Response #8 Stuffed Animals

Mysterious Theologian: Ben

Puffy

Puffy McKernan, 28 years old and still as beautiful as the day she was given to baby Elana.

Blessed are you, worn and dirty Stuffed Animal. When the night is dark and monsters lurk, you are my guardian who does not sleep.  When the fever comes and doctors leave, you are the healer who gladly soaks my sweat into your stitches.  When my parents fight and I flee to my room, you are the comforter who dries my tears with felted paws. When it is my birthday and I am alone, you are the guest who always comes to my party, eager to hide crumbs in your fur for later.  You smell of the shame of wet beds, the triumph of trees climbed, the joy of mud wallowed.  You are more precious to me than my final piece of candy, and yet when I met my very best friend, I will give you to that person.  Because you are love.  Amen. 

Response #6 Fingernails

Mysterious Theologian: Ben

First of all, Chase…maybe you should talk to someone about your relationship with fingernails…

800px-Fingernails2

Oh Sacred Fingernail, just as you formed the letters on the tablets of stone given to Moses, so too you traced every detail of my being into the dust which you gave life.  In your own image, you gave me fingers with which to caress and examine your creation.  Protect their tips from doors slammed in anger, trunks closed in thoughtlessness, and boxes dropped in weariness. Scrape away my fear, that like Thomas’s finger, I too may venture into the wounds of injustice in your resurrected and incarnate love.  And when anxiety overwhelms me, let me chew on the truth that you are always at my fingertips and taste all the places through which you have journeyed with me. Amen.

Challenge #5 Snow Sludge

Challenger: Ben

image

Snow Sludge:  After a beautiful snowfall everything is covered in a pure white blanket. But after a few days, when the weather starts to warm up that snow turns into a wet sludge mixed with all the grim and dirt of the city.  This photo was taken right out side my church in Brooklyn.  So Chase, where is God in this sludge?

Response #4 Smog

Mysterious Theologian: Benimage

Oh omnipresent Smog, though you formed me to filled with your pure Spirit, in my ignorance and greed I have corrupted your life-giving breath.  In your mercy you show yourself as a pillar of toxic cloud that I may see the sin which chokes my soul and be led out of the industrial wasteland that I have built. Guide me to no longer consume the fuels of fossilized death, but set me on fire with your Holy Spirit, that others may see my clear light and give you praise.  Amen.