Poem for the third Sunday of Advent: JOY
Ken Sehested
The portal to Earth’s agony is the same for Heaven’s ecstasy. Both take us to that bewilding place beyond the world’s rule masquerading as reality, as natural, as divinely appointed. Here in this wild space free of rationed provision, hidden pain can be exposed; silenced voices, heard; shame, named and untangled. Here the disappeared marshal the festal parade of ascension to Glory’s reception.
Jubilate Deo!
Here, manna is provided beyond merit, profligate and extravagant. Here, water flows from sheer rock. The last, the least, the lost are gathered in the welcoming arms of the Beloved, whose might is manifest in mercy. With every such announcement, a multitude of heavenly hosts burst into boisterous acclaim and exuberant voice even as joyful refrains eclipse Earth’s fleshly grief and history’s consternation.
Jubilate Deo!
Here, every grave is robbed of its victory; every death forfeits its sting. Come every meadow and mountain, you raven and redwood, every plankton, every whale. Human and humus alike—adam and adamah—exult together. All put asunder are joined and rejoiced; the cast off, restored; the forgotten, remembered. The One who has bottled every tear now hosts a bounteous banquet, cups overflowing. Raise all praise for harvest home.
Alleluia, alleluia, in laetitia! Alleluia, alleluia, joy to ev’ry heart!
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14 December 2023
