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Day 42, Lent

Ann Weems is a wonderful poet and prayer.  She was considered by some to be the poet laureate of the Prebyterian Church.  She died last week.  I wanted to share her poem about Holy Week and hope it provides you with nourishment this Holy Week.

Holy is the week…
Holy, consecrated, belonging to God...
We move from hosannas to horror
with the predictable ease
 of those who know not what they do.
 Our hosannas sung,
our palms waved,
let us go with passion into this week.
It is a time to curse fig trees that do not yield fruit.
It is a time to cleanse our temples of any blasphemy.
It is a time to greet Jesus as the Lord’s Anointed One,
 to lavishly break our alabaster
 and pour perfume out for him
 without counting the cost.
It is a time for preparation…
The time to give thanks and break bread is upon us.
The time to give thanks and drink of the cup is imminent.
Eat, drink, remember:
On this night of nights, each one must ask,
  as we dip our bread in the wine,
 “Is it I?”
And on that darkest of days each of us must stand
 beneath the tree
and watch the dying
 if we are to be there
when the stone is rolled away.
The only road to Easter morning
Is through the unrelenting shadows of that Friday.
Only then will the alleluias be sung;
 only then will the dancing begin.

This poem is just one of many lovely and liturgically appropriate prayers for the seasons by Ann Weems.

Posted by Laurie Weicher at 6:00 AM
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