Barb, poet priest

Feeding, Healing, Sailing

Feeding, Healing, Sailing
Pentecost 10; John 6:1-21
Fish and loaves multiplied
cannot feed jaded lives.
Bellies full, vacant souls
ransacked by affluence,
will not seek Jesus out
on a hill, by a lake,
will not reach praying hands:
“Teacher, feed! Wise One, heal!”

When the storms overwhelm,
and this Earth, like a boat,
balance lost, starts to sink,
darkened eyes, fixed on fear,
will not see Jesus walk.
Only say, “Come, Lord! Come!”
Calm will flow, minds will clear,
and safe shores might appear.
	Barbara Messner 19/07/2024

Sacred Dance

Sacred Dance
Pentecost 7, 2 Samuel 6, 1-5, 12-20, Mark 6:14-29
I have witnessed sacred dancing
that has stirred my very being:
wordless meaning that’s enhancing
prayer inspired by what I’m seeing –
spirit stirring, feelings freeing.

Yet our mainstream church disdains it,
though the censure is unspoken:
formal liturgy restrains it
into gestures that are token,
careful that no power is woken.

With exuberance, King David
danced before the Lord uncovered,
clad in nothing but an ephod.
Scornful wife at window hovered,
voiced past angers rediscovered.

When Herodias and daughter
used seductive dance, entrancing
king to order Baptist’s slaughter,
sex and politics were prancing,
poles apart from sacred dancing.

Yet religious fears have banished
all that dance might offer to us.
Shame in bodies has not vanished.
We’re unsure if what flows through us
might seduce us or renew us.

All the arts aspire to power
that can shake us or remake us.
Spirit gifts, abused, will sour;
linked to God, they stir and wake us.
Who can know where that might take us?
	Barbara Messner 7/07/2021

Shake Off the Dust and Move On

Shake Off the Dust and Move On
Pentecost 7; Mark 6:11
If you find no welcome there
and your words seem wasted air,
shake off the dust and move on.
Don’t despair if they don’t care;
turn your back on their stony stare.
Shake off the dust and move on.

If your joy in being dies,
captured by restraints and ties,
shake off the dust and move on.
Don’t suppress your weary sighs;
your reluctance may well be wise.
Shake off the dust and move on.

Hard won insight names defeat,
offers dignified retreat.
Shake off the dust and move on.
Roads reach out, attract your feet;
fresh hope makes your departure sweet.
Shake off the dust and move on.

Dawn will rise beyond this wall;
restlessness foreshadows call.
Shake off the dust and move on.
Wider vision follows fall;
wiser soul will make use of all.
Shake off the dust and move on.
	Barbara Messner 27/06/2024

Daughter, Your Faith Has Made You Well

Daughter, Your Faith Has Made You Well
Pentecost 6, Mark 5:21-43
She touched his cloak, believing she would heal.
The bleeding stopped; she knew that she was free.
His power went forth, a flow that he could feel.
“Who touched my clothes?” he said and turned to see.
She found the strength to own what she had done;
her honest courage helped to make her whole.
He called her daughter, said her faith had won
her body’s healing and her peace of soul.
How many women who have much to bear -
some form of leaking life, and fear and shame -
inspired by her example, learn to dare,
reach out to tap his power, and healing claim?
He calls them daughters, says their wholeness starts
with daring faith and honest, grateful hearts.
	Barbara Messner 26/06/2024

Who then is this?

Who then is this?
Pentecost 5, Mark 4:35-41
“Who then is this?” we ask.
Do winds and waves obey
a being set apart
with words we dare not say,
not even when we pray?

“Who then is this?” we ask.
A man so spent and worn
he cannot help but sleep,
although the skies are torn
and there may be no dawn.

“Who then is this?” we ask.
A person steeped in trust
who dares to stay at rest
as wind and waters thrust,
and fear burns fierce as lust.

“Who then is this?” we ask.
Though waking to distress
as friends and storm wear out,
he knows when more is less,
and what he must address.

