What the hell do any of us know, O Eternal Mystery?
While we worship constancy and might,
mountains melt and remold like wax.
While we sing hymns in echoing caverns,
the Spirit waits upon those in prison.
While we pray to love our enemies,
the Church itself nurtures violence.
While we thirst for truth and order,
we get drunk on self-righteousness.
While we say “Believe us — here is God, and there too!”
a prescient slave girl is considered a threat to orthodoxy.
While we await God’s redemption from evil,
our loyalties fly high for military domination.
While we stake our place “so help me, God,”
creation is wise enough to tremble and bow.
While we die the daily death of change,
your love remains in all and through all.
You tried to make it known and living;
we preferred to make it certain and stagnant.
What the hell do any of us know, O Eternal Mystery?
on the Narrative and Revised Common Lectionaries