your religious parents took you
after their purification, to the temple
pure, they hear you will be a sign, a destiny
where thoughts of many
hearts are to be revealed,
reveal my heart’s thought, oh Lord
reveal, create
recreate a pure thoughtful heart in
me
fragments, wonders: Jesus in my temple.’
drafts2 is about how I am composing, designing my writing and my readings. This blog is about and is my process. At http://www.charlesosewalt.com I published my first poem today , 25 November, in over twenty years in a series I am working on- ‘fragments, wonders: Jesus in my temple.’ The scripture that follows moved me to ask of myself, and to prayerfully ask of my God: Lord, what tables do you need to overturn in my temple?’ This series is entitled, ‘fragments, wonders’ because I am sure, absolutely sure, that I have many tables. I can only see a fragment of my tables, a section of my temple. I need a wondrous Savior to help me see. Maybe I should get rid of all, any tables? Maybe not an empty table, but an open space? If you can, tell me-comment on what you think of the poem below and how it is composed. Does the repetition of ‘never’ work? Does the word ‘house’ instead of temple distract? I chose ‘house’ to invite all in; it is-my implication-a house because I am still not a temple. It is his house, but until it is clean, his home can’t be a temple. His temple and mine. Me.
So, do these word choices work?
Prayerfully- Lord overthrow, overturn my tables.
’wonderful things’
Matthew 21:12-17
Jesus at the Temple
Jesus entered the temple courts and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves.“It is written,” he said to them, “‘My house will be called a house of prayer,’ but you are making it ‘a den of robbers.’”
The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple courts, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.
“Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him.
“Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read,
“‘From the lips of children and infants
you, Lord, have called forth your praise’”
And he left them and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.
fragments, wonders
Jesus in his father’s house, my temple
I have decorated your house, my Lord, with tables of coins from different realms, animals for others to barter, to buy, to sacrifice. I bring too much, never enough, never all
never an empty table.
fragments, wonders: Jesus in my temple.’.
fragments, wonders
Jesus in his father’s house, my temple
I have decorated your house, my Lord, with tables of coins from different realms, animals for others to barter, to buy, to sacrifice. I bring too much, never enough, never all
never an empty table.
‘There they are…there are the Oswalds. Let’s get them.’
It was November 22, 1963 and Donald (my twin brother) and I were ten years old. We had just moved into a new Brooklyn neighbourhood with my mother, father and five year old sister, Susan. New neighbourhood, new home; new school, Our Lady of Grace Roman Catholic primary school.
We were the new kids on the block.
John Kennedy was idolized by Roman Catholics. His picture was everywhere. Catholics in the 1960s States were viewed as ‘suspicious.’ We couldn’t be trusted. And whom would a Roman Catholic President owe his first allegiance to, the Pope or his country?
But good looks, a pretty picture book family, being a hero in World War II South Pacific Theatre, all these can cover a multitude of sin.
And being really wealthy helps too.
So I was in a new primary school class when Kennedy was shot. He was in Dallas in an open convertible car. The nuns announced the news over the loud speaker.
Everything stopped.
Everyone was quiet.
No one moved or knew what to do. The Nuns dismissed all classes early from school they were so distraught. They were praying he was still alive.
He wasn’t.
Donald and I left the school. Somehow the Nuns must have announced Lee Harvey Oswald’s name over the loud speaker. Boys in the school got it. They didn’t miss it.
So Donald and I were chased by a gang of ten plus year Catholic uniformed boys through our new streets of Brooklyn. We were new and our last name sounded the same as Lee Harvey’s. I used to get a lot of questions on this bit. ‘Are you related?’ No more.
‘Let’s split-they can’t follow us both.’
We did. They caught up to Donald and beat him up. It wasn’t too bad though. They were just at the beginning of being angry. Just beginning.
I didn’t know it then, but the real anger in America was building from that day the 22 of November.
Vietnam, Civil Rights, Peace movement, assassinations of Dr King and JFK’s brother, Bobby. Newtown. World trade. Iraq. Lone gunmen.
50 years and it is still building.
I am 60 now and pray one thing: I pray Ephesians 3:20 for my native country -Lord do more than I can ask or imagine-please begin gun control in America in my lifetime. Just begin gun control; just a start. That’s enough.
22:
reflections of a 23 year old Brit on the Assassination of JFK
What does JFK’s death mean to me?
Initially, nothing. Along time ago, a long way away a Man was assassinated.
Then I do the Maths and I realise that it has changed everything. Two men, three bullets, fifty years and billions of lives changed by the shift in systems and structures that resulted from that one historic day.
Today we are not merely remembering a tragic event that happened 50 years ago. We are remembering a tragic event that happened fifty years ago and continues to impact my world today. The tragedy continues. Fifty years on the assassination impacts me, the society I’m part of, the policies I live under, the security that’s seeped into our state. It’s all largely determined by the events that went before us.
The lesson I’m taking from the 50th memorial of JFK’s assassination? Today shapes tomorrow, but crucially, today also shapes 2063. How can my actions today, make tomorrow a better day? How can my actions today make 2063 a better world?
A clean heart, David’s Psalms of remembrances
Hi–This is the link to St. Luke’s @ Oseney Crescent talk I gave on 27 October. Below is a written opening text of the planned talk. Read, then if you have 34 minutes, listen. Cheers
This week I will be speaking primarily from the Message version about the person of David. How did he learn to live in his own story? He composed and sung his story in the Psalms. Our theme: ‘a clean heart: David’s Psalms of remembrances.’ This is how David remembered who he was, where he came from, what was his root: God was his story and David sung of Him. Yet, he also sang of himself and ourselves-certainly he sings parts of my life. These are David’s Psalms of remembrances. We will be looking at four aspects of remembrances:
David learns to live on his own story by worship; he worships by composing singing, sharing and praying his story in Psalms. The Psalms are his remembrances; his story with Him. And these stories, these Psalms? They have become others’ stories, others’ remembrances.
What remembrances do we have? From God? To God? Remembrances differ from memories: memories can float, pop, journey into our hearts and minds at any time. We can’t really control them; we manage them. They are from a deep part of us, some would say they spring from our unconscious. Remembrances we create; we consciously control. God’s remembrance for us? His Word -That is how he connects with and gifts, treasures us
And how can we see the Word? Thru His story with us: Jesus’ story. Jesus, the Word made flesh.
this is the last of ‘MYC’ pictures of priscilla from our city, MYC. What is MYC? MYC has been pictures of Priscilla, myself and our children and granchildren.
My city is where Priscilla my wife of 33 years is. The pictures of her and our children and our grandchildren are called MNYC on this blog: my NYC. Our city now is London. People we meet in the UK sometimes ask, ‘Where are you from?’ We both say as one voice ‘Hampstead, London.’ Some then ask, ‘Where are you originally from?’
We are orginally from MYC. The book of Hebrews describes MYC,
Hebrews 11:
13-16 Each one of these people of faith died not yet having in hand what was promised, but still believing. How did they do it? They saw it way off in the distance, waved their greeting, and accepted the fact that they were transients in this world. People who live this way make it plain that they are looking for their true home. If they were homesick for the old country, they could have gone back any time they wanted. But they were after a far better country than that—heaven country. You can see why God is so proud of them, and has a City waiting for them.
Our city, I believe, has many things, many peoples, many tears. I believe it is full of swans, children and granchildren; friends and family; Brits and Americans; daughters and adopted daughters. And a son, Joey.
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