Shawna Atteberry

Baker, Writer, Teacher

Does Lent Never End?

It’s the fifth week of Lent–yes fifth. And every year at about this time, I am ready for Lent to be over, like I was ready for winter to be over by the third week.

Lent the time of self-denial and getting rid of things that hamper your growth with God and your growth as a person. It’s a time of self-examination. It’s a time of major pruning in the Christian calendar.

I’m tired of Lent, of confession, and the the tempetures still dropping down into 30s. I’m tired of my Lenten discipline: making time to meditate 20 minutes a day. I am ready for this season to end.

Aah, but there are signs that the physical winter, as well as the winter of the soul are coming to an end. Green is shooting up through what has died.

Life is once again coming from death, and Lent is coming to its end. Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. We’ll remember and celebrate Jesus’ final entry into Jerusalem while we hold in tension that, while we are singing “Hosanna to the highest!” by Good Friday we will be shouting “Crucify him!” Maundy Thursday is the reminder of the new commandment Jesus gave the disciples the night he washed their feet and shared Passover with them: “Love one another as I have loved you.” And how we as the Body of Christ fail so miserably at that most of the time. Then Good Friday: candles are extinguished as we recount his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. One by one the candles will be extinguished until the church is dark and the Cross is shrouded in black. Even the Paschal light will be carried out. Christ is in the grave. Vigil Saturday: a day of the inbetween. A day of knowing Christ died, but that he also rose. But we must wait. We must wait until Easter morn when the sun breaks through the darkness and the cry rings out: “He is risen!” “He is risen indeed!” Then we can once again shout our hallelujas! I miss hallelujas.

But not yet. Not yet. This is still Lent, but the signs of the Resurrection are all around me.

 

Winter is gone, and Lent has almost run its course, and new life waits on the other side.

 

Fifth Sunday in Lent

This a day late, but I was not on the computer much this weekend. My sermon combines the Gospel reading for yesterday, John 12:1-8 with Matthew 26:6-16.

Scripture Reading: Isaiah 43:16-21; Psalm 126; Philippians 3:4b-14; John 12:1-8

Risky Love
Matthew 26:6-16; John 12:1-8

“Artful Eddie lacked nothing. He was the slickest of the slick lawyers. He was one of the roars of the Roaring Twenties. A crony of Al Capone, he ran the gangster’s dog tracks. He mastered the simple technique of fixing the race by overfeeding seven dogs and betting on the eighth.

“Wealth. Status. Style. Artful Eddie lacked nothing.

“Then why did he turn himself in? Why did he offer to squeal on Capone? What was his motive? Didn’t Eddie know the sure-fire consequences of ratting on the mob?

“He knew, but he’d made up his mind.

“What did he have to gain? What could society give him that he didn’t have? He had money, power, prestige. What was the hitch?

“Eddie revealed the hitch. His son. Eddie had spent his life with the despicable. He had smelled the stench of the underground long enough. For his son, he wanted more. He wanted to give his son a name. And to give his son a name, he would have to clear his own. Eddie was willing to take a risk so that his son could have a clean slate. Artful Eddie never saw his dream come true. After Eddie squealed, the mob remembered. Two shotgun blasts silenced him forever.

“Was it worth it?

“For the son it was. Artful Eddie’s boy lived up to the sacrifice.”
(Max Lucado, And the Angels Were Silent)

Max Lucado calls this risky love: “love that is willing to take a chance. Love that goes out on a limb. Love that makes a statement and leaves a legacy. Sacrificial love.”

A week before Jesus died we see two very different responses to his ministry of love: two of His friends decided to go out on a limb and show their love for Him while the religious leaders and Judas plot his death.

Simon the leper threw a banquet for Jesus about a week before Jesus died. Apparently, Jesus had healed Simon, although we have no Biblical record of it. It was a risky thing for Simon to have Jesus in his house. Jesus was on the chief priest and elders’ hit list. They were tired of being outdone by a nobody from Galilee, and they had decided to kill Him. Simon took a chance inviting Jesus into his home and throwing a party for Him.

Simon remembered that Jesus had taken a risk on him. Jesus was the one who had ignored the regulations and had touched Simon and healed him. When no one else would have anything to do with Simon, Jesus did. Jesus did more than just heal Simon: He gave him his life back. Where Simon had been an outcast, he was once again part of a community. Where Simon had been all alone, he was now part of a family and had friends. Where there was only death, now there was life. Simon was not going to do less for Jesus. It did not matter what the religious leaders or anyone else thought. As long as Simon had a house, Jesus would have a place to eat, rest, and sleep, no matter what it might cost him.

