Barb, poet priest

To What Will I Compare This Genertion?

To What Will I Compare This Generation?
Pentecost 6; Matthew 11:15-19, 25-30
Our markets are not graced with lilting airs,
nor is there space or time for feet to dance.
The love-lorn pop songs wail but no-one cares;
beneath the car parks, air-starved planet pants.
So, play the music that revives the soul
and sing laments for woes we need to hear.
Oh, show us humble ways that heal the whole
and calm us when we hurry on in fear.

Humility is scarcely valued here –
the arrogant, pretentious ones hold sway.
Pursuit of wealth makes mercy disappear,
while wisdom of the ages has no say.
You call the weary, let them rest in you.
Release them from their burdens and their strain.
Your easy yoke will let their strength renew.
With gentleness, you soothe their long-held pain.

This generation loves to judge and blame.
They claim intelligence but close their minds.
The Lord of heaven and earth has here no fame;
their screen-based knowledge casts a spell that blinds.
Please teach us to discern with heart and art!
Our noise-fogged ears must learn to listen well.
Our inner child lets jaded thoughts depart
and insight strikes a note clear as a bell.
Barbara Messner 29/06/2026

Welcome and Welcoming

Welcome and welcoming
Pentecost 5; Matthew 10:40-42
Best welcome gives us space and lets us be.
“Whoever welcomes you so welcomes me,”
said Jesus. From experience he knew
that welcomers of Christians might be few.

So many now mis-read him, mistrust us –
not helped by slogan verses on a bus!
The checkout operators often say
with bright and practised interest: “How’s your day?”

“I wrote a sermon, and I offered prayer
for someone who was dying in Aged Care.”
It’s odd, but conversation after that
grows awkward and soon falls completely flat.

Mind you, to welcome prophets give us pause:
we know that what they say has fire and claws,
and profit motive claims a greater power
than all the warnings of a world gone sour.

And no-one gladly welcomes righteous ones –
too often the self-righteous carry guns.
We welcome strangers hoping to fill space
on lists of those who might maintain our place.

So welcoming and welcome need some work,
and feeling right at home is not a perk
that Jesus offered freely to his band
to keep them well contented and at hand.

Perhaps our welcoming might turn at first
to “little ones” who live with fear and thirst.
Perhaps we’d find ourselves most welcome there
with cups of water shared in mutual care.
	Barbara Messner 25 June 2020

This is an old one, but I’m fond of it, rhyming couplets and all!

Repercussions of Sarah Driving Out Hagar

Repercussions of Sarah Driving Out Hagar
Pentecost 4; Genesis 21:8-21
Do all the world’s wars
come down to this:
those who believe they are entitled 
to more for their children
because of supposed superiority
of lineage, race, religion or nation,
but whose actions are far from superior:
enslaving, dis-respecting, mis-treating others,
causing cultural loss, exile, wounds and death.

Eventually the descendants of those
forced out into an inimical wasteland,
traumatized by suffering and losses,
become expert in the weapons of war
and retaliate in accumulated grief and anger.
And so it goes on, over and over.

Can any lasting peace be found?
Only by surrendering entitlement,
laying down abusive powers,
repenting of damage done,
restoring respect and resources,
listening to the history of pain,
and accepting that we are all equal,
all beloved children of God.
	Barbara Messner 18/06/2026

For Nothing Will Be Impossible with God

For Nothing Will Be Impossible with God.
Pentecost 3; Genesis 18:1-15
Those three visitors came in the heat of the day
and old Abraham knew them: one Lord who was three.
“Rest and eat now,” he offered, “then pass on your way.”
So they ate and then promised a blessing to be.

“Where is Sara your wife? She will bear you a son.”
She was past menopause with her longings grown cold,
so she laughed though it hurt. How could age be undone
to let pleasure and birth in due season unfold?

Sara scoffed to herself but those visitors heard.
“Though you laugh at this wonder that we have foretold,
know the Lord who creates with the Spirit and Word
can bring life through your loving although you are old.”

What of us who are old in a church in decline?
Will God ask us to foster the seeds of new birth?
Will we doubt in our doorways, resisting God’s sign,
or dare offer what’s left of our nurturing worth?

After Sara gave birth with great risk and much pain,
the old patriarch thought God required sacrifice.
If our labour is hard, will what’s born be God’s gain,
or will old ways make youth pay the ultimate price?

In our time-honoured worship, the old words prevail
and the poets of now search in vain for a chance,
while our rules and traditions let fresh insights fail.
Will the Three draw us into their life-giving dance?

