Words of the poets
30/07/15 05:38
Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann frequently points out that Biblical prophets were poets. Their words were carefully chosen and often delivered with a cadence and rhythm. He teaches that in times of great stress, poetry is able to say more than conventional prose. When Israel falls away from its covenant with God, something that happens so often that it is a Biblical theme, it is the poets who call for the return to faithfulness. His perspective is refreshing in the midst of other voices in the Christian community who read prophets as predictors of the future and claim to have foreknowledge based on their interpretations of some of the more obscure parts of prophetic writings.
The conversation about the role of prophets is a healthy conversation in these times in which we live.
I think it is fair to describe this particular time of history as hard and complex times. I remain unconvinced that ours is a pivotal generation as some scholars have claimed. Phyllis Tickle, in her book “The Great Emergence” argues that each 500 years or so there is a major event in church history that causes the church to reevaluate and refocus its ministries. She may indeed be right, but even so, it takes more than a single generation for the major changes in the story of the church to occur. I am a bit of a skeptic when it comes to those who proclaim our time as somehow more critical than other moments of history. We, in our country, are not suffering persecution for our faith. The church isn’t about to disappear simply because there are challenges for the institutions of faith.
Having said that, there are specific challenges for faith in our time. People live very busy lives with multitudes of competing interests. The temptation to place priorities away from their spiritual lives is great. The intensity of our over-connected lives, filled with cellphones and computers with their relentless demands for our attention, can be a source of great stress. Here in our country the increasing polarization in politics, combined with an almost unprecedented mean-spiritedness in political discourse, results in a sense of powerlessness for many citizens. Having the question, “What can I do?” doesn’t shield us from the sense that we should be doing something. Families are increasingly over scheduled with the demands of multiple careers combined with a society that offers a huge number of scheduled activities for children and youth. The intense competitive nature of some academic settings means that some families try to map and control academic careers for their children from preschool age.
All of this means that our times are complicated. And these times can be hard for people. We often do not give ourselves enough time to grieve properly when loss occurs. We rush to get on. And our communities are filled with fear. Fear of terrorism, fear of crime, fear of disease, fear of poverty, fear of the unknown - the list goes on and on and on.
It is in this world that the words of the poet can sometimes stop us in our tracks and invite us to slow our pace, think more deeply, and pay attention to the meaning of our activities.
On the day before President Obama’s inauguration in 2009, the poet Elizabeth Alexander was invited on to the inaugural stage for a sound check. The engineers wanted to make sure that they had the proper settings for her voice for the big event on the next day. She was alone on the stage as she stepped to the microphone. Although the area was filled with many people, no one was paying attention to the woman on the stage and the routine process of sound checks. Usually people count or read text for a sound check. Elizabeth Alexander recited a poem by Gwendolyn Brooks, “Kitchenette Building:”
We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. "Dream" makes a giddy sound, not strong
Like "rent," "feeding a wife," "satisfying a man.”
But could a dream send up through onion fumes
Its white and violet, fight with fried potatoes
And yesterday's garbage ripening in the hall,
Flutter, or sing an aria down these rooms
Even if we were willing to let it in,
Had time to warm it, keep it very clean,
Anticipate a message, let it begin?
We wonder. But not well! not for a minute!
Since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.
from "Selected Poems" © 1963 by Gwendolyn Brooks. Reprinted with the permission of the Estate of Gwendolyn Brooks.
She was unknown to most of the people who were milling about the area, but hundreds of people literally stopped in their tracks to hear this unknown-to-them person recite a poem by someone unknown no doubt to most of them. They gathered into clusters and when the poem was finished they clapped.
Good poetry has the power to stop people in their tracks. And it has the power to get us to think in ways that we might not have previously thought.
For years I dismissed poetry. I thought that I didn’t have time to read it. But these days I feel that reading poems is important to maintaining my balance in life. After breakfast, as my cup of tea is brewing, I read poems out loud. I’m not standing in front of a microphone. I’m alone in my basement library. I don’t read for others, but instead read out loud to hear the music that is inherent in the words and seek the rhythm of the lines that isn’t always apparent when reading silently.
