3rd Sunday in Advent: Angels abounding …

Gabriel:

From the spectral hues of heaven
you transcend the boundary
between creation and Creator.

Shimmering like the rainbow,
you appear in our shaded sphere;
shaking our sense of safe, familiar
but broken beauty.

Your unearthly presence spans
time and eternity,
finite and infinite,
beginning and end.

With you there is
no prejudice,
no judgement,
no bias,
no spin.

Your mission:
to speak with words
of Divine truth
into the chaos
of our humanity …

To Daniel,
you foretold
the Anointed One’s sacrifice.

To Zechariah
you conveyed good news
promising new life;
leaving him
in the silence
of his disbelief.

And so, to Mary!

Surely, Gabriel,
this was a conversation
like no other.

Between those singular lines
of humble acceptance
you studied and interpreted
her silence
and understood her heart;
a new Eve, obedient and true.

Familiar as you are
with the glory and nature
of heaven,
you would wonder at this:

the kindling of Salvation
and the birth of Grace!

Returning
to the realms of mystery
you bore the answer
to Eden’s question,
“Where are you?”

And so,
Heaven overflows
in ecstatic praise:

“God Incarnate: Love’s great plan!
Joy to the world and Peace to Man!”

2nd Sunday in Advent: Snow stops pray …

“Sorry, Lord!”

I could not meet with you today
some of your snow got in the way.

Did you arrive? I’m sure it’s true
for that is what you always do.

I suppose it’s comforting to know
that you are there before I go.

Some people say there is no need
to go to church to mean the creed.

But where else can we meet with you?
unless you’ve moved to somewhere new!

It is ‘God’s House’ for goodness’ sake
from which you never take a break.

I hope the snow will clear soon
and we can all get back in tune.

To sing your carols with great joy
and celebrate the baby boy.

To hear his story, make a fuss
of Immanuel … “God with us … “

Oh, hang on a minute … so, that means …

That every place where I can be
you’re always there – waiting for me!

1st Sunday in Advent:”What kind of greatness can this be?”

 

 

We don’t seem to do mystery any more.

Apart from the odd Agatha Christie or Midsummer Murder story and their ilk which still taunt us, even when we know whodunnit.

No, I mean, we don’t appreciate true mystery. We live at a time when we can know so much at the slide of a finger across our ubiquitous touch sensitive screens. Instantaneous gratification of the mind and heart. In our high-tec, IT, world we don’t easily accept that there are limits we cannot cross …

The commercial countdown to Christmas presents us with all sorts of goodies to be consumed, in one way or other, and on-line wish-lists ensure that we are not disappointed too much on the day.

It might seem that even the Christian season of Advent is old hat as once again we prepare for the celebration of our Saviour using the traditional songs and readings we love, more or less. Where is the mystery in that?

But, Advent is full of mystery!

It is the season of expectation; of waiting; the anticipation of an arrival. Behind and beyond the traditions, the formulae, the good old recipes, there is the mystery of meaning. Why, what, who, how?

Despite (or hopefully because of) our professed faith in the Nativity and the Second Coming there is so much we don’t know and so much that is beyond our knowledge. We can’t enter this season thinking that we know the end of the story because it’s still being written … in us!

We don’t control Christmas anymore than we can control the weather.

As familiar as Advent is it is far more than our celebration, our meditation and our participation. It is the reminder, at the start of the Christian year, that something bigger has invited us to share in perfect love, joy and peace and to understand the mystery of oneness beyond our human limitations and borders.

It invites us to tentatively or wholeheartedly worship God, through the Person of Jesus, and wonder at his mystery and greatness in becoming small for us …

Happy Advent!

Cân Afonydd

From mountains of Eryri and Preseli’s ancient hills;
down soft slopes of Pumlumon spring the gentle, laughing rills.

Born of summer showers and winter snow and rain
their destiny: descending, to join the sea again.

Nentydd, isafonydd; brooks and tributaries flow
to ever swelling rivers, meandering and slow.

But some the coalfields entered, cymoedd stained so black and sore.
There’s healing now: the valleys stream with clarity once more.

As with the cyclic seasons our histories come and go.
The rivers fall, incessant, to oceans vast they flow.

Transcending our traditions, inspiring ways and means
and then, in tidal reaches, renewing hopes and dreams.

It’s here that is established their heritage and fate,
this meeting of the land and sea; a kiss of love, not hate.

For here humanity has stood, through countless ages long,
striving at the waters’ edge to sing the rivers’ song.

“Cân Afonydd: canu’n byw, rhwng mynydd, dir a môr;
cylchoedd natur, gras y nef; molianwn nawr ein Iôr!”

