Small Revolutions

This morning you woke
from a dream full of revolution,
fireworks and Technicolor death,
where zombies danced with angels

in a macabre minuet,
fueled by marimbas and flamingo guitars.
Torches lined the ballroom walls,
their blue and yellow flames

casting shadows, madcap puppet shows
on the walls of red felt wallpaper.
A bhuddist monk sipped champagne,
his orange robes shimmering

as he sang the call to worship,
his tenor voice wavering
in middle eastern rhythms
that meshed like magic

with the Spanish orchestra.
Too much. Far too much for your frail mind
to take in, this dream;
layer upon layer of beautiful contradictions,

a celebration of warriors and winos,
of Puritan preachers and prostitutes
of psychedelic formality,
all gathered around a storybook figure,

the picture of Jesus that hung
in your staid Sunday School room,
his eyes no longer empty and staring,
but sparkling with the secret

he shares to any who would listen.
His soft voice barely heard over the din,
yet echoing in the night to any
who would lean into him, stop, and listen

to his dulcet voice
with’s impossible truth:
“You, yes you, are loved.”
A phrase so startling, you woke

from your dream full of revolution.
About this poem.

The Lenten word, as supplied by the United Methodists “Rethink Church” initiative was “dream”. I had had a fairly bazaar dream just two nights ago, one so strong parts of it are still echoing in my head.

Dreams show up in the bible fairly often, and when they do, they almost always foster some kind of personal revolution. God sometimes speaks to us and directs us in ways that make no sense. And yet, with the hindsight of history, we see how each of those small revolutions changed our history and our faith.

I’m not an advocate that we run our life by following every dream we have. That would be madness, particularly for those of us who have pretty bazaar dreams on a regular basis. But we cannot close our minds to the possibility that a dream could be God speaking. We need to be open and listening there, as we do in every moment of our lives.

Tom

PS – the painting is by a friend and fellow artist, Ruth Sauer. It was a gift to me for some work I did for her a while back and I absolutely love it’s triumphant aura.

About these Lenten Poems

My friend Cathy Benson is on to something. Instead of doing without for Lent, she is doing MORE with a prayer project that is thoughtful and caring.

Giving up something for Lent is a church tradition, not a biblical command. It was designed to get our minds and hearts right as we approach the holy week and Easter. It’s a good spiritual discipline.

But I think a spiritual discipline of doing something more is also a powerful way to prepare our hearts for Easter. The Methodists, through their “Rethink Church” initiative have come up with a photographic way to do this (see below). I am going to add a poem with each image for the lent season to help prepare myself. Feel free to glom on to the idea, visit the blog and read, or share your thoughts and prayers.