Simon was not the only one who went out on a limb for Jesus. A woman at the banquet showed her love for Jesus as well.

John names the woman who anointed Jesus with expensive perfume as Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus whom Jesus raised from the dead. According to John this feast happened right after Jesus raised Lazarus. What must have been going through Mary’s mind as she watched Jesus and Lazarus? The scene she would never forget was before a tomb. She would never forget Jesus calling out, “Lazarus, come out!” And her brother came. Not long before she had been mourning her brother’s death. Now he sat with Jesus at Simon’s table eating, laughing, living.

Notice that Mary’s act of love was not spontaneous. She had carried the bottle of perfume from her house to Simon’s. She wanted to show Jesus, in a tangible way, how much she loved Him, so she planned ahead. Her gift was costly–the perfume was worth a year of wages. It might have been the only thing of value she had, and she poured it out (along with herself) on Jesus. She gave Jesus her best.

Mary gave her best to Jesus, then of all people, Jesus’ own disciples criticized her. Almsgiving was encouraged at all times in the Jewish faith, but there was special emphasis on giving to the poor during Passover week. Gerard Sloyan tells us: “Jesus defends Mary by maintaining that she has done a ‘good service’ or work. The rabbis discussed the relative importance of two kinds of “good works”: giving money to the poor and burying the dead. The latter was given a higher priority, because it could not, like almsgiving, be done at any time but only at the required time, and also because it involved personal service, not an impersonal gift of money.” Jesus simply recognizes “that giving to the poor is an ongoing obligation, not one that has to be done at the right time or not at all.” Mary “has performed the superior ‘good work’ by preparing his body for burial at the right time” (John). Jesus quickly defended her act of love, and promised that she would not be forgotten for expressing risky love.

Notice the sharp contrasts between Mary and Judas. Mary lavishes her money on a gift for her Master; Judas bargains away his teacher for a measly thirty pieces of silver. Judas the one who should be risking all to serve Jesus sells Him out because Jesus is not the Messiah he expected. Mary has only seen some of Jesus’ miracles and heard some of His teachings. Judas has seen and heard all of them. Judas is part of the twelve; Mary cannot be because she is a woman. And yet it is Mary who realizes that Jesus means what he says: He is going to die. In a prophetic act, she prepares Him for His death while Judas makes sure it happens.

In this passage, we see four responses to Christ: 1) the plotting of the religious leaders to kill him; 2) the sacrificial response of love from Simon and Mary; 3) the pettiness of the disciples; and 4) the betrayal of Judas. And how about us? Do we respond to Jesus with outright rejection as did the leaders; with the pettiness of the disciples; with calculated self-interest as did Judas; or with an outpouring of our love as did Mary and Simon?

As we come to the close of Lent and look forward to the Passion week, which will start next Sunday, Palm Sunday Who are we? Are we the religious leaders who refuse to let Jesus shows us what it really means to follow God? Are the disciples: it’s okay to give some, but not too much? After all someone might take advantage of us. Are we Judas: do we calculate how much we need to obey in order to get Jesus to do what we whant him to? When Jesus turn out not to be what we think he should be, do we walk away? Or are we Mary and Simons? Willing to give Jesus the best of all we have and pour out our love, time, and possession on him?

Traditionally Lent is a time to be generous: to reach out and minister to those who suffer. To minister to the poor who are still with us. To take seriously Jesus’ words that whatever we do for the least of us, we do for him. In two weeks we will be celebrating His resurrection. Until then what will we do? How will we show the love which Mary and Simon did? Or will we be petty with our time and resources as the disciples were? Or will we be like Judas and only perform an act with something in it for us? I don’t know who the lepers and poor are in your day-to-day life. But I do know there are people all around us who need to see the risky love that Simon and Mary showed Jesus. As we look to the Crucifixion: the ultimate act of risky love, God calls us to share that love with those around us: our family, friends, neighbors, and our enemies. So make that phone call, write that note, go out and have coffee. Remember that “some day” may never come. And when you wonder: Does risky love really work? Just ask the son of Artful Eddie. “Had Eddie lived to see his son Butch grow up, he would have been proud.