I am learning, albeit slowly, that ministry has much more to do with being than with doing. It is who I am that communicates the gospel even more powerfully than the tasks I accomplish. More importantly, I am able to do more when I am attentive to my need for contemplation and reflection.
I am dependent on the words of the poets to inspire me to become more than I have been.
The conversation about the role of prophets is a healthy conversation in these times in which we live.
I think it is fair to describe this particular time of history as hard and complex times. I remain unconvinced that ours is a pivotal generation as some scholars have claimed. Phyllis Tickle, in her book “The Great Emergence” argues that each 500 years or so there is a major event in church history that causes the church to reevaluate and refocus its ministries. She may indeed be right, but even so, it takes more than a single generation for the major changes in the story of the church to occur. I am a bit of a skeptic when it comes to those who proclaim our time as somehow more critical than other moments of history. We, in our country, are not suffering persecution for our faith. The church isn’t about to disappear simply because there are challenges for the institutions of faith.
Having said that, there are specific challenges for faith in our time. People live very busy lives with multitudes of competing interests. The temptation to place priorities away from their spiritual lives is great. The intensity of our over-connected lives, filled with cellphones and computers with their relentless demands for our attention, can be a source of great stress. Here in our country the increasing polarization in politics, combined with an almost unprecedented mean-spiritedness in political discourse, results in a sense of powerlessness for many citizens. Having the question, “What can I do?” doesn’t shield us from the sense that we should be doing something. Families are increasingly over scheduled with the demands of multiple careers combined with a society that offers a huge number of scheduled activities for children and youth. The intense competitive nature of some academic settings means that some families try to map and control academic careers for their children from preschool age.
All of this means that our times are complicated. And these times can be hard for people. We often do not give ourselves enough time to grieve properly when loss occurs. We rush to get on. And our communities are filled with fear. Fear of terrorism, fear of crime, fear of disease, fear of poverty, fear of the unknown - the list goes on and on and on.
It is in this world that the words of the poet can sometimes stop us in our tracks and invite us to slow our pace, think more deeply, and pay attention to the meaning of our activities.
On the day before President Obama’s inauguration in 2009, the poet Elizabeth Alexander was invited on to the inaugural stage for a sound check. The engineers wanted to make sure that they had the proper settings for her voice for the big event on the next day. She was alone on the stage as she stepped to the microphone. Although the area was filled with many people, no one was paying attention to the woman on the stage and the routine process of sound checks. Usually people count or read text for a sound check. Elizabeth Alexander recited a poem by Gwendolyn Brooks, “Kitchenette Building:”
We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. "Dream" makes a giddy sound, not strong
Like "rent," "feeding a wife," "satisfying a man.”
But could a dream send up through onion fumes
Its white and violet, fight with fried potatoes
And yesterday's garbage ripening in the hall,
Flutter, or sing an aria down these rooms
Even if we were willing to let it in,
Had time to warm it, keep it very clean,
Anticipate a message, let it begin?
We wonder. But not well! not for a minute!
Since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.
from "Selected Poems" © 1963 by Gwendolyn Brooks. Reprinted with the permission of the Estate of Gwendolyn Brooks.
She was unknown to most of the people who were milling about the area, but hundreds of people literally stopped in their tracks to hear this unknown-to-them person recite a poem by someone unknown no doubt to most of them. They gathered into clusters and when the poem was finished they clapped.
Good poetry has the power to stop people in their tracks. And it has the power to get us to think in ways that we might not have previously thought.
For years I dismissed poetry. I thought that I didn’t have time to read it. But these days I feel that reading poems is important to maintaining my balance in life. After breakfast, as my cup of tea is brewing, I read poems out loud. I’m not standing in front of a microphone. I’m alone in my basement library. I don’t read for others, but instead read out loud to hear the music that is inherent in the words and seek the rhythm of the lines that isn’t always apparent when reading silently.
I am learning, albeit slowly, that ministry has much more to do with being than with doing. It is who I am that communicates the gospel even more powerfully than the tasks I accomplish. More importantly, I am able to do more when I am attentive to my need for contemplation and reflection.
I am dependent on the words of the poets to inspire me to become more than I have been.