People of the Passion by johnboy philothea

The Anawhimsical Literati

don't take solace in the notion that few will ever escape the academic gulag archipelago to pillage, plunder and rape

the literary modalities and language conventions; forewarned is now forearmed sTYLe iS conTEnT ! foRm 'tis sUbstancE ! is taught in their bAck waRds?

this here medIuM is mY meSsage and my mcCluhanesque disregard broke me out of that asylum with literary superego never formed +++

this literati mouse will never roar nor disturb your publishing housing suffering no nhihil obstatic rage censors liborum there arousing

with pentameter uniambic, lacking onomotopoeia, running free

ugly blackbird, caged, is singing, in the middle of Dark Nights

enraged nightengale is winging over there to silence His Delight

but the orthodoxy prison lost its captive! warbling Logos? escapee! ++

in the beginning was the Word, then utmost Silence making us wary in the interim there came Jesus as the Father's poetic commentary but some would have none of it and they gave Him back His Gift

suffer me no notions preconceived, Barrabas-giving consensus gentiums or I'll miss Him when She returns again at the Wiccan Woods Convention no signs or portents shall distract me from my Lover, or boy will I be miffed!

johnboy

Kung Lite

solipsism out of a wet paper bag never fighting its metaphysical way because it is radically empirical

objective bicsuits of reality never cook in subjectivism's oven oven set always on hermeneutical

the immanent hungering for transcendence the apophatic being a liturgical burger short at the happy meal of celebrations theological the transcendent starving for immanence the kataphatic lacking a numinous sandwich at the picnic of the mystically existential

elevators of skeptics don't go to the top lights of credulous on with nobody home watch the aesthetes and ascetics go bust tao, dharma and logos forsaking either-or for paradox, mystery, creative tension, both-and proofs surrendering to fundamental trust

johnboy

Flexegesis of I Corinthians 12

What we bring to humanity's table is unique or have they told ya? That is why I'll never try here to remake or to remold ya.

With a unity of mission and with ministries so diverse, To deny e pluribus unum would engender a hellish curse.

We've clues to how things are in heaven, knowing how things are on earth, With every strength and every weakness from nature, nurture or from birth.

In heaven, the British are policeman, French chefs cook for Italian lovers; the mechanics there are German; the Swiss run a government, like no others.

Now hell's not very different, just the people take new roles. As you try to make them like you, What a mockery there unfolds.

The Italians run the government and the Germans are police; The British cook for cold Swiss lovers in the French mechanics' grease.

When the Lord God made each woman, When the Goddess made each man, He knew what He was doing As She fashioned creation's plan.

At the height of this creation With a most resplendent beauty, People contribute quite uniquely Each according to their duty.

So I'll take this lesson here Not to refashion or remold ya. But should Eternity become a problem It won't be cause I haven't told ya!

johnboy

9999 End of Program, A Metanoia

tomorrow is a special day: nine, nine, ninety-nine corresponding to computer code encountered at that cyber node at the end of my program line

i will celebrate tomorrow by emptying my cache many tapes to be overwritten bytes in memory that aren't fitting algorithms to dump to trash

general protection faults abounding: my needs to be right and to be perceived so to be consulted and understood, to know alarms within me ever-sounding invalid parameters finding emotional habits of fear neuroses always near

defense mechanisms binding my dignity and "worthies" feeding image of God ever-distorted leaving self and others broken-hearted

critical error requires deleting a program, conditional love, of course

has many programs crashed of late must find a way to terminate love's fatal virus or trojan horse

soon with code rewritten, every line end of virulent program executing in metanoia and with grace rebooting gonna party like its nineteen, ninety nine

9/9/99 End of Program: Conditional Love

johnboy

The Kingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Gambit

For, what if life were a game of chess? The goal of the game is checkmate. Checkmate is the arrangement of pieces in such a manner that you are eternally and inescapably captured by God. Once so captured, unspeakable eternal bliss ensues:

We'll have all been there ten thousand years ! Bright shining as the sun ! Each generation's moms and dads ! Each daughter and each son !

