The Poetry of Prayer
by Jim Burklo
Prayers by Jim Burklo:
Psalm 8 (a prayerful interpretation):
O dear One
whose name is more than a name
whose power I cannot tame
O dear One
I look into the sky, brushed with streaks of pink and orange at the dawn
I gaze at mountain ranges, parapets of stone
And remember how puny is my place in the grand order of things.
O dear One, how can it be
that you, who with consummate skill cut the facets of the celestial gems
And burnished the alabaster moon,
would have bothered to fashion a creature such as myself,
with fickle faith,
How can it be that my kind can exist at all, trashing the earth and all its creatures with greed and lust?
Yet you gave me inner eyes that can see you beyond the clouds
You gave me a heart that is a compass aimed at your feet,
You gave me a mind that strives to reveal your every hiding place,
And you gave me a voice to say your name
which is something more than any other name, with a power I cannot attain.
Psalm 22 (a prayerful interpretation):
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Oh, vacant sky! Oh, empty land!
Oh heart of mine, bereft of hope!
Why do I even bother crying? What's the use
Of even complaining? When there is no one to hear
And no one to see my tears?
Why wake at daylight, why sleep at night,
When there is no one to tell about the passage of my time,
the hands of the clock spinning like a vortex
Of water running down a sink.
Yet I find myself writing this lament, as if there was a You to read it.
I howl, as if there was a You to hear it.
I cry, as if there was a You to see my tears.
And so You must be holy
Because my despair itself is sacred--
It is holy because it is all I have left--
Everything else is dust.
My despair is precious because it is all that remains of my life
And there is no one else but You to whom I can express it.
To You I cry
As Israel cried to you from Egypt and from Auschwitz
As black slaves cried to you from the cotton fields of Mississippi
As the mentally ill cry to you from under their rags on the bus stop benches of urban America
To you I cry
As villagers cry to you from Darfur
As refugees huddle in shelters during hurricanes
But who am I to cry?
What is my despair worth? How do my miseries compare to the unspeakable sufferings of others? By what right do I complain?
Yet I feel a rush of warmth as I lift my lament to You
I feel your presence all around me,
As if I was a baby once again, surrounded by the sweetness of my mother's breasts
You were there then, to hear my infant cry
You are here now to hear my cry once more
(Asilomar Beach, 7/81)
My eyes cut a sliver of the lighted moon for your glory
I watch the darkness clear the sky for stars
Standing in the silent sound of your name
I claim this sand for your kingdom
By listening to the sea
I translate a declaration of your dominion over it.
No flagstaff other than my foot
No plate of bronze but my sunset-shining face
Just because I've been this way
Yours is the kingdom, the power, the glory
---
O dear God there is in each of us an ear tuned only to hear you, an eye that can see only you, and now we pray that this ear and this eye claim our full attention. We pray that the way of prayer will be cleared for you and for us. We pray that this and every attempt at worship, elegant or clumsy, will help to open the way between you and us.
O Lord, in whom all things have a place, in whom all beings have meaning and purpose, we pray that everything to which we clutch with regret or remorse or resentment will be revealed to us, that the tension we bear unaware will come before your light. We pray for discernment that will let us know naturally when it is time to release from our soul's grasp those things whose time has passed. And now out of the silence we let your love show us what we need to let pass from our grip.
And Lord, we also pray that you will reveal to us the room in our lives that is there to receive what you have to give us next. If there is some ability to appreciate and enjoy this life which awaits our exercise, we pray for it to come clear. If there is some strength in us to take up some new path of service, we pray that we will find it. We want to be ready, Lord, we want to be ready to welcome and follow you wherever and whenever you appear.
O Dear One: we now welcome you into our souls to search our hearts and minds for the truth about ourselves. Show us what you find within us, so that we may best exercise the powers of choice that you give us. Open our eyes to the truth. Take away the veil of prejudice through which we see the world and the people around us. Surprise us with new positive possibilities. Help us give up our willful ignorance. Make us willing to be transformed into the people we know we are meant to become.
Beloved: when you parted the waters, when you made form out of chaos, you left the wild ocean waters raging inside of our souls. You didn't finish parting the waters within us. You didn't finish creating us. We turn to you now in prayer, and ask that you continue to shape us into your image, body and soul. Show us the way through the primordial waters from which our fears and dreams emerge. Give us the rod of Aaron that Moses used to make a way through the fearsome waters, and lead us to liberation from all the injustice and oppression and suffering that surrounds us.
Dear One, when we've run out of reasons for living, here you are. When we run out of answers for our questions, here you are. When our relationships fail, here you are. When we are so happy we can't imagine anything better, here you are. When we are up against life's edges of birth and death, here you are. When we're afraid, here you are. When we are brave, here you are. Here we are, and here you are, together in the silence of this meditation...
Lord, hear our prayers, those deep, unformed urgings that lead us into your presence. We turn to you, knowing that in your face we will find our own, trusting that your word will be found when we find the words to express our prayers; believing that in your right time and place there will be healing, forgiveness, and peace.
O Dear One, we strain forward to meet you now in the silence of prayer; we press ahead, reaching for you, and as we do we notice those things that create the tension we feel between us ad you. A bit at a time we let go of them, like small branches blown into the air by your holy spirit wind. A bit at a time we let go of the grudges and grief we have frozen in our souls. O Lord, blow free any bitterness against others and against ourselves. Blow free our vanities of appearance and style. Blow loose our expectations that others ought always to give us what we think we deserve. Open us to the spirit that blows where you will, through places and people we cannot predict. Amen!
BENEDICTION
When beauty illumines a corner of your life, may your thanks to God spread that light through your whole being.
When you taste the threat of darkness, may you find the Light of the World that still shines deep inside you.
When you are held back by overgrowth of habit and smugness and prejudice, may you hear the voice of the Lord showing you the Way ahead to care and to serve.
When you are loved by another in even the smallest way, may you know that you have touched the hem of the Lord's garment, and receive the fullness of the love of God that flows through it.
Go out into all the world, and preach the good news to every living creature. Proclaim the message: the kingdom of heaven has arrived on earth! Amen!