Category: Reflections

Miracle! Mystery!
What was paralyzed in me dances!
What was ashamed in me rejoices!

You who are grace itself,
from the chaos of No
you speak your clear Yes.

Under the weight of impossibility,
despite all our explanations,
you rise.

In the thickest un-creation,
in the deepest darkness
you command light.

In failure and emptiness,
in utter rot and decay,
you thrive.

How do you
turn dying into living,
melt evil into mercy?

By your grace
the grave empties itself
into you.

Christ is risen
hand in hand with me
and I am hauled into your glory.
Alleluia!

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 5, 2021

Alleluia!
The Resurrected One
was crucified,
but sure enough—he stayed resurrected!
He has risen from the dead.
This is the first day of Creation.
Alleluia!

Dearly beloved,
may the risen Christ light your way.
May the Seed that has died and borne fruit
raise you to new life.
May the love of God that cannot be vanquished
give you beauty and compassion.
May the life that cannot be taken from you
give you courage and joy.
May the mystery of Easter
bless you, guide you
and strengthen you, now and always.

Alleluia!

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 4, 2021

         He poured out himself to death.
                   —Isaiah 53.12

Before the rising green
the dark soil.
Still and black,
worked soil, fertile ground,
rife with loss and labor,
ground that’s wept and groaned,
and bled and given up.
Only love that’s given all,
and lost and lain in death
for long
may rise.

(O Mystery, that you, Beloved,
would deny yourself,
deny yourself,
and pour yourself out to death!)

In blackest dark,
in bleakest death,
the seed is planted.

And silent, waits. 

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 3, 2021

         He was despised and rejected by others;
                  a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity.
         Surely he has borne our infirmities
                  and carried our diseases.
                                     —Isaiah 53.3-4

In the bull’s eye of our injustice,
the bleeding wound of our violence,
you bear it.
At the heart of our horror,
the seat of our rage,
in the dark hole of our loneliness,
you bear it all.
In our isolation, our throatless silence,
our pandemic wail, our shamed cry,
our murderous righteousness,
Beloved, you bear it.
Despised, you love us.

                  How can we but die,

                                    and wait to be raised?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 2, 2021

Mary,
your son taken from you
hung here to die
by the world you gave him to,

you remember that first startling
opening of your eyes,
the angelic visitation,
“of his Realm there will be no end…”

You know in the fist of this cruelty
the depth of what it means
to have given him fully,
a new kind of birth pang

shared by the world’s peasant mothers
who see their sons taken,
their cries muffled,
their agony belittled.

To those who take his life
he gives even more,
this dying a birthing, a nursing,
his flesh for their life.

With grief and generosity mothers know
(your son understood;
but the Empire can’t):
mothers, like God, give life.

It is given, not taken,
wholly given to the world
knowing the world will take unknowingly,
given nonetheless in love.

For the death of cruelty, you suffer;
the birth of justice a labor you accept,
a dying you transfigure, for the sake
of the realm of love that has no end.

Mary—O God—
sorrowing, you know
the life you gave
gives life.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 1, 2021

         They compelled a passer-by,
         who was coming in from the country,
         to carry his cross;
         it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus.
                   —Mark 15.21

Hey, you. You. Take this.
         Deny yourself, take up your cross.

Bear the crushing weight of shame.
         You did not choose me; I chose you.

Feel the splintering pain, the rough edge, his blood on you.
         Come to me, you who are weary.

Shoulder to shoulder, hear him breathing.
         Take my yoke upon you.

Torn open, he looks at you with those healing eyes.
         I will give you rest.

Your pain swallowed in his, the world’s.
         My yoke is easy; my burden is light.

Common struggle, boundless. Who helps whom?
         No one has greater love than this…

Where else could you be so near, so entwined?
         I am the vine; you are the branches.

What gift, this suffering, so close, so one.
         Lo, I am with you always.

This blessing is unto death.
         When I am lifted up I will draw all to me.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

March 31, 2021

         Jesus poured water into a basin
         and began to wash the disciples’ feet.
                   —John 13.5

A basin of baptismal water,
mother’s water breaking,
river of life, basin of tears.

With gentle hands he enfolds your feet,
your journey, your sorrow,
your pain.

He washes away
your fear, your betrayal,
your failure.

He rejoices to do this.
He is tender with you.
He is beneath you. Always.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

March 30, 2021

         As he sat at the table,
         a woman came with an alabaster jar
         of very costly ointment of nard,
         and she broke open the jar
         and poured the ointment on his head.
                   —Mark 14.3

This day
is an aromatic offering,
this moment
a jar of ointment
poured out on the head
of the One who will die for us
in love
over and over.
Let the fragrance of it
fill the room of this day.
Notice her love, pouring it out,
his gratitude, receiving it.
Though it is not your anointing
the aroma stays with you
all day, into the darkening
of the evening.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

March 29, 2021

         On the first day of Unleavened Bread,
         when the Passover lamb is sacrificed,
         his disciples said to him,
         “Where do you want us to go
         and make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?”
                   —Mark 11.12

Little did they know (little do we see)
he himself would be the lamb.
It is he, every time
we sacrifice another scapegoat,
every time we blame,
every time we oppress.

Little did they know (little do we see)
he would not just remember the Passover—
liberation from oppression—
but re-enact it.
We still cry for deliverance from our Egypt—
racism, gun violence, legislated poverty….

Don’t just remember the Passover;
make the journey.
Stop killing the lambs.
Let the oppressed go free.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

March 25, 2021

         Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me,
         one who is eating with me.”
         They began to be distressed
         and to say to him one after another,
         “Surely, not I?”
                            —Mark 11.18-19

Who crucified Jesus?
Surely not I.

No one did.
No one, no disciple,
no priest, no bystander,
no Pilate, no soldier,
no Jew, no one.
Who crucified him,
with nails paid for by everyone’s taxes?
We all did.
We all do.

Who held slaves?
Who failed to bring forth justice?
Surely not I….
Yes, we are all guilty,
guilty of sins we can’t prevent.
The food you eat, the fuel you use,
even the most generous act,
links with another’s pain.
To be part of the living web
is to cause death and suffering.

For all of this we are absolutely guilty,
and in chronic, denied grief.
And for all of this
we are absolutely forgiven.

This is the hard, awful, absolute
good news.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

March 26, 2021