Henry Ossawa Tanner, “The Annunciation” (1898)
Spiritual Sunday
My good friend Sue Schmidt, now in seminary, alerted me the following poem. As is usual the case with Sue, the poem she sent captures both the difficulty of religious awakening and the immense rewards. At the end I link to posts that Sue has written over the years.
Joseph, I’m Pregnant by the Holy Ghost
By Kilian McDonnell
Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man . . .planned to dismiss her quietly.–Matthew 1:19
Life was simple before that angel
pushed open the kitchen door,
announced light and trouble, as though
a foe had roiled the bottom of the well
and now the pail brings up only
murky water. I’m chosen for some
terrible grace beyond the well.
After short light long dark,
left to stumble through the Sinai
Desert. No manna to gather, no quail
to catch. Nothing. When I tell Joseph
I’m pregnant by the Holy Ghost,
he stares, ox-dumb in hurt. I’ve asked
him to believe that I, God’s
Moses-girl, part seas, give
Torah. He turns, leaves
without a word. Why should my dearest
love believe? Yahweh’s not fair.
Where’s the voice of light? Where
the pillar of fire? My man drops
me cold, as though I were a concubine
dismissed without a drachma for cheating
on her master’s blanket with that
swarthy Roman soldier from the barracks.
Joseph doesn’t expose me; I will not
be stoned. My heart eats Yahweh’s
cinders; I drink the last date wine
gone sour at the dregs.
God does nothing. But I carry life.
–from Yahweh’s Other Shoe
Sue encountered the poem in Paul S. Wilson’s Practice of Preaching. About the poem, Wilson writes,
McDonnell has an obvious gift for words. He somewhat humorously describes Mary’s experience of God as “short light long dark.” He speaks of Joseph dropping her “cold, as though I were a concubine” and of her heart eating “Yahweh’s cinders,” leading to her plaintive yet profound cry:
“God does nothing. But I carry life.”
There is rich paradox in his poems, as in even the title of one of his poems (and books), “Swift, Lord, You Are Not,” a poem that concludes with instruction to God:
Think less of galaxies.
Think small.
Then, without the heavy equipment,
stoop and hasten to help me.
Blog essays by Sue Schmidt
Come Holy Spirit, Come Heavenly Newt
A Blessing We Cannot Begin to Fathom
God Speaks to Us before We Are
Finding Peace along with the Lost Goat
Like a Cat Asleep on a Chair, Oh Lord