For the Spirit is willing and blows where it will,
Jesus teaches that mercy transcends ancient laws,
the Creator brings life out of tombs that we fill,
and no walls cause their outflowing loving to pause.
	Barbara Messner 10/06/2026

In Need of a Physician

In Need of a Physician
Pentecost 2; Matthew 9:9-13,18-26
The tax collector Matthew worked for Rome
and for his cut of takings on the side.
Co-opted by the powers that seized his home,
his soul was torn by choices that divide.

His inner conflict and his neighbours’ scorn
became the sickness Jesus sought to heal.
When he said, “Follow!” Matthew rose, new born,
left role and profit to become more real.

We sicken here at tainted use of power,
collaborators who perceive the stain.
So follow him when compromises sour;
at Jesus’ table share his mercy’s pain!

See now how Earth and poor folk bleed for years,
yet faith that dares reach out can bring relief.
If leaders turn to Jesus, urged by tears,
our children might yet live, dispersing grief.
	Barbara Messner 3/06/2026

Pentecost Again

Pentecost Again
Day of Pentecost; Acts 2:1-4
I’m no great fan of wind –
it shakes me loose like autumn leaves
until I feel unnerved, thin skinned,
and something wistful grieves.

Yet blow here, Spirit gale,
break into comfort, shake the walls
that shelter those afraid to fail
who hide when challenge calls.

I’m half afraid of flame –
too often burnt or left with ash;
with hot emotions much the same –
I flare, then quickly crash.

Let Spirit fire alight
upon my head and in my heart,
so words I write and share burn bright
where Spirit fires might start.

Blow wind so flame will flare
and lamps and candles catch the spark.
Who knows what words and art might dare?
Their light disperses dark.

We need to feel the breeze,
to light our campfires on the earth
and gather round in warmth and ease
in hopes of mirth or birth.
	Barbara Messner 18/05/2026

On that Night

On that Night
Easter 7; John 17:1-11
On the night before he died
he prayed for those given to him,
asking for their protection in God’s name, 
so that they may be one
as he and the Father are one.
He prayed that they may have eternal life
which is to know God 
and the one sent by God.

What is the oneness for which Jesus prayed?
Not agreement on dogma and creeds,
or obedient conformity to strictures,
but a caring respect for difference,
which listens attentively to the other,
shows compassion to the victimized,
lives in humility, not self-serving privilege,
values community and relates in love
to living beings and creation,
and to the mutual and outflowing love 
of God, Creator, Human One, Comforter.

What is the knowing that is eternal life?
Not a learned theological dissertation,
or even this poem, groping for meaning,
but an open searching awareness
of self, others and creation,
a sensitivity to sacred experience,
a capacity for awe and wonder,
a humble unknowing before the infinite
and a receptiveness to the Word.

On that night he underlined his teaching
in words, knowing the hour had come
for saying “Farewell!” and “Fare further!”
They would remember these parting words,
but receptiveness is always limited
by culture and agendas of ego,
as is the question of how to respond.

So he showed meaning in action.
He washed their feet in servant ministry –
a lesson in humility not often repeated –
only on Maundy Thursday in congregations
and sometimes by popes and royalty
with carefully chosen recipients.

His other defining ritual
gained more regular participation,
sharing bread and wine,
re-membering in them 
his broken body
and blood poured out.
Again understandings differ,
but there we are united 
with his continuing presence
in us and among us
and in solidarity with suffering humanity.

These actions are ways of knowing
and examples of oneness
with and beyond words.
As we serve another humbly
by listening and caring
and gather at his table
(along with the marginalized ones
he has always welcomed and empowered),
we are broken people and holy people,
one with him and knowing him,
living in God’s eternal life.
	Barbara Messner 13/05/2026

Two Sonnets – one old, one new

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

Many Dwelling Places

Many Dwelling Places
Easter 5; John 14:1-14
Creator of diversity,
you value all that’s odd and wild;
at home in vast infinity,
you house creation as your child.
Your home has multitudes of rooms
with space most generously to spare
for different ways to be expressed,
and guests to be unique yet share.

Your home is open when I knock:
the fires are burning, beds are made.
The brightness draws me to the door;
inside I find the table laid.
Can I who long for inner space
that seems to shrink at every turn
find room for you, unbounded God?
You give me space, let me discern.

You wait with wounded arms stretched wide
until I see that home is you,
and you can be at home in me
when I know life can be made new,
and see that truth takes many forms
to be at home to different eyes.
Walk through my walls and eat with me,
so I give room to love’s surprise.
Barbara Messner May 2020

This poem is an old one this week because I seem to be focused on outdoor work during this spell of Autumn warmth before it gets cold and wet. Anyway I like this one and nothing new has come to me as yet.