The loves we'll have shared continuing on ! The pains we'll have shared forgotten ! With the God we'll have known from ages hence ! From Mary's womb begotten !

in a "place"...where ...All human fellowship, every trace of human goodness, all wholesome trivialities ... what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived ... will be eternalized (cf. Kung). The unitive life is one of utter fulfillment. Salvation includes our attainment of the maximum aesthetic value, our realization of unspeakable joy, our consummate justification, sanctification and glorification !

To return to our metaphor: God is willing to "queen a pawn" even as we are checkmated. And there was one peasant, one lowly one whose Assumption and Coronation is an object lesson for us all as we work out our destinies.

There is no possibility of your checkmating God.

There does come a point during the game of life, however, where you get one last move before either a checkmate (by God) or a stalemate. The "limbo" which ensues from a stalemate is your doing, alone. For it is here that we answer the age-old question: "Can God make a rock so big that He can not pick it up ?" And the answer is yes; that rock is the divinely created

human will.

Regarding all other pieces on the chessboard, these represent for you all the persons, places, things, events and circumstances of existence. EVERY SINGLE TIME you move, God recontrives and reconfigures and reconstructs the ENTIRE CHESSBOARD in such a manner that YOU are BEST POSITIONED to ATTAIN the UTMOST SANCTIFICATION. Meditate and understand this part of the game for it is foundational. To repeat this principle, God counters your every move and progressively positions you for checkmate. God's repositioning of your life's pieces ALWAYS optimally places you in maximum "jeopardy" of an imminent "checkmate".

The above sentiment seems quite presumptuous ? That He would condescend to interact with your every move ? that He would counter your every thought, word or deed, your every sin or error of omission or of commission ? that He (the White King), in union with Mary (the White Queen) and all the other angels and saints (the other white pieces), is continually and intimately involved in the minutiae of your daily life ? that God is stooping to an undignified meddling with the petty affairs of your petty world (cf. Rahner 1946) ? that God is adjusting and rearranging what was created as already adequate in itself ? that all wholesome trivialities are somehow being captured on some sort of ethereal, maxi-cam film by an

omnipresent family videophile where they will be run and rerun as an ever new, ever invigorating recreational eternal-home-video, multimedia, virtual reality extravaganza ?

Now I know that it is quite an exercise to image God's chess game with you, but now, realize that He's "playing" with every other human being that has ever lived, lives now or is yet to live!

This metaphor, as any, will eventually collapse and become inadequate, but let me stretch it for now.

Not only is God playing chess with you. He's playing billions of others, too! Now we've all seen chess masters on TV or perhaps on the Internet who play many folks at once. Is it too big a stretch, therefore, to imagine that God can play all of us at once ?

The board game is not merely two dimensional in the chess game of life; it has no spatio-temporal boundaries ! Furthermore, you will wake up one day and realize that you and God aren't playing on "your" very own game board; there are no separate game boards. We are all people, through all of time, playing on ONE GIGANTIC BOARD and every move you or I or anyone else makes reconfigures the game for ALL players who've not yet been checkmated or stalemated ! God's moves, in counter to

each of ours, are instantaneous and COMPLETELY and UTTERLY EFFICACIOUS in the same manner already described above. His moves, in response to every trace of a frown or beginning of a smile of every living human, recontrive and reconfigure and reconstruct the ENTIRE CHESSBOARD in such a manner that ALL are BEST POSITIONED to ATTAIN the UTMOST SANCTIFICATION !

In the game, you may ask, what about the black pieces ? We aren't black; we are without Light. There are angels of darkness who are working untiringly to have you stalemated.

Here we can explore the mechanics of some of the moves.

We can take up a position, a posture, of defense against God.

We can seek to cooperate or to counter His every move.

There comes a point, during every game, where one begins to glimpse the strategy of the other player. We can AWAKEN to HIS goals and aims and purposes and designs and begin a dance toward our eternal destiny, arriving as a pawn awaiting one of various levels of glorification in the eternal realms, awaiting capture and ensuing rapture.

More often, early in the game, we don't discern the OTHER's strategy. We look at the moves of the other pieces, moves

often seemingly directed against our fulfillment; we despair of any notion that God's countermoves are ABSOLUTELY EFFICACIOUS regarding our ongoing sanctification and ultimate fulfillment. We are desensitized to His moves and overly sensitive to the moves of all the other pieces and players. We plan strategies on our own with a clear vision of what our aims and goals may be, all noble, all seemingly true. And, unfailingly, we get in situations that are way over our heads. We attempt various gambits and tradeoffs, all to no avail and sometimes we've deployed strategies for a very, long duration that yield no fruitful results.

