One of my favorite parts of our Quiet Communion service has been the inclusion of poetry. Quiet Communion is the evolutionary successor of X Church, our contemplative service we used to offer on Wednesday nights. As we came out of the pandemic and began to figure out how to bring back contemplative worship, it made sense to me to shift it to Sunday evenings, and it’s been doing well in that 5:00 pm timeslot at St. Ignatius.  The idea to include poetry came from the Celtic service that an Episcopal church in Richmond offers weekly.  

I have always liked poetry, but haven’t had the time to read (or write) as much as I’d like. I have to be in a poetry mood to really engage with it, and in the mad rush of most days that just doesn’t work. Since today got away from me, I want to share two poems with you that I have used in the service, one very old, and one new. They are wildly different, but both have much to offer those who have some time to sit with the words and read, and then reread them. Let’s start with the old.  

This poem is the one I used this past Sunday. It was written by Clare of Assisi in the 13^th Century to her friend, Agnes of Prague. In my reflection Sunday, I asked what we might be holding, placed into our hands by God and what we might do with it. That may not be what Clare was raising with Agnes, but it worked for me. What do you think?

What you hold, may you always hold.
What you do, may you do and never abandon.
But with swift pace, light step,
     unswerving feet,
     so that even your steps stir no dust,
go forward
     securely, joyfully, and swiftly,
on the path of prudent happiness,
     believing nothing
     agreeing with nothing
     which would dissuade you from this resolution
     or which would place a stumbling block for you on the way,
so that you may offer your vows to the Most High
in the pursuit of that perfection
to which the Spirit of the Lord has called you.

The second poem is one I used last month, written in the last few years by Brad Aaron Modlin, a creative writing professor at The University of Nebraska. The poem is entitled, “What you Missed that Day you were Absent from Fourth Grade”. Brad gave permission for us to use it, and it is readily available online. See what speaks to you:

Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen
to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas,

how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer. She took
questions on how not to feel lost in the dark

After lunch she distributed worksheets
that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s

voice. Then the class discussed falling asleep
without feeling you had forgotten to do something else—

something important—and how to believe
the house you wake in is your home. This prompted

Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing
how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks,

and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts
are all you hear; also, that you have enough.

The English lesson was that I am
is a complete sentence.

And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation
look easy. The one that proves that hundreds of questions,

and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking
for whatever it was you lost, and one person

add up to something.

Wouldn’t it be nice if so many meaningful subjects that take a lifetime to learn were taught early on in our journey? Or, that finding meaning was so easily contained in an elementary school curriculum? I have enjoyed diving into poetry, new and old, to hear the whisper of the Spirit through words that may  not have even been composed for contemplation of God’s movement. It has added to my appreciation for a different way of meeting God. I hope you’ll come try Quiet Communion for yourself at some point.

Tom+

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Photo Credits: Clare of Assisi, Public Domain; Book Jacket, © Brad Aaron Modlin.