The Poet and His Congregation to Christ: Our Beloved and Our Sweet Communion (John 6:35-59)

4/13/23

A POEM ABOUT COMMUNION. This my my favorite poem about the holy sacrament of communion–the intimacy, sweetness, and security of the body and blood of Christ. Enjoy “The Poet and His Congregation to Christ” by Walter Wangerin, Jr.

Come, touch my lips, my Lord, caress

With flesh the flesh of me;

One mortal morsel and my “Yes!”

Shall make me one with thee.

Come, kiss thee into me.

_____

Suffuse my breathing and my soul

With sweetness of the wine;

No blood runs hotter nor more whole,

No scent more sweet, than thine.

I burn, thy breath in mine.

_____

Then hold me, Christ, a hard embrace,

The holy arms around me!

Hold, hold me in your body’s grace;

Your Church’s unity

Is my security.

_____

“The Lord be with you.” “And with you”–

What salutations here!

But since he melts into us two,

We can, nor do we fear,

Breathe out such spells, my dear.

_____

Oh, all my people, laugh with me!

We have been loved by Christ–

We move, one nuptial company,

His bride by sacrifice,

From here to paradise.

Oh, what a wedding feast will greet

The bride and pride of Christ!

11/5/24

Kernels of gold sowed in sweat. Embodied husks designed to protect. Multicolored grain, a heavenly harvest. The plague in the Garden— one locust started— the Reaper ransoms to forget.   A rotted ear only hears the screams of its own dissection, an eternity of introspection. Rows of corn restless with guilt. The cup of wrath…

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10/18/24

Christmas for Ginny has always been the most important day of the year. It’s a magical day when anything is possible, like the unprecedented miracle of God taking on human form; it’s when a supernatural star led the Magi to the infant God-man, lying helplessly in a symbolic feeding trough; and it’s when men met God face-to-Face in a humble manger to worship him and feed from him. Ginny loves Christmas for both its majestic beauty and historical truth. She understands, however, that this sacred day has been tainted with folklore and commercialism, but experience and wisdom enable her to see these gilded traditions as a way to bridge the gap between the sacred and the profane. For Ginny, a gift for someone special on Christmas is a reminder of the greatest Gift ever given. So naturally Ginny wants to give Brad something special for Christmas. But she, too, finds herself without two pennies to rub together. Then, suddenly, an idea flashes across her mind that makes her eyes water, feeling the internal warmth that comes with giving wholeheartedly.

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10/17/24

Ten years ago, my parents, Robert and Sheila, were killed in a car accident on Christmas Day. A head on collision with a drunk driver took them away from me. It turned out that both front airbags were defective. They were coming back from looking at Christmas lights. My seven-year-old daughter was in the back seat. She was not wearing her seatbelt. She was thrown from the wreckage. She died instantly.

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