“He would have been proud of Butch’s appointment to Annapolis. He would have been proud of the commissioning as a World War II Navy pilot. He would have been proud as he read of his son downing five bombers in the Pacific night and saving the lives of hundreds of crewmen on the carrier Lexington. The name was cleared. The Congressional Medal of Honor which Butch received was proof.

When people say the name O’Hare here in Chicago, they don’t think gangsters–they think aviation heroism. Think about it the next time you fly into the airport named after the son of a gangster gone good. The son of Eddie O’Hare.” (And the Angels Were Silent)

And if you are still wondering if risky love is worth the price, I have two words: The Resurrection.

The picture of O’Hare International is from Virtual Tourist.

What Is Theology?

I found this fascinating description of theology in Kenneth Leech’s Soul Friend: The Practice of Christian Spirituality. He begins by saying that the entire spiritual tradition of Eastern Christianity rejects the idea of “detached” theology:

Theology is an encounter with the living God, not an uncommitted academic exercise. The encounter cannot survive if its only locus is the lecture theatre or the library. It needs the nourishment of sacramental worship, of solitude, of pastoral care and the cure of souls. Theology must arise out of and be constantly related to a living situation. Again in Eastern Orthodox thought all theology is mystical.

There is therefore no Christian mysticism . . . it is an existential attitude which involves the whole [person]: there is no theology apart from experience; it is necessary to change, to become a new [person]. To know God one must draw near to him. No one who does not follow the path of union with God can be a theologian.

So there should be no conflict between theology and spirituality, still less should theology be seen as a mere theorectical framework for spiritual life. Rather, all theology is contemplative, a concentrated looking upon God as revealed in Christ, and manifested in lives which are hidden with Christ in God.

It is with the mystery of renewal of human souls that all true theology and all spiritual direction is concerned.

What do you think theology is? What is your definition? Would anything look different in our Christian—both personally and in the community faith—if this is what we believed about theology and life in Christ?

Fourth Sunday in Lent

Scripture Readings: Joshua 5:9-12; Psalm 32; 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

God, full of grace and mercy
You never turn away anyone who seeks you.
You wait for us with open arms
To turn from our sinful and vain ways,
And come to You:
To be healed,
To be reconciled,
To be like Christ.
We come to You, gracious God.
We come to be healed
And to be reconciled.
We come to be empowered
So we can be your ambassadors of hope and grace
To a world that desperately needs Your love and compassion.
Amen.

In The Mother’s Tale Sally tells the story of the prodigal’s mother and what she could have been thinking and feeling when her youngest son left home.

Mother Laura has a sermon on The Prodigal Son that looks at the parable in a very different way than most of us have heard it.

On RevGalBlogPals Sue has posted a prayer from the prodigal’s point of view.

Sermon: Lost and Restoration

This was a Lenten sermon I preached two or three years ago. St. Patrick is a big part of the sermon, so I thought it would be good to post it today.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

“Loss and Restoration”
Ruth 1

A fleet of 50 longboats weaved its way toward the shore, where a young Roman Brit and his family walked. His name was Patrick, the 16-year-old son of a civil magistrate and tax collector. He had heard stories of Irish raiders who captured slaves and took them “to the ends of the world,” and as he studied the longboats, he no doubt began imagining the worst.

With no Roman army to protect them (Roman legions had long since deserted Britain to protect Rome from barbarian invasions), Patrick and his town were unprepared for attack. The Irish warriors, wearing helmets and armed with spears, descended on the pebbled beach. The braying war horns struck terror into Patrick’s heart, and he started to run toward town.

The warriors quickly demolished the village, and as Patrick darted among burning houses and screaming women, he was caught. The barbarians dragged him aboard a boat bound for the east coast of Ireland.

Patrick was sold to a cruel warrior chief, whose opponents’ heads sat atop sharp poles around his palisade in Northern Ireland. While Patrick minded his master’s pigs in the nearby hills, he lived like an animal himself, enduring long bouts of hunger and thirst. Worst of all, he was isolated from other human beings for months at a time. Far from home, he clung to the religion he had ignored as a teenager. Even though his grandfather had been a priest, and his father a town councilor, Patrick “knew not the true God.” But forced to tend his master’s sheep in Ireland, he spent his bondage mainly in prayer.

