Читать книгу Mystery Without Rhyme or Reason - Michael Coffey - Страница 14

Lectionary 2 A

Isaiah 49:1–7

And now the LORD says, who formed me in the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob back to him, and that Israel might be gathered to him, for I am honored in the sight of the LORD, and my God has become my strength—he says, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” (Isa 49:5–6)

He walked into the church office with laptop and lunch bag,

set the coffee mug and stale scone on the desk alongside his Bible,

Scotch tape, and notes from phone calls never returned.

He Tweeted and emailed until his fingers floated off the home keys,

his hair beginning to lift with static electricity,

his feet rising from the blue carpet, his whole body feeling

as if it would soon press against the ceiling fan and hot lights,

his whole life a series of sneaked Wonka Fizzy Lifting Drinks

leaving him too light, lacking substance,

eventually he would float off to the cirrostratus clouds and disappear

beyond the exosphere and Neptune and unnamed constellations

and the event horizon, he would evaporate from memory

not even his dog would miss him.

And then the phone rings and the girl with the unexpected pregnancy

and the ninety-eight year old woman dying alone

and the light bulbs need replacing

before the hungry come to shop the pantry shelves

and the assembling again in the sanctuary where life

once more becomes humble, heavy enough with the holiness

required for there to be visible glory, the thick abiding presence

that holds us beloved on the sun-lit earth.