Maundy Thursday Daily dust over the jagged stair steps of toes, between the cracked skin; heels bruised by heat, small toes stoned by cobblestone.The wrong one is kneeling, sprinkling water over the wounded, a stream of fingers cleaning disciples’ feet as boils and blisters burst with new . . . . Continue Reading »
Out of the mouths of Holy Innocents the wailings of our weakness, our Herod knees bent now the better to swallow the words we’ve wallowed in, the tug-and-pull of the womb across the clinic’s lintel. In Rama there is weeping, in Charleston, in Bismark, in Portland, in Trenton, in . . . . Continue Reading »
by which we pacify with euphemism our planned transgressions, boundaries shifting convenience into correct countries is the language by which we pun on pleasure, pour into our mouths the here-and-now, an alphabet of aftertaste sour on our tongues is the two dead children alive again for the ten . . . . Continue Reading »
Fingernails scrubbed clean as latrines in the army, this symbol of a man dirties his thumb with our skin, the powdery ash riding high on his pores, not sinking in before he sketches the gray of our dirt-birth across a brow we were born to furrow. Listen to the sound of forgiveness: the crossing of . . . . Continue Reading »
I "Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning, burning, burning," we belted out on the Baptist church bus bound for Camp Born Again, refueled forever we knew for the faith with the oil of the holy. Hallelujah! II Through the cracked, creaky bedroom door of Aunt Martha's farmhouse, we watched the . . . . Continue Reading »
influential
journal of
religion and
public life
Subscribe
Latest Issue
Support First Things
