i bloody hate that story

i've been thinking this a bit last night and today. 'that story' being the story of Jesus' arrest, trial, beating, humiliation, and crucifixion. i commented on facebook this week that i was ready for good friday - for worship at least, if not for what the story would do to me.
it's made me feel sick.

sick with the anguish of Jesus' prayer in the garden - the struggle to find the courage to continue with God's way of love, God's call on his life, even to the point of death; feeling alone and far from God; being terrified; being humiliated and beaten; the desertion and betrayal of his closest friends.

sick with sorrow and grief and shame that this was the world's response to God's way of love.

sick with anger that we keep doing this to each other, humans, beat each other, treat each other with gross injustice, violence, inhumanity.

i bloody hate this story.
the story of good friday.
this story that is so hard to tell, to hear, to enter again.

but this is our story.
Jesus shows us God through this story.
may we have the courage to look and to see God's love pouring out, even though it hurts God.
may we have the courage to love, even when it hurts.

working on writing

recently I attended a workshop as part of a series I am also helping to lead for the Centre for Music, Liturgy and the Arts. I was thinking I wouldn't have time to stay the whole day, but once I got there and we got into the work, I found a day out to give time to my writing craft was just what I needed, so I stayed.
I wrote a couple of things, and share them here to honour the day and the gift it was.

this stuff comes out of a series of exercises on writing about an apple...
first up I wrote a poem

ode to my lunchtime apple

polished green lumpy Australian
your sight and smell remind
me of perfume, a gift,
and the giver - sister friend

I lick my lips –
delicious anticipation
of your crispy wet temptation
crunch
through the sharp shine of your
speckled skin
spray sticky spit – blink –
wince at the sweet and sour
bite

tongue fights with skin stuck
in teeth
juice dribbles from my mouth
healthy delight


then we had a go at horror ...

in the early morning, so early it was almost night, she fumbled into the kitchen. the low growl persisted, seemingly following her. she reached out, grasping at the table, as the growl grew louder. if only she could switch on a light. if only he had paid the bill before he – no. no 'if onlys'. you are alone. you must take care of yourself. 
GRROOWWLLL.
with a start, she made an urgent lunge and plunged her hand into cold fetid liquid.
GRROOWWLLL.
a sudden burst of wind under the door – she shivers and wishes for the comforting velvet darkness of sleep.
GRROOWWLLL.
another lunge, and at last she found her target through the darkness and crouched down behind the kitchen bench to fight the beast growling within with the last of the edible orbs of temptation.

the kids' story I'm keeping for now - just in case something publishable emerges.

one more poem / prayer to finish (the title is a reference to Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love; we heard from a talk Gilbert gave on writing, which gave shape to our day's reflection and work)

Eat / Pray Apple

As I eat this apple God,
its delicious juice
making my chin and fingers sticky,
I thank you for the apple,
the tree and the seed,
the earth and sunshine and rain.

As I eat this apple, God,
I think of the story of Eve
the temptation in the Garden –
was it really an apple they ate,
or have we in error given
apples a bad name?

As I eat this apple, God,
satisfying hunger within,
faces of starving children come to mind
and I wish I could give them
an apple, a tree, a seed –
the earth and sunshine and rain ...

the next in the Spirituality, Worship and the Arts series is a six session stream in the Grow and Go weekend at Uniting College for Leadership and Theology. call the college on 8416 8427 for info and to book. love to see you there.