Days and Times. Paul K. Hooker

in life are shrouded in their pall,

      then at last we lift our vision; then at last we strain our ear

      for the word of sweet deliv’rance: our rescuer draws near.

      Teach us, Lord, to rescue others, and to find as we are found,

      until all your people reach the shore and stand on higher ground.

      O that you, O God, would tear the skies and to the earth descend

      ‘mid the trembling mountain’s tumult, ‘mid fear that knows no end.

      Though the stars may leave their places, constellations cease to be,

      though the world we know and all we love lost to memory,

      still we wait, Lord, rapt in wonder, ‘til morning’s sun shall rise,

      ‘til the clouds are rent asunder, and the tear of heartache dries.

      ‘Til that day, before the table spread, the font, the spoken word

      we will gather as a people and let lament be heard

      for your promised reign of glory, for tomorrow’s dawn of peace,

      for the helpless and the hopeless, the prisoner’s release.

      Quickly come, Lord, to your people! The night grows e’er so long!

      We believe, but help our unbelief, ‘til all our hearts are strong.

      Note: This poem was written as a hymn, to be sung to the English hymn tune, THAXTED (drawn from the “Jupiter” movement of Gustav Holst’s suite, The Planets).

Adventus*

      When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem. . ..” (Luke 2:15)

      What proximate apocalypse arrives tomorrow?

      Lost key lost love cancer butterfly extinction

      blood on the floor of sanctuary schoolhouse—

      must we endure yet more of heaven’s plan?

      Do you dare to raise your eyes, peek between

      the stars to see the angels turn for home

      after they have ransacked all your dreams?

      After the dream comes the dark.

      “Be not afraid”: why do the blessèd say this

      when the only reasonable response is fear

      or maybe flight if you can make your feet work?

      Are you not supposed to fear the beast?

      When you meet a bear—or host of angels—

      with your back against the wall, will you stand

      your ground before the feral claws of glory?

      After the glory comes the dark.

      Do you yearn to leave the sheep and wander

      into town to search for manger mother

      child aglow with heaven’s subtle light;

      leave the eastern palaces to track a star,

      offer homage at the hard world’s fraying edge;

      leave the boats and nets and trail a migrant

      preacher pinned like a butterfly to a cross?

      After the cross comes the dark.

      And who knows what might happen in the dark?

* “Adventus” is a Latin word meaning, “arrival” or “coming.” It is the word from which English draws the term, “Advent.” Christians use the latter term to describe their expectant hope for the arrival of God’s kingdom. These days, the news of the kingdom’s coming raises more questions than it answers.

      Silence Falls

      Silence falls in moonlight on a manger bare

      in the gath’ring midnight, ‘ere the shepherds’ care;

      in darkness waiting, still in death’s own fold,

      we anticipate the ancient story told.

      Silence falls in whispers, voices hushed in fear;

      hearts will quake at this: the time is drawing near.

      Though kings may plait for him a crown of thorns,

      we anticipate the kingdom yet unborn.

      Silence falls in heartache, silence pools in blood;

      stillness in the earthquake, shelter in the flood.

      Time seems to wait, the whole world holds its breath;

      we anticipate the last approach of death.

      Silence falls in sorrow on the sylvan hill;

      silence in the graveyard, all waits cold and still.

      Too long we pace the paths among the tombs;

      we anticipate a new way coming soon.

      Silence falls in wonder in the light of dawn;

      heavens rent asunder, darkness now is gone.

      Stone rolled away, the tomb yields up its prize.

      We anticipate with sunlight in our eyes.