Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 69​

Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit,

and news of him spread throughout the whole region. He taught in their synagogues and was praised by all.

January 2019 has nearly passed but today's readings remind us, this is still the month of new beginnings. The reading from Nehemiah recalls the restart of history in Jerusalem as the Jews returned from exile and rebuilt their temple. The new building wasn't much; it couldn't compare with the long-destroyed  Temple of Solomon; but it was a work of love and, so long as the Persian Empire lasted, it was a safe, peaceful place to worship God. The people wept tears of gratitude as the governor Nehemiah and the high priest Ezra performed the rituals of dedication.

That ancient story provides context for Jesus' inaugural sermon in Nazareth for we are always beginning again.

Several years ago I wrote a sestet about the mystery of new beginnings. A sestet is a highly structured poem of six and a half stanzas, each of six lines. Each line of the first stanza ends with a word which is repeated six times throughout the rest of the poem. I didn't follow the form exactly, but it's not a bad effort at poetry:

A moment passes by with every breath 
And the future, channeled through this hasty now
Gives way to a backlog of opportunities
Lost, never reclaimed or rediscovered
Even as an infinity of futurities unimaginable
Eagerly pile up beyond this narrow strait.

Dear Aging Heart, we have walked an ancient street
Which anguished time forgot, with labored breath
Navigating cycles of years with imagined
Pleasures that seemed so real then, but now
They reel like errant importunities.
Can memories unlimited discover

In rude stories unrued, undiscovered
Airs or gusts of goodness? The straight
Path on which I set out despite the portents
Was fair enough, I think; and yet I breathe
Worrisome belabored stories and I know
That no one – or few – can imagine

The troubles I have caused. But doesn’t Imagination
Work with Grace and Bliss to cover
The past in future glory? And the now
Has a mystic, magic madness that straightens
Twisted, tortured traumas until their breath
Comes easily and their importance

Sounds of blessed opportunities.
No one on this side of the grave imagines
The endless openings that curl and wreathe
Even yet around each unrecovered
Moment of the past. An amazing now,
Bending under futures’ pressures straightens

And heals even that most regretted traitor’s
Kiss. It harrows hell and finds unfortunates
Who could not imagine or dream of knowing
Happiness. Their lives lost and unmanaged,
Unremembered shall be recovered
And they will rise up breathing.