Eventually, we come to realize that other people's moves and strategies are not allowed to affect OUR POSITION on the board (to our detriment). Before they could possibly impact our optimal position, God has already accomplished for us, the reconfigurings and recontrivances and rearrangements that construe in grand confluence toward our utmost sanctification and ultimate fulfillment ! Paradoxically (and there are many mysteries involved), while no one can affect another's position to their detriment, we can, if we join the dance (matching our Creator move for move with our gaze fixed on Him alone) participate in the optimal positioning of others! We can join in His work of salvation and checkmating others. This is accomplished only through Grace and not by mere human strivings. Our justification and that of others was

accomplished in a very unique move, The KING's Gambit, whereby the King placed himself (as in castling) between two other pieces (incarnation, death and resurrection). Our justification, His Grand Condescension, was a free gift; no move was involved on our part. Our sanctification does require our cooperation through grace, an unmerited but freely bestowed grace. Through grace, He signs our dance cards and through our efforts we can attempt to match His steps, for in this now-mixed, metaphor of dance and chess, it takes two to tango, two to play the game. He likes to use us to optimally position others, either with our wills aligned or not. If we align our wills as best we can, we participate in the grand choreography of others' salvation (however mysteriously). If we don't align our wills, He'll accomplish others' salvation and sanctification (mysteriously) in spite of us, even using our unaligned willful, physical actions ! (This is a reference to His permissive will and Divine Providence).

Like a chess book filled with various game moves and strategies, or like a computer programmed to counter every possible move we make in a chess game (unfailingly toward our ultimate checkmate), God in His omniscience knows/knew our every move; His every countermove He also knows/knew.

Think of the umpteen, gigagillion moves stored in the Great Cyber-Godhead and think of how He in His omnipotence CAN

ACCOMPLISH ALL that I set forth above.

The computer chess game metaphor, wherein God's simultaneously playing billions of players in the Universal Interactive Video Arcade allows INTIMACY, allows DIVINE PROMPTINGS and fosters PRAYER of trustful surrender and abandonment to His Will and Providence, of Thanksgiving, of Praise, of Adoration, of Forgiveness, of Petition.

Who among us has danced the perfect dance or played the perfect chess game ? For you shall seek Him and you shall find Him when you search for Him with ALL YOUR HEART. This, I've not yet done. But even then, I've glimpsed some meaning. I've tasted some first fruits. I've seen in a mirror, however dimly, THE MAJESTY AND GLORY AND LOVE OF GOD. I'm willing to try THE KING's GAMBIT.

As in chess, in life, it's typically not individual moves or single, apparent blunders that place one in jeopardy of losing the game. It is your fundamental orientation, the core of your being which postures you and places you through a series of moves and countermoves in a position for a final, favorable or unfavorable, outcome.

We must accept our innate poverty if we are to dance our way through the game, matching his moves (Will) with ours. We must

trust His Gambits which place us in what we sometimes feel is apparent jeopardy but later positions us for a seemingly easy CHECKMATE. In chess, an apparent blunder, which later opens the way to a supremely advantageous position, is known as a "sacrifice".

The Omega Point theorists and many-world reality physicists have advanced the notion of a possible reality wherein all possible eventualities\potentialities exist side by side, bifurcation by bifurcation, permutation by permutation, template by template ... sometimes in a perpetual collapsing-expanding universe ... sometimes with cyberspace-real space overlap ... and manifold other mental constructions. This is partly how I conceive the big computer chess game of the universe. However, because of the divinely-created human will, no predestination paradigm is allowed; no precision clock-work model suffices. Every time we move, EVERY SINGLE time, God moves. His fundamental orientation in exercising His strategy is unswaveringly dedicated toward our Supreme Good. Potentialities, as many as they are, are either realized or unrealized based on both God's actions AND our actions/inactions.

