closure of the Good Shepherd in San Pedro Sula, Honduras

[joel]

At 2:20pm, the email read: "... El Buen Pastor is having its final church service tonight...He called from the church...because of the increasing violence in the neighborhood surrounding the church, the death of the child who belonged to the Sunday School, and the level of fear in the members of the church and the barrio, the decision was made to close the church for the time being.....he made a very emotional plea for our prayers.....for the members of the church, for the neighborhood, for the pastor, for all who are suffering there.......He said that Irene, Esperanza, and several of the 'matriarchs' of the church have left the neigborhood already......."

El Buen Pastor— that had been its name,
the tiny congregation that had served
San Pedro Sula. Now its last Amén
has said in faith, “So be it.” (What was prayed
is not for us to ask, but we could guess
it had to do with violence in the streets—
the murder of the congregation’s child,
left slaughtered like a shepherd’s lamb to wilder
beasts than bears and lions— the defeats
of countless hymns for strength to stay and bless
its neighborhood with hope where hell’s displayed
on bullet-ridden people. Not in vain—
we hope, we pray. But weapons haven’t swerved
from innocents before & now’s the same.)

[Hollweg]

You have tightly written a quite complex piece, here Joel. The form is subtle with rhymes in unexpected places -- which facilitates a more natural read.

[dadio]

Always love your poems, Joel and this is too.

[joel]

Tuesday, January 4

Psalm 3
1 Chronicles 4:24-43; Acts 9:23-35

I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak.
Ezekiel 34:16

Paul writes: The Lord said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for
my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9

Eternal Source of strength and healing, work in our weakness to bring
greater glory to your name. Open your eyes to recognize your strength in
those the world considers weak. Amen.

The ancient prophets, no less relevant,
speak eloquently their impassioned pleas—
their poetries of realistic life
in context of the language of divine
existence— through their mouths, a holy voice
would possibly insist on hope, for hope.
“Their injured bodies will I bind,” they read,
“Their weakness I’ll make strength instead.”
And yet— afraid— it seems a stretch to grope
for comfort in Love’s promises (God’s choice
to save so seemingly ignored), to mine
the faiths of yesterday when now is rife
with never-ending facts of death; but these
are what I have for hope benevolent.