Blessed are the Meek
Moses, by turns raging and afraid, Was meek under the thunderhead whiteness, The glorious opacity of cloudy pillar. Loud is meek, buffeted by winds It changes shape but never loses Being: not quite liquid, hardly Solid, in medias res. Like me. Yielding to the gusting spirit All become what ministering angels Command: sign, promise, portent. Vigorous in image and color, oh, colors Of earth pigments mixed with sun Make hues that raise praises at dusk, At dawn, collect storms, release Rain, filter sun in arranged And weather measured shadows. Sunpatches.
I entered into my pastoral calling with a great charge of educational zest. My mind fairly tumbled with stories and facts, insights and perspectives, that give the life of faith such richness and texture. I had been on an exuberant foray into the country of Scripture and theology in my years of study and was eager to take others on safari with me. I knew I could rescue the Arian controversy from textbook dullness and ...1