In an aesthetic teleology the appropriation of novelty and the shedding of monotony are required for beauty. In nonequilibrium thermodynamics, dissipative structures which

are very complicated arise from chaos. The more complicated a system, the more permutations and bifurcations involved in forming a structure, the greater the instability, the greater the number of points at which its existence is threatened AND the more beautiful. So, too, in this giant chess game of the unfolding universe. The number of players and moves that God is involved with seems to have us all perched precariously between existence and nonexistence; beauty is brushed, stroke by stroke, upon a blank canvas of utter nothingness. We and all beauty, truth, justice and love are all threatened with disintegration; meaning is threatened by absurdity; being by nonbeing; faith by nihilism. All of the possible moves are there on the Eternal Template, a collection of "1's" and "0's" being written by every submission to or rebellion against His Will. What will be realized ? potentialized ? eternalized ?

Our moves are generally categorized as coming from a posture of sovereignty or of stewardship. Either we are being willful or willing (however strong-willed we may be). Either we are gazing at the world, the flesh and the devil or at the Father, the Son and the Spirit. In stewardship, our moves involve our time, our talent and our treasure deployed through prayerful discernment in conformity to His Will. In sovereignty, our moves involve our time, talent and treasure deployed through craft and cunning in conformity to Our Will.

But the world was created by the Father. The flesh was taken on by the Son. The devil was conquered by the Holy Spirit. His moves are generally categorized as coming from a posture of paternity, of fraternity and are known as consolation and desolation. We experience all of life as consolation or desolation in accordance with our physical, emotional, mental and spiritual faculties. All consolation and desolation are gifts for our transformation. All consolation and desolation comprise the process by which God moves in the chess game.

For instance, we move. Our move is from a sovereign orientation and involves time, talent or treasure. Then, God moves. It involves desolation.

We move again. Our move is from a steward's orientation. Then, God moves. It involves consolation or desolation. Wait a minute ! It's not as simple as we thought ! But Ignatius has written a chess game manual explaining some of God's moves; so has Teresa and John of the Cross; de Caussade and Saint-Jure' and Metz and Rahner and Colombiere. St. Francis' poverty was a foundational willingness to let the Master call the shots, decide the moves. Detachment, indifference and dispossession have no merit of their own but are the saints' tools of trade, their way of better ensuring their posture as one of stewardship versus sovereignty. Poverty, chastity and obedience are utter folly if they are not derived from the

fundamental core of a human being attempting alignment with the Father's Will. Can't be a sovereign if I own nothing, need nothing, want nothing. The Lord is My Shepherd; no want, no fear, I know. There can be no riches to honor to pride, no "this is mine; look at me; I am". We let go of individual moves; we win the game. We let go of individual notes, measures, bars and scores; we gain the symphony.

Julian of Norwich has summed it up: all manner of things shall be well. Scott Peck has a nice metaphor: We are in a "cosmic boot camp" learning how to love. We are here learning to conform our wills to His Will.

Some game board circumstances appear irredeemable. None of this dismisses the temporal pain and suffering or seeks to address it. Suffice it to say that our temporal impoverishments are no comparison for our Eternal Enrichments. The scales of the Eternal Enrichment balance quite simply can not be used to measure our temporal impoverishments. Karl Rahner, back in 1946,( years before He got even brighter than he already was) sums it up: "We profess our belief in the everlasting happiness of heaven, but we want from this life as much comfort as is demanded by those whose thoughts do not reach beyond it." Ouch !

Our need to be in control, to be right, for power ...

our fear of failure, of pain ... our focus on the temporal to the exclusion of the Eternal ... all make for some pretty sub optimal moves on our part. Sure, He will reconfigure everything continually for your optimal sanctification 'til your last breath ! The sub optimization that results comes about as you forgo the opportunities to participate in others' sanctification. You'll arrive in paradise with only your own soul (as one who's escaped through a fire). He would have you participate in His choreography. He'll even let you suggest moves and will honor your suggestions if they serve to optimally reconfigure the global board positions for all. But .. your will must be conformed to His Will and you will have to long study His strategies before You are allowed to look over the shoulder of the Master and suggest countermoves ! And as in chess, believe it or not, an optimal position can come about from many different moves, some as good as any other ! He'll let you choose a few, if you seek first His Kingdom ! if you're coming from the posture of stewardship and not acting as a sovereign.