“Who then is this?” we ask.
He stands and says: “Be still!”
The storm reverts to calm.
His peace flows out to fill
clear space beyond our will.
	Barbara Messner 15/06/2021

Changing our Point of View

Changing our Point of View
Pentecost 4, 1 Samuel 15:34-16:13, 2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17, Mark 4:26-34
For anyone in Christ
a new creation calls
in love that urges change:
to walk by faith not sight,
to live not for ourselves
but with the risen Christ,
to lift our blinkered gaze
from human points of view.

The old has passed away:
the world no longer spins
on axis of myself,
my efforts and my worth,
priorities and goals,
achievements and control.
The Lord looks on the heart;
our preconceptions fail.

So Jesse’s older sons
were not anointed ones.
Appearance, stature, age
did not determine choice.
The youngest shepherd boy
would be the future king,
endowed with Spirit power
though shadows lurked within.

For God can choose a child,
or be a homeless babe.
The smallest seed grows high
so birds can nest in shade.
We can’t control or know
how earth will bring to bear
the harvest that’s a gift
to reap with thankful prayer.
	Barbara Messner 9/06/2021

Home not Home

Home not Home
Pentecost 3, Mark 3:19b-35
Then he went home; perhaps he hoped
for quiet time with family,
affection free of fresh demands,
a sheltered space of privacy
that might restore his energy.

But crowds came, urgent in their need,
and sought him out. The streets were lined,
and villagers, resentful, said:
“Young carpenter has lost his mind!”
Familiarity is blind.

Perhaps his brothers felt ashamed,
or thought (for his own good!) they must
restrain him, take him out of sight,
and silence him until the dust
had cleared, the town no longer fussed.

I wonder what his mother thought?
She’d be upset when scribes accused
her son of using demon power,
and fearful that he’d be abused
by those whose status was misused.

The Spirit that set spirits free
they called “unclean” in jealous spite.
He questioned whether they blasphemed
to be so closed to Spirit sight
while claiming they discerned the right.

His family were left outside –
he claimed instead a wider kin
of those who heard with open mind,
not limited by class or skin,
but linked by Spirit born within.
	Barbara Messner 2/06/21

What if Jesus Says “Eat!”

What if Jesus says “Eat!”
Pentecost 2; Mark 2:23-3:6
Long held rules seem to say:
“Don’t let hunger prevail,
though you walk in ripe fields!
Keep the Sabbath rites pure!”
Then though Jesus says: “Eat!”,
Pharisees lurk in wait
to accuse and conspire,
using law as their power.
Can we let Christ be Lord
of the Sabbath as well?

Are we governed by rules
that he might set aside?
We are told not to stray
from the bounds of one book,
though we long to be fed
with what’s relevant now,
and the Spirit plants food
that our hunger can’t touch.
Do the rules hold us back?
Is the Sabbath for us?

Are we hampered in strength,
like the man’s withered hand,
while the Christ in our midst
says: “Come forward! Be healed!”?
“In our worship,” he asks,
“is it lawful to save?”
Then he bids us stretch out
so the healing can work.
Will we eat and be whole,
or seek safety in rules?
	Barbara Messner 25/05/2024

Nicodemus at Night

Nicodemus at Night 
Trinity Sunday; John 3:1-17
Then Nicodemus came by night –
a man of law-trained, literal mind
replete with Scripture he could cite.
He knew his peers would be unkind,
so sure of ways they thought were right,
but he must see what he would find.

Perhaps this Jesus came from God -
some words rang true, he’d seen the signs,
but what he heard this night was odd,
and blurred the clarity of lines
to which he’d always given the nod,
assured by what the law defines.

What might it mean to be reborn?
His reason would not give that room,
and challenged, he replied with scorn:
“A second time in mother’s womb?”
Yet hope was stirred like wind at dawn.
If God is love, the world might bloom.

“How can this be?” A longing doubt
unsettles all he thought he knew.
Sometimes like him we twist about,
and try to test what might be true,
but then God’s love will call us out,
and Spirit birth a life made new.
	Barbara Messner 26/05/2021