I pay attention to things like mystery and feeling, images and ambiguity, lament and hope.
Poetry offered me something I didn’t know I was missing, and now it is a lifeline for me of exploring the places in me that need to be heard, healed, confronted, felt, nurtured. When I write poetry, I am surprised by what emerges – not because it is good, but because it says things that I wasn’t aware were in me. When I read poetry, I am often amazed – amazed by the creativity of humanity and by the way a poem seems to describe and recognize me.
So with all that said, what about the poem I’ve offered here? I gave you a chance to read it and to feel and wonder about it. Whatever surfaced in you is good and I’d love to hear about it. Now it’s my turn.
I shared this poem because it is an Advent/Christmas poem. I didn’t know that when I wrote it 10 years ago, but it is. It is an Advent poem because it gives voice to a deep ache about all of the brokenness in life and a deep longing for wholeness. It is a poem set to the tune of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” It is a Christmas poem because it dares to hope, dares to believe. The birth of Christ is not quaint or naïve or wishful thinking; rather, the Incarnation opens me to audacious things like hope and beauty and joy. It is a poem set to the tune of “Joy to the World.”
How can it be both? Well, that’s just what we’ve been delving into these past months, isn’t it? I invite you in this season to lean into space for longing and yearning; I invite you to lean into joy and hope; I invite you to read a poem and to write one.
And as you, I, we, do so, then also listen for where the Spirit is leading and calling into the seasons ahead. It may be a calling to make some good things in the world seem mundane.
In Christ’s Peace,
~Pastor Gordon
MUNDANE
it is the
thrill
of the mundane
that I long for…
the same old news
of a child
treasured and fed;
the commonplace sight
of a missile
rusted from dis-use;
the assumption
of a coral reef
thriving undisturbed;
the plodding repetition
of lives
joined in love;
the yawn
when air is sweet
and water pure;
the restful sleep
that fills
once anxious hours;
the rut
of faith
that serves life;
the boredom
of peoples
living in peace;
…it is the
thrill
of the mundane
that I long for