As ongoing physical deportment effects posture, so too our habitual spiritual deportment will effect our lasting spiritual posture. Be aware of the cumulative effect of many moves. Too much sovereignty as opposed to stewardship and you'll inherit your own version of a kingdom and not His Kingdom. During a sacrifice or gambit orchestrated by God, you

needn't defend yourself ! In His Last Great Move as a human, He abandoned Himself to His Father's Will in agony, in seeming total defeat ! Then ... ... ... CHECKMATE !!!

Again, Rahner: "With a worldly shrewdness ..., we want our 'bird in the hand' as well as our 'birds in the bush' happiness here as well as hereafter- in fact, the best of both worlds." ..."Christ has answered our questions by teaching us how to pray. He has taught us to pray in words of direct supplication, of holy confidence, of complete submission."

From the words of Rahner and of Christ's teaching (cf. the Our Father), it is clear to me that prayers of petition, our suggestions in the great chess game of life, are heard and even solicited. But shouldn't we first observe His strategy and glimpse His otherwise inscrutable mastery of the game before presuming that our will is aligned with His ? Our wills are becoming aligned when we recognize the plural noun and verb forms of the Our Father. Perfectly unmoved and content with others' misfortunes (think, for instance, of the millions of parents who lost millions of children who died last year), all of a sudden we have a theodicy problem when tragedy overtakes "us" ! If you're going to have a faith crisis or theodicy confrontation with God, it's best you get on with now while all is well with "your" world. Then, you'll better understand and appreciate how the mystics can claim:

all will be well. 'Cause ... assuredly, all manner of things will be well ! but not per your petty agenda. Your so concerned cause someone took your pawn with their knight ! Wake Up ! Look at the rest of the board.

O.K. now, your move.

Liminal Threshold Fun Cool

i love the marshland's looks and sounds for my childhood was taken up there through mile after mile of broken, bent reeds i passed time with never a care

on the opposite side was the river, it travelled from way up north thousands of miles it came to deliver what no one had beckoned forth

for countless hours we'd play on its banks making cowbellies in its dark mud she freely bestowed gifts of driftwood and fish and, when ships passed, her foaming white suds

but the childhood memory that stays with me most? bright brilliant Saturday afternoons my grandmother'd take me inside that dark church where she'd hum hauntingly beautiful tunes

it was otherwise silent and reverent and holy sweet scented candles burned everywhere but the light that intrigued me burns in my memory still 'twas a red flame that was glowing up *there *

maybe 'cause i was so very little back then or perhaps the altar so very tall the light from the candle inside that red glass seemed so very awfully small

yet all the attention seemed pointed that way 'twas where steps led up to the big cross and on it there hung this pitiful man prompting memories of people i'd loss

near his feet between bouquets of flowers the ones that my grandmother had brought was a little gold house with a little white veil where God lives or so i was taught

she'd smooth out the cloths and linens so white and polish the chalice of gold she'd refill crucibles with water and wine that the next day would be blood i was told

well imagine the awe in an eight year boy soaking up everything grandmother taught imagine the thoughts that would run through his mind the impressions that all of this wrought

there were questions that would arrive later but for then we just stayed to our task years after she died and i'd grown and moved on there was no one i was willing to ask

for they all seemed to buy into grandmother's scheme for meaning and purpose in life they never would question or wonder or dream and who was i to invite them to strife?

their strife was o'er, their battle won never a doubt assailed firm beliefs as for me, my battle was just beginning of angst and of fear and of grief

may i decrease and you increase

was my constant vigil and prayer til others might have a problem here in knowing who's standing there

i willed to become like the man on the cross who lived in that little gold house but the faith my grandmother had given was gone or was as small as that tiny church mouse

i continued to go through the actions of faith and in time i raised kids of my own taught them all the things that my grandmother'd taught planted all the same seeds that she'd sown

as for me, in the meantime, i delved into books theology, philosophy and prayer but the feelings of bright, sunny Saturday noons in church--- never returned to me there

i resolved to do everything "just because" and forsaking my reasoning mind i decided i'd wait for my God to return in His own due season and time

i believed in goodness and beauty and truth though they seemed to lack any support

was the universe friendly? was meaning intact? would life's loves just some day abort?

