canticle 23 for these times

God is the health care folk
all around us:
encouraging us to stay home;
reminding us to wash our hands
so we can help others be safe;
teaching us how to be mindful
and watch over ourselves and others.

even as we shelter in place,
we will not give in to fear,
for God is with us,
in those who call us and care for us,
in those who shop for us,
and those who treat us.

around a lonely table,
in a houseful of family,
in a hospital with strangers,
God feeds us with grace,
pouring out hope upon us,
filling us with peace in sleepless night.
i know, without any doubt,
that God's gentleness and compassion
are walking right beside us,
showing us the way home
to the One who holds us 
in Love's Heart forever.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 95

gospel, country, hip hop,

rock and roll, r & b, classical:

let every genre raise a song

to you, O God.

we will come jumping and jiving

into your living room, clapping

our hands in time to our songs:

for you are beyond words,

and music is the common

tongue to speak of you!

you cradle canyons in your hands

and shape Everests from dust,

you float islands like rafts

across the oceans of the world.

we come running to jump up

in your lap, and laugh as

you bounce us on your knees,

and then sit on the floor

as we play marbles together,

and you listen to our silly jokes.

you ask us to pay attention, and

oops!

we run off, slamming our doors

as hard as we can as if to test

how far your patience stretches.

but

if we put our ears

up to the doors and listen

very carefully, we might just hear

your heart beating slowly,

hoping we would come out

and sit at your feet to hear

your stories of grace

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 121

our eyes cast down onto

sheol’s road, you tip up

our chins so we can see hope

leaping over the horizon,

running our way through

creation’s flowery fields.

you help us to stay steady

on our feet in the gusts of life;

we won’t catch you daydreaming

you hold us, and all your children

tight to your heart, refusing

to nod off no matter how weary.

you are our babysitter, our guardian;

you are a shady oak on a hot day,

cooling us with sweet lemonade,

showing us how to use a telescope

to explore the moon each night.

you refuse to let the malicious

to gain power over us;

you wrap us in your arms

when we tremble with fear.

whether we are relaxing at home,

running errands, facing down bullies,

trying to stand up to injustice –

wherever, whenever; here, there;

yesterday, today, tomorrow

you are

with us, beside us, for us

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman  

canticle 32

i wish it was easier

to believe that you wipe

all my foolishness off the slate,

that you don’t hold a grudge

but pour out grace on me.

yet, when i hold it all in,

when i am not willing

to sit down at the table

and share my dumb mistakes,

well,

i feel so empty, so lost,

my soul is so parched

as if i have been in a desert.

but when i sit across from you,

rubbing my fingers in circles

on the tabletop, hoping the server

will come by with more tea;

when i clear my throat, start

to say something, stop,

start over again and, in a rush,

let the words slide over to your side,

you smile, grin, begin to chuckle,

break out into a hearty laugh and,

picking up the check, say,

‘let’s get out of here and

get on with living.’

we go out into the bright sunshine

where i start grabbing everyone

to let them know that, in you,

they find that haven of hope,

they find that island in an ocean of fears,

they find that shady tree on hot days,

they find the one they’ve been longing

to open their hearts so they might be mended.

if we listen carefully, if we write it down,

if we watch carefully, we will discover

that the mystery is really simple to solve –

quit insisting on our own way,

stop trying to pull you to follow us,

let go of all that anger than weighs us down,

and if we do, why

all that grumpiness, all those worries,

all those ‘what will happen if God . . .’

are washed away by those loving waters

of grace, hope, joy, and wonder

and we can holler our hearts out,

we can skip behind you, holding hands

with all the other mended souls,

glad that we finally opened our mouths

and heard your loving voice in our ears.