Horizons – Gorwelion

Enlli and lleyn

My eyes are strangely drawn
to distant Ynys Enlli;
focus of fearless Pilgrims,
repose of sleeping Saints,
ageless witness to centuries of faith and hope …

And then, along Y Llŷn,
to the mountains of the north;
the rippling giants of y Gogledd
serenely waiting for Idris to be chaired again …

O, magnificent sweep of Cardigan bay,
so calm your surface appears
yet, teeming below, are
creatures of another world …

… occasionally some break through …

with a splash and a wave
they sneak a look at us,
clothed humans. Then,
having satisfied their curiosity,
quickly return to their natural depths.

Finally, with hiraeth I gaze
at that threadlike stroke of watercolour
where sky and sea caress
with a tranquillity that belies
the swell and the storm …

… what a mystery you are!

The end of our sight,
but not our understanding.
We are aware of the treasures hidden
beyond your space-time curve.

If not our limit,
then you are our challenge:
a hope for one more adventure
before our life-long journey’s end,
or yet …

… a glorious new beginning!

 

© 2017 Graham Oakes: Bwythyn y Banc.

 

Stories on the Street

This was written following a post on FaceBook about a girl who was homeless because of circumstances which were quite shocking …

They take longer to write than to read them
but for most we just don’t have the time
to repay the hard work and the effort,
these authors of prose and of rhyme.

A book may be full of surprises,
unless we skip to the last page,
but living is harder than reading
whatever our income or age.

And what of those human-life stories
developed in mind, flesh and bone;
crouching by shops and by cafés,
so close, and yet, so alone.

We can’t judge a book by its cover.
We can’t judge a child by its name.
We can’t judge a beggar by looking.
We really can’t judge and lay blame.

Forgive me for not taking interest
in your story and how it began;
let’s finish this chapter together,
I’ll help you however I can.

It may be only a letter,
or just a word in the right place.
A sentence, constructed to help you
with friendship: a blessing and grace.

I pray that the ending is happy,
creative, fulfilling and true.
I pray that your story will make us
take time to serve others like you.

(c) 2017 Graham Oakes

Inspired by Sylvan Mason’s FB post

Beyond the Stillness

This was written during the RS Thomas Literary Festival
at Aberdaron, June 2017.

Ancient stones,
for centuries soaked
in the prayers,
poems and praise
of priest and people,
high and low,
rich and poor.

And here sit I,
with eyes closed,
contemplating nature’s crescendo
of light and sound.
I reflect on those distant echoes
of pilgrims’ footstep
forging their way through
to Ynys Enlli.

Is this the promised peace?

The pinnacle of Christian experience?
To retreat into wordless, sightless spirituality
existing only in the now,
the here,
the me?

Outside, mighty breakers pound the sea walls
driven by a predestined wind
which rattles and shakes
the old west door …

There is a deeper ocean
which, with its ebb and flow
of presence and promise,
beckons me to rise up,
brave the shingle,
enter the swell
and be carried,
who knows where,
on the wind and tide
of eternal love.

© 2017 Graham Oakes
St. Hywyn’s, Aberdaron.

“Your Kingdom come …”

I confess that I have succumbed to commenting recently on a couple of FaceBook posts related to the coming election. However, the national conversation as expressed on  news channels and social media depresses me deeply. I find it so difficult to discern what is true and worthy of my ‘vote’. There seem to be deep faults on all political sides and things are complicated by Brexit and the fear of an unknowable future…

As a Christian I find it hard to participate in the current debate which is so polarised and subject to reactionary and discriminatory language.  Any ‘reasonable’ or ‘faith-focused’ comment is often derided or worse.

The familiar ‘Lord’s Prayer’ contains the hope of a society which is based on love, forgiveness, compassion, truth, justice and a willingness to believe in something beyond our flawed humanity … These are values hard to detect in social and news media. And yet, the recent acts of terror have revealed an underlying goodness in the face of pain and horror …

So, this is my prayer for myself and for our society as I try to keep, what is for me, a more realistic perspective.

“Your Kingdom come, Lord.”

… in all our political confusion
and communal disorder;
our hopes and fears
maligned by half-truths,
suspect statistics and lies.

Respect disintegrates
and there is a desperate need
to win an argument, or
make an opportunistic point,
at any cost.

Anti-social media is
filled with hateful and
often obscene messages
spreading a deep and
dangerous prejudice
within and throughout
our splintered society.

Promises and oaths
are made with suspect
substance or conviction.
And yet, against the darkness
of real terror and pain,
there is the warming glow
of human compassion.

We must vote and
do so according to
our personal conscience
and understanding,
without fear or favour.

This is our heritage,
our privilege,
our responsibility.

And afterwards?

“Your Kingdom come, Lord!”
Teach us your better way …