for the heat death of the universe is a verity simple to know it'll all burn out without fanfare or care with not even an afterglow

but some folks talk of an afterlife full of goodness and beauty and truth with their loved ones and the man on the cross all the prophets, Naomi and Ruth

fearful souls harbor such feeble glad thoughts and i'm glad it consoles them so as for me and my people i'd like the same, too but how is one ever to know?

is there primal ground and primal being? unconditional truth and meaning? all i could do was to take that leap with no visible prop for the leaning

i would cling to beauty just because of the hold that it had on me as for goodness and truth

i surrendered there, too unconditionally

i gave up the fight and let everything go and abandoned myself to the flow only truth and beauty and goodness perdured no other god would i know

and i thought long and hard about all my desires of the assurances and convictions i lacked if i had them what would i do differently? and no answers ever came back

in the dark night of faith, in love i'd persist giving up my long search for the grail the journey became my destination on an ocean of love i would sail

and that ocean was silent, gave never a clue of its origins, its depths or its floor but it gently caressed me and placed me down on the sands where it kisses its shore

and the sights there were vaguely familiar for i awakened in marsh grass and reeds right close to the river and next to the church

where grandmother had planted her seeds

still everything differed while all was the same it was something within me had changed other people went on with their business but my programs had been rearranged

i no longer cared what they thought about me and i no longer needed their praise the guilt and the fear that they'd used to control they could keep for the rest of my days

i had somehow come into to the Oneness wherein each of us is quite the same on the other hand and very strangely enough each still had their very own name

all i did was to sleep a long sleep all i did was get tired of the pain all i did was surrender my every desire every guilt, every fear, every shame

and the moment i quit and gave all of this up is indelibly etched in my soul and i'll never go back to the ways of the world and i'll never rejoin their fold

all i did was to wake up and see as if seeing the very first time my learned habits and fears and lunacy and the havoc they wreaked in my mind

who told you that God would not love you unless you conformed to His laws? who told you that you must act this way or that in order to win His applause?

well i'm telling you now they were lying but it's just that they just didn't know they were only repeating the things that were taught from ages and ages ago

and i know that this news is quite hard to believe and that some will continue to sleep and i'm not trying to change you or shepherd some herd as if you weren't people but sheep

i'm just dancing my dance and living quite free and writing my poems and my musings knowing all shall be well and all is well despite what we're finding confusing

i'm telling you, though, to learn to trust the almost silent voice within i'm really suggesting you quiet it all down and learn anew how to begin

for this is mostly about new beginnings each moment, each second, each day to see each person and each event afresh in most every way

for each is brand new and each has become the sum total of what's gone before and the sum of that total changes so often 'tis folly to ever keep score

'tis the keeping score that's worst of all to think winners necessitate losers there's no merit, reward, recognition we're all beggars and beggars are choosers

but look at all the good choices they're all blessed and love-filled and fun there's no need to compete with each other for these blessings have only begun

neither death nor life nor angel

not any principality can take you away from the Father's love which is yours for eternity

i tell you again, these blessings are free the graces are there for the choosing but you'll never experience this heavenly peace 'til you quit thinking "winning or losing"

you can't win a reward that is already yours you can't lose what can never be lost you can't store up treasures to purchase a gift when it's given without any cost

would you ever turn away from Him? well know this, that if you should He'll pursue your love forever like any parent would

would a lover leave her own beloved? would a parent ever leave a child? would a Creator forget a creature? not even for awhile

the truth, the beauty, the goodness, the love the solidarity

are nothing we could ever attain they simply are, you see?

to see, to look, to gaze in awe is a very simple task to wake up and see what's there to see is all the Master asks

for after you awaken, the task's already done compassion flows out naturally we'll be not-two, not-one

the love will flow out unawares left hands won't know their right the holy will never know holiness the seeing will see without sight

self-consciousness will simply disappear there will be no "me" to harm we'll all be "I's" inside I AM we'll all be arm in arm

we'll have all been there ten thousand years bright shining as the sun each generation's moms and dads each daughter and each son

the loves we'll have shared continuing on the pains we'll have shared forgotten with the God we'll have known from ages hence within each of our hearts begotten

where the doing becomes being and object and subject are One apophatic and kataphatic will be liminal threshold fun !