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman  

canticle 99

no single word describes you,

holiness of our hearts:

you sit on the floor playing jacks,

you walk the sidelines

as we run up and down creation’s pitch,

you could boss us around,

but chose to learn how to crawl

on your hands and knees just like us,

you join in the silly jingles

we make up to give you thanks.

you gave visions to Jeremiah

and spoke to Elijah in a still, small voice.

you taught Miriam how to dance

and sang backup for Hannah and Mary.

you listened to every voice,

every heartbreak, every hope

from those in Eden to this very moment.

on mountaintops and in clouds,

cooking breakfast on a beach

and sleeping in the back of a boat,

you taught us your dreams,

you showed us how to care for others.

you lean over to hear our souls,

you wipe every mistake we make

off the whiteboard of life.

you step between us

and the bullies who would taunt

us until we turn and run.

we sing your praises over and over,

in churches and on playgrounds,

in grocery stores and in classrooms,

in museums and malls, on boats and bicycles,

for everywhere we are, wherever we are,

we are standing on holy ground

holding tight to your hand.

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 2

all you conspiracy theorists,

all you worriers stockpiling supplies,

all you politicos claiming absolute everything,

all those convinced that only losers

wrap themselves in grace, hope, peace –

God is doubled-up in laughter,

wiping tears from their eyes,

ready to set all those folks straight,

to knock them off their narcissism:

‘look for my Beloveds,

my children,

who know my heart,

who share my soul,

they are transforming weapons

into musical instruments,

taking day-old bread

to make sandwiches for hungry kids’

knock down walls

to build shelters for rough sleepers.”

pay attention – you know-it-alls:

let your callous souls

be transfigured by compassion,

your bullying words

be turned into love’s language,

your life-destroying anger

become comfort for the broken.

then,

you will find new life

in my heart

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman

terrific Tuesday

except for the single parent
looking for that third job
to put food on the table;
except for those kids
who will be bullied by classmates
whose parents, preachers, and
political heroes tell them
that it is okay to treat others
in those ways;
except for that elder adult
who is trying to figure out
how to pay for medicine;
except for the people
trying to push water
out of their flooded homes,
businesses, schools;
except for that person
going in for (yet) another
round of chemo and radiation;
except for all those we
too often never notice,
it really is terrific Tuesday,
isn't it!?!

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 119:1-8

when we try

to walk your path,

you bless us by setting

us on our feet when we stumble.

when we listen

to your words and hopes,

we are blessed by

finding your heart;

when we do justice

and care for the vulnerable,

we know we are

following you as we should.

you whisper your dreams

to us, hoping we will

write them down when we awaken.

we long beyond longing

to be your faithful people,

so that we might not be mocked

for simply doing as you ask.

with the cracks in our hearts,

with our souls weeping for others,

we will sing glad songs to you,

songs of remembrance

of all you have shared with us;

songs which share the promise

that you will always be with us.

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 112

hallelujah!

when we worship God 

with dancing and singing,

we are filling God's heart with joy.

our children will fill universes

with grace and peace;

our grandchildren will bless others

with wonder and peace,

as they share from their gifts,

and plant justice in every heart.

they search for the forgotten

in the shadows, to fill them

with grace, forgiveness, and hope.

they will open savings accounts

for the oppressed and needy,

and put in their own money.

they shall stand strong 

in the oncoming path of cruelty,

so others will learn from their lives.

because their hearts are filled

with the whispers of God,

they are not afraid of liars.

they will never let fear

control their souls or actions,

and will turn anger and falsehoods

into paving stones for others.

they open their pantries

so that children will not hunger;

their thirst for justice for those

tossed aside by the world will not be quenched;

they melt down any awards given to them

into walkers and wheelchairs for their neighbors.

the mockers and knuckleheads notice

and cannot figure out their motives;

they shout louder and louder but,

like chaff, their words drift away

into the the breeze for forgetfulness.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 15

O God,
who have you made up
the guest room for?
For whom have you set out
a plate on the table?

