P o e t r y

Creative Commons Project: Epiphany

So we're trying to develop some common space for the poetic and poetically-curious here at Asbury, luring the creative peoples of our community from their nooks to make some unique expression of faith together and providing some space for those of us who might struggle with poetry but still want to participate to find some voice.

Ergo: the Creative Commons Project (Better name ideas suggestions are welcomed).

With each season of the Christian calendar, we're going to have a corresponding project to contribute to. Hopefully, this will lead to some interesting poetry, as well as stretch some of our writing chops as we practice the season together.

This season is Epiphany . As JD wrote the other day:

"An epiphany isn't discovering something new. It's finally seeing something old. To have an epiphany is to finally see what you've been looking at so long; something mysterious and sublime long obscured by the ordinary and mundane. It's the sudden opening up of the eyes of the heart."

For phase one of this Creative Commons Project, we're asking for stories of epiphany. Do you have examples of times in your lives where your eyes were opened to something you'd never seen before? Where a long time hope finally was realized? Where you literally came face to face with Jesus (kind of like the Magi)?

In the comments section, leave us stories of epiphany from your journey with Christ. Our goal for this phase is to hear and write our stories of epiphany here, where others can read them and respond. In two weeks, we'll introduce the second phase of this project, so stay tuned...

Epiphany

by Steven K. Schou

They might have looked foolish,
those wise men,
leaving their books, following a star.
Leaving all behind:
dreams of the way things might have been,
or yet might be –
domestic, dogmatic, dignified dreams –
they abandoned all
for the learning of fools: experience,
where words meet flesh and blood,
and words fail.
 

They might have looked foolish,
giving up tenure,
ordination,
speculation in higher things;
giving up all,
except hunger and cold -
madmen driven to the desert to find God.
All of their wisdom,
all of their words,
distilled into darkness,
and a star.
 

They might have looked foolish,
traveling by night
like bandits bearing treasure
or lovers driven by desire,
traveling by starlight down that long road
from the ivory tower
to a stable
where words meet flesh and blood,
and words fail,
and all is changed,
and All Is
One.

Carol

by Thomas Merton

Flocks feed by darkness with a noise of whispers,
In the dry grass of pastures,
And lull the solemn night with their weak bells.

The little towns upon the rocky hills
Look down as meek as children:
Because they have seen come this holy time.

God's glory, now, is kindled gentler than low candlelight
Under the rafters of a barn:
Eternal Peace is sleeping in the hay,
And Wisdom's born in secret in a straw-roofed stable.

And O!  Make holy music in the stars, you happy angels.
You shepherds, gather on the hill.
Look up, you timid flocks, where the three kings
Are coming through the wintry trees;

While we unnumbered children of the wicked centuries
Come after with our penances and prayers,
And lay them down in the sweet smelling hay
Beside the wise men's golden jars.

(Taken from In The Dark Before Dawn: New Selected Poems of Thomas Merton)