'til then i'll still enter the darkened church humming grandmother's light-filled hymns no longer with thoughts that run through my head i'll just sit and i'll stare at Him

i'll just sit and i'll gaze at the little red glow and i'll smile at the little gold house i'll look up at my friend on the cross as He winks as He squeaks through that little church mouse

my grandmother will smile, not from up above but from a dwelling place deep within and i'll know i'll be with her bye and bye but there's much to do until then

like go down to the river and play in the mud and kick up the dirty white foam like be anywhere that i happen to be knowing home is wherever i roam

in the city or the marshland while at work or when at play i'll silently gaze at Him everywhere and here i'll always stay

all i do now is unconditional all i do now is just because all i do now is wonder how people can be the way that i once was

all may be well, all can be well all will be well i'm certain all shall be well is all you know when you pull away the curtain

don't listen to others describing the sights don't imagine what lies behind tear open the curtain and look for yourself the scenery here is just fine

no rights reserved, not copyrighted, tell everyone you wrote it and forward

it around the world a dozen times ;>Wink johnboy

People of the Passion Narrator: I asked them of their hopes and dreams Of how it seemed to them On a road that led to Calvary That began in Bethlehem

Mary answered first: "My hopes and dreams, Every single part of me, Awaited my Messiah, With Him I longed to be."

Joseph looked at her and nodded: "What you just said is true ... But as for me, my hopes and dreams: My every thought was you.

"At the time of our betrothal, The fulfillment of my life Was to take your hand in marriage, To take you as my wife."

"I was first the handmaid of the Lord," Said Mary as she smiled, "But what devastation you endured When you found I was with child."

Joseph said: "My heart was broken; How bitterly I wept; Exhausted in my pain and grief, How wearily I slept."

Mary smiled: "The angel in your dream Your every doubt erased; Then the baby leapt within my womb When warmly we embraced !"

Joseph: Our road would wind, go up then down, His way seemed hard to learn. Mary: But angels came in Joseph's dreams At every single turn.

Joseph: Like the time we went to Egypt

Where we stayed 'till Herod died. Mary: Or when we came back to Israel And you'd thought the angel'd lied.

Mary: (You see Herod's son took Herod's place So, again, we'd have to flee). Joseph: And warned, again, within a dream, We left for Galilee.

Mary: So, too, on your road with Jesus, You may find your plans and schemes Will be readily displaced there By our Father's hopes and dreams.

Joseph: There'll be times your heart is broken. There'll be times your dreams are dashed, When you dwell in desolation, See no sun, just smoke and ash.

Mary: All will share His Passion and His Death From the time of their conception; Those who take life's road with us

Will share His Resurrection.

Mary: Our road began with the Word of God, Where a witness, Elizabeth's son, In a town in the hills of Judah, Spoke of Jesus, the Chosen One.

Elizabeth: Little boys we carried in our wombs Knew one another, even there ! And were destined, both, for early tombs, Any mother's worst nightmare.

Mary: My son was killed by Pilate, With indignity and disgrace. Elizabeth: My John was brutally murdered, Beheaded at Herod's place.

Narrator: I asked of Mary: "What of Pilate ?" "What of Herod ?" of Elizabeth. "Of the people who rejected them Even in Nazareth ?"

They both were silent, for a while Then each, in their own turn, Spoke openly and lovingly Of the lessons they had learned.

Mary: Like my Joseph, through King David's line, Did my baby, Jesus, come A Savior given unto us Each and every one.

Elizabeth: Yes, adulterers and murderers Like Herod (King David, too) Were the reason that Our Lord was born Mary: And also me and you.

Elizabeth: No it's not for us to understand. It's not for us to see: What of David ? Pilate ? Herod ? Mary: What of them or you or me ?

Mary: Like the criminals murdered with Him

On His left and on His right 'Til one's dying breath He'll save you Bathe you in Eternal Light.

Narrator: Elizabeth stood, took Mary's arms. They embraced with loving tears. Then as at The Visitation John and Jesus then appeared !

I watched in silence and in awe With love and peace and joy, As with such warmth and tenderness Each mother hugged her boy.

They were little kids like yours and mine ! With faces oh so fair ! Their mommies kissed their little heads Ran fingers through their hair.

They pinched their cheeks, held little faces In between each hand, Looked proudly down into their eyes

Each mother's little man.

