A SARCOPHAGUS AND THE SINNERS

Tomb of St. Francis

Roman Brandstaetter was a Polish poet (1906-1987). The poem that follows was published in a collection of poems entitled Francis and Clare edited by Janet McCann and David Craig. I felt a need to return to this volume of poetry and it is curious that this poem found me after two posts consisting of excerpts from another Polish author, Sholem Asch.

Two parts of the readings from the previous Sunday's scripture readings struck me as meaningful when I heard them.

"keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter of faith" Heb 12:2    and Jesus' words,
“I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!" Lk 12:49

Am I allowing Jesus to perfect my faith? Is there a fire ablaze in my heart? Am I dousing it out or fueling it with love?

Our poet appeals to St. Francis to help us set our hearts on fire.

A SARCOPHAGUS AND THE SINNERS

We came to you from afar,
Because we want to be good,
O Sarcophagus.

We seldom manage.
Perhaps never.

Evil torments us
Like black goats.

We torture the people
We love.

We wrong our neighbor
Whom we want to help.

Behind our every sacrifice
Stands egoism
Like a skinny prompter.

One beautiful poem
Is more important to us
Than a good deed.

That's why we speak to you
By way of crying,
O Sarcophagus.

A long examination of conscience
Can only be told in tears.

Sail on the brackish waters of our tears
Saint Francis.

Sail on a crusade
Against our sins,
O singing Middle Ages.

Sail, sail,
You bird song.

Can a new man be born
From a tear?

Create us from our tears,
Create us from our cries,
From our stormy cries,
Dear Saint Francis.

Your sarcophagus reposes
On our prayers
As on expectant columns.
                  Roman Brandstaetter

A Miner's Discovery

It has been a while since my last post. The last year has been busy. Hip replacement and cancer diagnosis ... prostate. There has been some good stuff. Two trips to California to visit my 97 year old mother who continues to defy old age's persistent attempts to debilitate. I should have imitated her more closely. I've also completed a two year study in spiritual direction that has provided me with the needed skills to help others progress in their personal spiritual life.

In my final days of study at the retreat center I came across a nice little book of poetry. It seems as though most of the meaningful things in my life happen accidentally. This volume of poetry about Francis and Clare is one of these accidental discoveries. I find reading poetry to be a search. Many poems are difficult to read and understand. If understood, they may not be particularly meaningful. So, when one does stand out above the others I feel like a miner panning for gold who just discovered a huge nugget. I want to read it to everyone I see! So it was in the brief time I spent with Francis and Clare in poetry, edited by Janet McCann and David Craig. I offer a poem that I felt to be one of those gold nuggets.

THE LEPER'S RETURN
          ---- a gift of St. Francis

He had grown used to the fear he carried
to the hearts of all he passed along the road.
And the chagrin he bore inside became

a bitterness far worse than the fetid taste
that never left his mouth. He could not bear
to stay near town for long, nor could he ever

walk far enough away. His days were marked
in varied degrees of suffering, varied
degrees of shame. So when he saw the young man,

trembling, stand awaiting him in the road ahead,
the leper felt the weight of his long burden briefly
lift, and when the young man rushed to embrace him,

the leper startled to the fact of his own body
gently held, and held in firm, benevolent
esteem, and when he felt the kiss across

his ruined cheek, he found forgotten light
returning to his eyes, and looked to meet
the brother light approaching from the young man's

beaming face. Each man blessed the other
with this light that then became the way
that each might travel every road thereafter.

----- Scott Cairns