I am beginning to think I have used up all my ideas for this blog and my mind is empty. There are always thoughts rattling around my brain, of course, but none that compel me to share them at this time, so rather than blather I am going to insert a poem I already wrote--about being empty. Since it is dated January 2010 and was inspired by Palm Sunday, I assume that's what we were studying in BSF.
Empty
We do not wave palm branches now
and there are none on earth we bow the knee to,
so how can such proud spirits bring
sufficient honor to a king unseen?
In our time honor has become
an empty word.
We do not shout "Hosanna" now.
We're much too proud to think that we need saving,
or believe in self-delusion that
by our effort, we can save ourselves.
We offer those who need our help
such empty hearts.
With earth-bound hands we offer you
man made things but seldom true worship,
religious rites, but not right behavior.
With our self-imposed lists and labor
we faithfully follow tradition, but
with empty minds.
Perhaps the best that we can bring
to you, who are our friend and king and brother,
are quiet times remembering
that we have nothing to offer
but listening ears and honest talk
and empty hands.
We do not wave palm branches now
and there are none on earth we bow the knee to,
so how can such proud spirits bring
sufficient honor to a king unseen?
In our time honor has become
an empty word.
We do not shout "Hosanna" now.
We're much too proud to think that we need saving,
or believe in self-delusion that
by our effort, we can save ourselves.
We offer those who need our help
such empty hearts.
With earth-bound hands we offer you
man made things but seldom true worship,
religious rites, but not right behavior.
With our self-imposed lists and labor
we faithfully follow tradition, but
with empty minds.
Perhaps the best that we can bring
to you, who are our friend and king and brother,
are quiet times remembering
that we have nothing to offer
but listening ears and honest talk
and empty hands.
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