Incommunion

The Fall by Aaron Haney

by Aaron Haney

I read about the fall of a bishop today
It makes me sad and prone to wander
I took my dog to the park and let her run

He was my first Archpastor in a new-found Faith
He is a lonely old man with an alcohol problem
I imagine he’s been feeling pretty small these days

I hear a voice pick up the leaves like wind and say,
“Bless God for the coming of a fall…”

Why do I use such shoddy materials to build a life?
I build indiscriminately, pell-mell, without much thought
It is a poor strategy, shortsighted, a flimflam thing

How long does it take for something so precarious to topple?
I need something to come and shake it daily, a test
Otherwise its collapse becomes inevitable, a matter of time

I hear a voice pick up the leaves like wind and say,
“Bless God for the coming of a fall…”

I think of a story of the foolish building on sand
of a myth where a boulder need continually be pushed up a hill
of the Golden Mouth praying for help to make a good beginning

The Sacraments as stones and the Spirit as mortar
My structure continually shaken without bringing despair
The grace of God to start again, more humble, more obedient, more careful

I hear a voice pick up the leaves like wind and say,
“Bless God for the coming of a fall…”

Written on a sad day, looking for meaning in the removal of a bishop from service and his placement in alcohol treatment.

❖ IN COMMUNION / issue 63 / Winter 2012