Reclaiming Scripture

This is a sermon about the Bible, but before you listen, read the following poem written by Samantha Butler, a part of our Eucharist community:

You are an old friend, aren’t you,

An old friend with many arms,

Bound and brushed off, and pulled in all directions, and contorted,

A feat of human imagination, now ammunition, now a balm of honey and milk.

Can I weave the threads of the ocean,

Drip by drip in a long line of wet molecules,

As they firm, rigid, a promise for the oppressed,

Creatures of the deep slipping out and splashing

All at the risk of swallowing me whole?

Can I pull the stars into a recipe that calls for your type of dust,

Explosive dust; history and presence and good, all in one?

Can I watch a man rise from his seat, sandals dropping one by one into the ground,

As he ascends into the sky?

Son of earth, mother of us all, red juice dripping down your chin,

Can I hold your hand as you walk out of the vines?

You are an old friend aren’t you.

It is better if I sit back and watch you from here,

And listen, and wonder.