those who try to keep
on the path of faithfulness,
and who do not keep
truth hidden within themselves;
who won't say an unkind word
about another (especially behind their back),
who care for others
as much as of themselves,
and who don't share gossip
over the backyard fence;
who don't give the haters
a second glance,
but respect those who
listen to God's whispers,
who stick to their word
even when others threaten them;
who freely open their
pockets and purses,
and will care for the most vulnerable,
when offered to look the other way.

these are the folks who
are planted deep in the world
to bear God's bouquets of
hope, grace, love, and peace

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman 

canticle 27

as i lie in the shadows,
you are my nightlight,
and i am not afraid of
monsters under the bed
or in the closet's corner.
when i am running from
my worst fears, you gather
me up in your safe arms.

you shield me from those
longing to feast on my worries;
you trip those who chase me
like bullies on a playground.

even when it seems the world
is against me, one and all,
i hear you whisper, 'don't be scared'
and as anger throws its worst at me,
you step in front to deflect it all.

my longing to be in your presence
is so deep i can almost taste it;
i desire to wander through 
the rooms of your heart, to 
discover all your delights 
and to sit with a warm cup of tea
as you answer the long list of questions
i have carried for so many years.

when despair stalks me in every moment,
you take me by the hand and
place me in hope's playroom
where we can spend days in peace.

surrounded by those who don't
know me or care for me, i look over
their heads, and see you coming,
and i begin to sing the songs of joy
the Spirit taught me so long ago.

i whisper, i croak, i shout, 
and you hear me, answering
with the invitation to come
and simply sit with you 
on the front porch in that
still, small silence of grace.

you never push me away
but draw me closer;
you will not toss me aside
in the bin of disrepute;
even if my family locks me out,
you open wide the door
of your heart to me.

when i stumble from pothole
to pothole, you grab my hand
to teach me how to skip down
the sidewalks of your neighborhood;
you will not let the liars or the haters
have the final word about me.

in every moment, through every shadow,
in the little child sharing a sandwich,
in the retiree mentoring a student,
in the nurse holding the hand of a patient,
in the prisoner raising a service dog,
your goodness breaks forth into sight.

give me the patience to simply wait,
gracious God, 
for your joy, your wonder, your peace,
your hope, your grace, your love;

to simply wait in faith.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman 

canticle 29

give God your praise, all creation,
pay attention to what God does.
place God's name on your lips in love;
set your sights on God's glory all around you.

we hear God's voice in the rain on the roof,
we hear God's booming laughter in thunder,
we hear God's word tumbling over the rapids.
God's voice gives healing to the broken,
God's voice offers hope to the forgotten.

God's voice shatters our pride,
God's voice knocks us off our pedestals.
God calls, and children turn cartwheels,
God sings, and old folks remember the refrain.

God's voice illumines the shadows
so we can find our way home.
God's voice shakes us out of our apathy;
God shakes us out of our silence towards injustice.

God whispers, and trees begin to dance
in great circles of joy,
and all creation shouts, 'hallelujah!'

God is in control of every drop of water,
especially those that baptize us.
God gives grace in every moment,
in every moment, fills the beloved with peace.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 72

give our leaders justice,
God of mercy;
not the justice which
seeks revenge, or condemns
others simply for who they are
or where they come from, but
that justice which lifts
the fallen to their feet,
which offers food to the hungry,
hope to the despairing.

give our leaders time,
God of every moment:
not those moments
to enrich themselves
or those closest to them,
not hours of self-adulation
or basking in cult-like cheers,
but days of service to others,
seeking the best for those they don't know,
leaving a legacy of kindness not indifference.

give our leaders awareness,
God of imagination:
so they might listen
and be willing to change their minds;
to see the struggles creation faces
and to set aside politics
in order to end all that damages
the gifts of all life around us.

give our leaders compassion,
God of the broken:
to care for the vulnerable
more than they do victory laps;
to notice the poor
more than they do polls;
to seek peace every chance given
rather than send troops at the drop of a hat.

