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RAP: Poets, Pastors, and Holy Places
L.L. here, with Random Acts of Poetry—reading a marvelous little book by M. Craig Barnes, called The Pastor as Minor Poet. It’s got me thinking, conversely, that the poet could be minor pastor.
Barnes notes, after giving an example of a woman with a tough workweek, “She may be hoping that her pastor will provide more tips or strategies for holding together the competing demands on her life. Worse yet, she may come to church seeking only some spiritual entertainment that will distract her from the insanity of her week. But what she really needs is a vision of the holiness of her life, as uncontrollable as it will always be.”
To do this, the pastor must begin “by inviting [her] to remember the old yearnings for beauty, delight, and wild adventure.” And this, says Barnes, is the “work of poets.”
Not many of us are pastors, but a handful of us are playing with the role of poet. Is not our job also to provide visions of the holiness of life? Are we not also attempting to invite remembrance of beauty, delight, even the power of grief? In so doing, we embody the unexpected role of pastor by “making people more aware of what they feel already, and therefore teaching them something about themselves” (Eliot).
At this point, notes Barnes, “the holy conversation is carried on by the Holy Spirit, who does the work of bringing people back to life.”
This week, I found a poem that pastors our souls by making us aware of odd tensions that plague each of us…fear and comfort, threat and safety. Amber, acting as poet-pastor, set these tensions in an ordinary hallway, thus stirring up the holiness of a common place…
Amber’s A Hall Gathering
If the thunder woke us, the antenna waving lightning-invitations,
the tin drumming under wide oaks, and the gate
flapping in little screams, we would pile in the hallway, pillowed,
lacing arms, gown silk slipping uncomfortably on vinyl tile floor.
Everything held its breath. The hall of an old home
that could rattle with a sneeze was wide-eyed silence,
a cloud hovering, warm gathering, mass
crescendo of terrific imagination.
Yet they never touched down on us, only fear,
only warnings, only the heavy learned love
of abandon, of arms, and of heart-banging dark.
Amber also writes at InCourage, an awesome new inspirational site from Hallmark/Dayspring.
Next week’s poetry prompt: join us on the porch (or deck or yard or porch-past or porch-wished-for). Post your offering by Thursday, August 20, and leave your link in my comment box.
RAP Participants
Monica’s Shoe Rack
Joelle’s Asphalt Halls
A Simple Country Girl’s Hall
Mom2Six’s Connecting
Lance’s Altered Jesus
Liz’s The Hallway
Yvette’s Dark and Dank
Heather’s Hallways
Amber’s A Hall Gathering
nAncY’s The Hall
Jim’s Sanctuary of Nothing
Ann’s Read the Writing on the Wall
Deb’s Great Hall Presents
LL's Porch
Emily's Hall Hell Redemption
Laura's Down the Hall
Wendy's At the Corner of Now and Then
Photo and post by L.L. Barkat.
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