Holy Week on Holiday Here in this quiet space, the sea sounds ease: its restless growl now soothes like curled cat’s purr. The surges striking rocks here calm and please with soft repeated strokes like smoothing fur; yet walking on the shore in wind like knives I felt the power in every foaming curl. Spray bursts and falls; the sculpted rock survives until it’s undermined by water’s swirl. This Holy Week, my part is set aside – no marathon of services to face. No words of mine need show the mounting tide of force abusing sacrificial grace. Yet cross and empty tomb will have their say; their muted message still shifts stones away. Barbara Messner 14/04/2022
Good Friday Sonnet
Good Friday Sonnet Suspended on the cross, he lived the death that looms before us all upon a hill. We all must face the halting of our breath, the mortal muscles of our heart will still. Is this the prospect cringing in our breast that makes us all complicit in the kill, resenting limits keeping life compressed, while God is bounded only by God’s will? We mortals want to bring the boundless down to meet us in the tragedy we share, not seeing that that bird’s already flown – God chose to die to meet us where we are. Forgiving of our human spite, Christ died with open arms to keep the heavens wide. Barbara Messner Easter 2018
Palm Sunday 2022
Palm Sunday 2022 Luke 19:28-44 Fickle as then this lusting crowd, equally hot for crown or cross, keen to humiliate the proud, or idolize the gilded dross. Silent you ride as shouts grow loud, chanting acclaim while you face loss. Yet without words the stones cry out, and without hands the branches wave. Deaf to such witness, walled in doubt, we leave you lonely in the grave. Though you lament, we go without things that make peace and hopes that save. Time to call out in glad surprise: “God’s visitation comes our way!” Pray for fresh eyes that won’t despise, cleansed of display and techno play. World weary souls might recognize life can arise from tombs of clay. Barbara Messner 4/04/2022
The Sacrament of Anointing Jesus
The Sacrament of Anointing Jesus Lent 5; John 12: 1-8 In every gospel such a one appears: a woman who anoints his feet or head, prophetic, or contrite with heartfelt tears, or grateful for one risen from the dead. So intimate, extravagant and brave, expressing love in that embodied way: compassion that prepared him for the grave, with touch more eloquent than words can say! When Mary poured the nard upon his feet, and knelt to wipe them gently with her hair, the perfume of that sacrament stays sweet. In gospel women, we find strength to bear those times and places where we are not free to take due place in life and ministry. Barbara Messner 30/03/2022
The Prodigal Son and the Petty One
The Prodigal Son and the Petty One Lent 4; Luke 15:11-32 Jesus still speaks to our time and our weakness: some of us spending what might have sustained us, others resenting remaining in meekness, stuck in the limits of work that restrained us. Some of us leave seeking fields that seem greener, following whims and indulging our senses. Some of us stay, growing thwarted and meaner, tending our anger and spiking the fences. Some then return from an alien nation, where in pursuit of our passions we wandered. Others take pride in determined privation, mocking the ones who have floundered and squandered. Father, you wait for us all open hearted: those who turn back, hungry, humbled, repenting, those who in bitterness blame the departed, righteous, refusing rejoicing, and venting. Those lost and strayed you will welcome to living. Those in whom faithfulness soured in persisting you will affirm, and encourage in giving, showing life loved is much more than existing. Barbara Messner 23/03/2022
Remedial Gardeners Needed
Remedial Gardeners Needed Lent 3; Luke 13:1-9 The axe may still not fall if gardeners speak out, and work to keep the trees, for Earth desires to bear. Those overwhelmed by flood or robbed of all by fire are not the ones who’ve sinned. Priorities must change. Grandkids will bear the brunt of devastation wrought by governments who fail to heed the need to act. I wonder if the tree of our society can blossom yet and fruit, if tended soulfully. For Spirit drives the flames or stormy winds of change. We thirst for deeper springs than shallow roots can find. Sometimes when floods recede the wildflowers shoot and flower. Axe hewn or half burnt stumps send out strong roots and leaves. For resurrected life stands waiting in the wings for stones to roll away, and vision to emerge. Barbara Messner 16/03/2022
On Retiring as Associate Priest in an Anglican parish
On Retiring as Associate Priest in an Anglican Parish Time now to fold and put away (well within reach on a central shelf) words I’ve been privileged to say, robes that both stirred and covered self. Tears fall in soft autumnal grief; letting them flow releases me. Tightness unwinds and brings relief; eyes look around and start to see. There on those shelves are garments tossed, jumbled aside in a pressured hour, colours once loved and crafts I’ve lost: some I discard while some might flower. Clasped in that role, I shrank and grew; cramped and controlled, but yet revealed. I moved beyond the me I knew, though there are parts of me unhealed. Now though I keenly feel the loss, something with wings is freed outside. Stone rolled aside, but still the cross questions humanity denied. Christ is still striding on ahead; I face a road half-known and strange. Other hands raise the wine and bread; time to receive, let spirit range. Barbara Messner 9/03/2022
A Lament over the City
A Lament over the City Lent 2; Luke 13:31-35 It’s the city, colluding with thrones, that still murders the prophets, and stones anyone who is sent here to save. There’s no space for Christ’s mothering care in the jostling of many who glare crying “Crucify! Crucify him!” Though our God has wide sheltering wings, who is willing to gather and cling when enticed by our secular powers? So lament, for our house will be left, and the planet itself soon bereft. Christ will weep, still intent on his way. He’ll find demons and maladies here, for we feed them and bid them come near. Will we ever be fit for his cures? O my Lord, will the time ever come, when we bless the one bearing your name, and our hearts will catch fire in your flame? Barbara Messner 8/03/2022
Temptations in the Wilderness
Temptations in the Wilderness Lent 1; Luke 4:1-15 I have walked that wilderness, breathed its gritty, brazen air. Seems our culture lodges there! Voices work on our distress, tempting us to be secure – “Wealth can happiness ensure!” Spirit dreams evaporate! Bread is conjured out of stones, our reward as worker drones. “You can master petty fate! Power will help you keep your nerve! Just don’t question who you serve!” “Then if you aspire to fame, risky stunts you can’t refuse. Time them well to make the news! Soon you’ll be a household name, guest star on a TV show. It’s not what but who you know.” He who blocked that tempting voice with God’s word would dare the cross. While we hide from pain of loss, his is the transforming choice. Let us in that wasteland find Word of God for minds half-blind. Barbara Messner 1/03/2022
The Churches of St. Moses, St. Elijah and St. Jesus on the Mountain
The Churches of St. Moses, St. Elijah and St. Jesus on the Mountain Last Sunday after Epiphany – Transfiguration; Luke 9:28-43 It is upon the mountaintop that light transfigures features that we thought we knew, and we are dazzled seeing what’s beyond as past and future balance on that peak, and in that moment God and prophets speak. We vow that vision will remain in sight, and yet the words to compass it are few. We hope we might from looming loss abscond; he leads us down to failure on the plain. Would buildings draw us to those heights again? If churches stood, would light return as bright? Would vision still be shared and counted true? When pilgrims journeyed there, would they feel conned if Moses and Elijah were stained glass, no voice-over from God though clouds still pass? We need to know we have no copyright on revelation, or on life made new. The mountain top can stir us to respond if he has challenged us to make the climb, but building walls can’t hold us in that time. Barbara Messner 22/02/2022
Barb, poet priest 