Altar to an Unknown God
Easter 6; Acts 17:22-31
Perhaps an altar to an unknown god
would not be solid slabs of stone or wood
that brute force wrestled from the gaping sod
and carved with symbols little understood.
Perhaps some legs of driftwood, bare and white,
would hold a sheath of woven bark and grass,
or panel rescued from a ruined site,
with stubs of candles in discarded glass.
There one like Paul might find the linking word
to reach these devotees of all things new,
show them their truth, disguised in the absurd;
in the unknown, reveal what’s always true:
Creator who transcends each human shrine,
the Human One whose life is shared like wine.
Barbara Messner May 2017 (altered 2020)
Lift Up Your Hearts
Ascension Day
A stained-glass window in a church I knew
showed faces gazing up at two bare feet
that dangled from a cloud, as though he flew,
dog-paddling upwards, earthly task complete,
and though I think that heaven’s not up there,
but somehow co-exists with here and now,
perhaps the uplift of the sky and air
might carry him beyond our what and how,
for surely he deserves a gentle flight,
who bore through death the weight of Earth’s despair,
so let him float in clouds that reach the light,
where wind and sunshine shape a buoyant stair,
and if his cloud should darken into rain,
let him be washed with freshness after pain.
Barbara Messner 6/05/2026
Barb, poet priest 