After six years of slavery Patrick escaped to the European continent. Many scholars believe Patrick then spent a period training for ministry on an island off the south of France. But his autobiographical Confession includes a huge gap after his escape from Ireland. When it picks up again “after a few years,” he is back in Britain with his family. It was there that Patrick received his call to evangelize Ireland—a vision like the apostle Paul’s at Troas, when a Macedonian man pleaded, “Help us!”

“I had a vision in my dreams of a man who seemed to come from Ireland,” Patrick wrote. “His name was Victoricius, and he carried countless letters, one of which he handed over to me. I read aloud where it began: ‘The Voice of the Irish.’ And as I began to read these words, I seemed to hear the voice of the same men who lived beside the forest of Foclut …and they cried out as with one voice, ‘We appeal to you, holy servant boy, to come and walk among us.’ I was deeply moved in heart and I could read no further, so I awoke.”

Despite his reputation, Patrick wasn’t really the first to bring Christianity to Ireland. Pope Celestine I sent a bishop named Palladius to the island in 431 (about the time Patrick was captured as a slave). Some scholars believe that Palladius and Patrick are one and the same individual, but most believe Palladius was unsuccessful (possibly martyred), and Patrick was sent in his place. In any event, paganism was still dominant when Patrick arrived on the other side of the Irish Sea. “I dwell among gentiles,” he wrote, “in the midst of pagan barbarians, worshipers of idols, and of unclean things.”

Patrick was in his mid-40s when he returned to Ireland. Palladius had not been very successful in his mission, and the returning former slave replaced him. Intimately familiar with the Irish clan system (his former master, Milchu, had been a chieftain), Patrick’s strategy was to convert chiefs or kings first, who would then convert their clans through their influence. Reportedly, Milchu was one of his earliest converts.

Predictably, Patrick faced the most opposition from the druids, who practiced magic, were skilled in secular learning (especially law and history) and advised Irish kings. Biographies of the saint are replete with stories of druids who “wished to kill holy Patrick.” “Daily I expect murder, fraud or captivity,” Patrick wrote, “but I fear none of these things because of the promises of heaven. I have cast myself into the hands of God almighty who rules everywhere.”

Indeed, Patrick almost delighted in taking risks for the gospel. “I must take this decision disregarding risks involved and make known the gifts of God and his everlasting consolation. Neither must we fear any such risk in faithfully preaching God’s name boldly in every place, so that even after my death, a spiritual legacy may be left for my brethren and my children.”

Patrick continued to concentrate the bulk of his missionary efforts on the country’s one hundred or so tribal kings. As kings converted, they gave their sons to Patrick in an old Irish custom for educating and “fostering” (Patrick, for his part, held up his end by distributing gifts to these kings). Eventually, the sons and daughters of the Irish were persuaded to become priests, monks, and nuns.

From kingdom to kingdom (Ireland did not yet have towns), Patrick worked much the same way. Once he converted a number of pagans, he built a church. One of his new disciples would be ordained as a deacon, priest, or bishop, and left in charge. If the chieftain had been gracious enough to grant a site for a monastery as well as a church, it was built too and functioned as a missionary station.

Though he was not solely responsible for converting the island, Patrick was quite successful. He made missionary journeys all over Ireland, and it soon became known as one of Europe’s Christian centers.

Patrick was not the first or the last to be taken to a place he did not want to go. Neither was he the first to go to a place he might not be well received. In our passage today we are going to meet two women—one women was taken to a foreign country by her husband during famine. The other woman chose to leave her country for one where she might not ever be accepted. Ruth and Naomi both knew what it was like to live in a foreign land. They also knew what is like to lose or leave behind everything one has known.

Ruth 1:1-21
This story starts in perilous times—“In the days when the judges ruled.” Like England and Ireland in Patrick’s day was dangerous, so was Israel of Ruth and Naomi’s day. In fact Judges has just ended with a cycle of stories that has graphically shown how far Israel had gone in their disobedience, rebellion, and adultery. Judges has just ended with a story of horrible abuse, murder, the tribes of Israel nearly wiping out the tribe of Benjamin, then the final acts of kidnapping and forced marriage. The narrator of Judges final evaluation of the entire book in 21:25 is “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” “In those day when the judges ruled.” In those days this story takes place.