There they saw the face of God and lived As the prophet said they'd see. They all stared in little Jesus' face Then turned and said to me:

All: We'll have all been there ten thousand years Bright shining as the sun Each generation's moms and dads Each daughter and each son;

The loves we'll have shared continuing on, The pains we'll have shared forgotten, With the God we'll have known from ages hence From Mary's womb begotten.

For nothing can quench the love of God Not anguish nor distress Persecution, famine nor the sword Peril nor nakedness.

Neither death nor life nor angels Not any principality Could stifle the love of these mothers' boys From here to Eternity.

I then said: "Lord, take and receive, Take all of my liberty, My memory and understanding, Like The Baptist I want to be ...

For you'll increase as we decrease In answer to our prayer 'Til it almost becomes a challenge here To know who is standing there...

For I've entertained angels unaware In your poor it's plain to see Life's purpose is found as we get confused 'Tween them and you and me.

No the heart of man has not conceived

No eye could ever see The things the Father has prepared For The Baptist, you and me !

Narrator: What pains in life, dear Jesus, Caused your greatest agony ? What of the blood, the sweat, the tears That blessed Gethsemane ?

Jesus: He heaved a sigh: "I'll tell you now, The worst of pains, my brother, Came from the swords that pierced the Heart Of my dearest, sweetest Mother."

"The first sword ? In the temple, Among the doctors of the law, What a joy-filled, happy moment, When my mother's face I saw !

Mary: Have you ever lost a child ? Known the tears, the fear, the dread ? Have you ever feared your little one

To be given up for dead ?

Jesus: Well, her look that day was haunting, 'T was a look of total loss. I was to see it yet again As I hung there on the Cross.

Narrator: What of the Chief Priests and the Elders Or the Scribes and Pharisees ? Of the ridicule you suffered there As they tortured, spat and teased ?

Jesus: Jesus sighed again and said: "You know, On my mother, that was tough; It was watching her in agony That, for me, was really rough."

As for Caiaphas and Annas, The men with clubs and swords, Those who called out: 'Play the Prophet !' Or who mocked me with their words ...

I'd grown use to that in childhood, Never really did fit in, Not with neighbors, not with townsfolk Not even with my kin.

You as parents are familiar With these feelings from such pain When your children don't fit in With the others who are playin'

On the playground, in the school yard, Out about the neighborhood. How my mom and step-dad suffered Cause they knew I never would.

Narrator: Jesus, what of the Sanhedrin And the lying witnesses ? Or the soldiers there who stripped you Spat or hit you with their fists ?

When the crowd called out: "Barabbas !"

Scourged and crowned you with the thorns ? What terror gripped your heart there ? Were you 'specially then forlorn ?

Jesus: No, not the passers-by that jeered me Or who gave me wine with gall Nor the ones who drove the nails Pierced my side, cast lots and all

Not even when they lifted me Did it torture me the most; It was that one last look in momma's eyes That gave Daddy up my ghost.

Aside from the pain this caused my mom, What still truly hurts the most Are things that are done by the ones that I love In whom dwell the Holy Ghost.

With sacraments of initiation received Along with such loving formation For the life of Me, brother, I don't understand why

They abandon the Way of salvation.

The Sanhedrin, the High Priests and Elders Who hit me and spat in my face Did not cause my Heart near the confusion As those who abandoned the place

For after saying they'd never disown me The moment the Shepherd was struck The sheep of my flock were soon scattered 'Cause their Master was down on His Luck.

You, too, have seen transfigurations; You know you have had your good days But still like my beloved apostles Don't you go your own separate ways ?

Like Zebedee's sons on the road there Does your selfishness cause any fights ? In your own ways you press one another For seats on my left and my right.

No, I tell you I'd rather be spat at and jeered Even scourged and then nailed to a cross By the people who never have known me As opposed to somebody I've lost

Like you whom I've known since your childhood Baptized as an infant and then Have countless times known me in Eucharist Who's always considered my friend

Can't you see what you've done To a world dire in need Anytime when, like Peter, you fall ? The scandal ensues A soul 'bout to choose Chance misses hearing my call.

Next time you pray into my Passion And gaze up at your Friend on the Cross, I'm not there cause of people I've never known It's those, maybe you ? that I've lost.