The story starts off with the information that there is a famine in Israel, so a man, Elimelech, his wife, Naomi, and their two sons went to Moab where the famine did not reach. Then Elimelech died. Naomi was a widow, but she still had her two sons; she was still a mother. Her sons married then there was hope for grandchildren. But after ten years of marriage there were no children, and then the sons died. For all intents and purposes Naomi lost everything that gave her identity in her world—she was no longer a wife or mother, and she had no grandchildren. Like Patrick she had been taken to a foreign land and lost everything she held dear: her family. Just as Patrick, being a slave in Ireland became essentially a non-person, so did Naomi. She had no one to provide for her, protect her, or care for her in old age.

In verse 6 we find that Naomi has discovered that the “LORD had considered his people and given them food.” She decides to return to her homeland, and her daughters-in-law go with her. Before they get far into the journey, Naomi tells them to return to their own mothers’ homes. There is no reason for them to go with her: she cannot give them the secure future they will need. She is old. Even if she were married and could have more children immediately, it would be years before they could marry Ruth and Orpah and provide homes for them. Naomi does not want her daughters in law to suffer the same fate she has.

Orpah obeys her mother-in-law and returns to her own mother’s house. But Ruth stays. Ruth makes the same decision that Patrick made when he decided to return to Ireland to preach the good news–she decides to leave everything she has known and follow Naomi back to her homeland. Ruth will not abandon Naomi: she will go with Naomi. Naomi’s people will become Ruth’s people and Naomi’s God will take the place of Ruth’s gods. Ruth will leave her home, her religion, and her land to insure that Naomi is taken care of and provided for. Later in Ruth her actions toward Naomi will be called “loyalty.” Loyalty translates the Hebrew word chesed—the word that is used to describe the covenant love and loyalty between God and God’s people. This Gentile woman, a Moabite, will be commended for showing covenant love toward Naomi, an Israelite.

Ruth and Naomi return to Bethlehem where Naomi describes what has happened to her life in verses 20-21. She left as a wife and mother—she left as a person who had security and stability. She now returns a widow and childless, which in her society means no identity as a person. Like many of us do when we suffer loss and hard times in life Naomi blames God. But through the rest of the book God is going to be working through Ruth, Boaz, and Naomi herself to restore what Naomi has lost and to create a home for Ruth who left hers.

Like Naomi, Ruth, and Patrick all of us go through times of loss and times when we must leave parts of our lives behind. Sometimes the losses are huge, like Naomi’s—husband, children, and home. Sometimes the losses are jobs, health, or friends. Sometimes our losses aren’t big, but they are significant to us. Then there are times like Ruth when we will leave behind parts of our lives. All of us know missionaries who have literally left everything they have known to follow God’s call on their lives. I have also known people who have left very well-paying jobs because they could not do their job and keep their Christian ethics. And just as there are little things we lose, there are also little things we leave. They may not look like much to anyone else, but to us they were a significant part of our lives.

We’re in the season of Lent. It’s the time the church traditionally dwells on the themes of loss and leaving behind the world. There are those who do give up something for Lent. But whether we do that or not, we are all called upon to look at our lives in the light of the grace that God has given us. Because we have received a salvation we could not earn and did not deserve, we look at how our lives reflect what God has done in our lives. Are we living in the joy of our salvation? Are we obeying God? Are we doing everything we can to make room in our lives for God? Are we sharing God’s love with others? And as we reflect on our lives in the light of this grace, we may be called on to lose something dear to us. We might be called to leave behind something we thought we could never live without.

But as we live in times of loss and leaving parts of our life behind, we need to remember that Ruth does not end with the return to Bethlehem and all that Naomi has lost, and all that Ruth has left behind. Ruth goes to the fields to gather grain for Naomi and herself. The town notices and talks about this Gentile woman’s loyalty to an Israelite widow and her hard work to provide food for her. When called upon to take care of his family, Boaz goes above and beyond the law and duty to marry Ruth and provide a home for both Ruth and Naomi. And Ruth ends with the joyous celebration over the birth of her and Boaz’s first son. Naomi’s loss is restored, and what Ruth has left behind has been replaced. God has provided.

As we go through Lent our losses and what we leave behind is not the end of the story. Because the ending of Lent is not Good Friday—it’s Sunday—the day of the resurrection. Good Friday reminds us that there is no resurrection apart from death, but Good Friday is not the end of our story. There is resurrection and restoration. Because of that hope when God calls us to leave we can go; when we have losses, we can look forward toward restoration. As Ruth, Naomi, and Patrick found out: God can bring incredible redemption out of loss and leaving. God used Patrick to bring the gospel to a whole land and save it. Ruth and Naomi would go on, to not only be great grandmothers of Israel’s greatest king–but Ruth would be a great grandmother to the very Messiah who came to restore all of us to God.

Good news

I just heard back from Beacon Hill Books (which is the Church of the Nazarene’s publishing house), and the editor Bonnie wants me to submit 2—3 sample chapters, an outline, and a table of contents on a book about spiritual direction. Woot! I guess we know what I will be doing for the next couple of weeks.

RevGals Friday Five: Whatcha Doin'?

Well friends, this is one of those weeks when I simply must work today, which is normally my day off. I know, I know. We may tut-tut all we want, but the fact is, some weeks are like that. So, this week’s F5 is simple.

Name five things you plan to do today.

1. Go grocery shopping.

2. Go to Target.

3. Feed neighbor’s cat.

4. Make pizza for supper.

5. Continue to read Jim Butcher’s Proven Guilty, which is one of the Dresden Files. He’s giving me some good ideas for my own novel. (To see everything I’m reading, click “What I’m Reading” on the right. )

Did You See Jesus Today?

Hipchickmamma goes to seminary had this wonderful poem posted on her blog today, and I decided to copy her. It’s too go good not to share.

I saw Jesus yesterday,
she winked at me and said I looked really cute.

When I blushed
she said for me to smile more
it brings her light to my face.

Later I saw a homeless man,
I waved hello
and when he smiled
he winked at me,
his eyes glimmered too.

I found myself blushing,
not sure what to say or do.

I think I saw Jesus today
but mamma said I
must be crazy
“‘cuz Jesus don’t wear no dirty suit.”

Sister says Jesus only wear white.
When I mentioned daddy’s
pimpin’ white shoes
mamma slapped me
said not to make light.

I won’t tell her
I saw Jesus yesterday,
and Jesus was a girl
dressed in blue,
with pretty brown eyes
and scraggly brown hair
crying as she held her baby tight.

She looked so sad,
until I stopped to say hi.

Have you seen Jesus today? This week?

The Last Couple of Weeks

I’m sure you’ve noticed the silence of my blog. I have depression, and a couple of weeks ago it swung into action. I think the trigger was preparing the presentation for the University of Phoenix and the assessment and interview (and how I worried the whole thing to death). The last two weeks have been filled with insomnia, headaches, dizziness, fatigue, worry, and anxiety. I found a great psychatrist here, and in addition to Paxil, which I already take, I am now on a small dose of Clonazepam as well. I’ve been on the Clonazepam for a few days, and I already feel better. I am sleeping (thank goodness), and my anxiety levels are way down. I am no longer worrying about every little thing. Honestly this last week it was hard for me to do just day-to-day things like getting out of bed and eating, much less writing.

It has also helped that the weather is springlike, and I can get outside and walk down to the lake (I’m enjoying it while it lasts: it’s supposed to snow this weekend). It’s absolutely beautiful. I took pictures, but I can’t find the cord to download them onto the computer. I am feeling back to normal with regular times of prayer, meditation, and exercise. I am also amping up the journaling so I can keep track of my moods and patterns. One thing depression teaches you is that you have to take care of yourself.

Writing a series on my experiences in depression is on the list of the subjects I want to write on, so you will probably start seeing posts on depression, how I’ve managed it, and what I’ve learned from it.

Poetry: Holy Ground

I am holy ground.
My body is holy ground.
All around me they scream: “Unholy!”
The world cries: “Unholy!”
The church sniffs derisively “Unholy!”
Unholy by virtue of my sex.
Unholy because of my body.
My body can’t be what it is—
mature,
full,
curvy,
feminine.
No–my body is never too age.
I am to be a perennial adolescent—
never to grow;
never to age.
My body is not to be spoken of:
it’s cycles,
it’s fertility,
it’s sexuality (what girls have that?),
it’s sensuality.
It’s power.
The “M” words are never spoken.
I am forced to hold my mysteries deep in myself.
My body cannot be seen:
it must be covered.
It’s temptation in a skirt.
It’s a sin waiting to happen.
But my body can be exploited:
TO SELL!
TO SELL!
TO SELL!
Isn’t this prostitution?
So what does it mean that I am holy ground?
What does it mean the my body is holy ground?
What does it mean for me—
A Woman—
to be holy ground?

©2007 Shawna R. B. Atteberry