give our leaders hope,
God of the open heart;
give our leaders grace,
God of endless wonder;
give our leaders humility,
God who became one of us:
so we may respect them
as servant leaders of all,
so we may join them
in being just, open communities,
so be may remember them
as those who were transformed
by your goodness and mercy
not by the shifting winds
of political fortune.

and we will bless you,
God of every place,
for the gifts of leaders
who bring the blessings
of grace, hope, peace, and love
to the people they serve.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 148

shout!
shout to God 
from the farthest galaxies
to snow-capped peaks!
let it rip, bass note singing frogs;
twitter away, birds at the feeders!
sun and moon in eclipses' embrace;
bright stars in brittle skies, echo the songs!
sing out loud, clouds drifting across the sky;
join in the refrain, whitewater rapids!
everyone, everything, everywhere, 
join in the choruses composed 
to honor Imagination's heart!
God turned emptiness into wonder,
building bridges across rivers,
tearing down walls of resistance.
everyone, everything, everywhere,
shout from the rooftops, the sea floors,
the blistering beaches, the silent forests -
grizzly bears and giant squids,
campfires and snow families, 
soft gentle breezes and window rattling gusts
all telling of God's delight!
sure-footed mountain goats, orange groves,
cocoa bean plants, ornament bearing trees;
kittens tiptoeing after sunbeams,
sheep offering their wool for warmth,
tortoises seeing the finish live,
and puffins bobbing in the seas!
know-it-alls and students fretting over exams,
teachers and tellers, buyers and seller;
babies holding on to grandparents' pinkies,
little girls dancing with their feet on their dads!
planets and parrots, sea lions and sparrows,
the voiceless and those with perfect pitch,
the wise, the wealthy, the needy, the foolish,
let all join hands and hearts, hopes and dreams,
speaking with fingers and sighing in the silence,
for no one has a monopoly
on telling God of our great love.

Shout!

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 146

our souls rejoice in you,
God of wonder and grace!
we sing carols of joy
in this season and in all
the days to come, until
there are no more!

help us to learn not
to trust politicians
be they right-wing,
left-wing, wingless; or
those who could care
less about others.
their words turn to dust
just as they do, and their
plans drift away like chaff.

but our hope is in you,
God of our faith grandparents;
hope which comes, not
just once a year on a holy night,
but is ours every breath we take,
a gift from the One who
flung galaxies into the heavens,
who never breaks a promise,
who lifts the forgotten to their feet,
who places extra chairs at dinner
until everyone has a place.

God picks the locks on
every fear and anger
which imprisons us;
God tilts up our heads
from  our devices, so
we can see the needy;
God teaches us justice
as the basic skill we need.
God keeps an eye on those
we have turned our backs on;
God cradles the lonely mourners
and sits in doorways with kids
who have been locked out
of the homes they grew up in;
God holds each of us accountable
on how we treat the vulnerable.

God's love, hope, grace, peace,
wonder, joy, welcome never become
obsolete.
our souls rejoice in you,
God of grace and wonder!

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman

Mary's canticle

as i push the cart
down the hallway
to clean the next room,
i sing wonders to
the One who works
at my side in every moment.
God watches the care
and love with which
i serve others, even
though they look
right past me, for
God will share my life
with those who follow me;
God does amazing things
for those who are forgotten,
yet who continue to trust
they are cradled in God's love.
God strengthens those worn out
by three jobs a week, while
the supervisors forget what
they are supposed to be doing
to impress the CEOs.
God knocks down the stone
monuments to power abusers,
building homes for those
relegated to crowded shelters.
God spends all night
cooking a banquet for all
who wonder about their next meal,
while giving directions to the food bank
to folk who could skip a few dinners.
God supports all who
visit the prisoners, care for the vulnerable,
gather in the abandoned,
in thanks for God's grace
in their own lives,
just as the stories of what God
did for our grandparents in the faith
are told over and over
until they become seeds
which bring forth a harvest
of hope, grace, peace, inclusion
for all of God's people.

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 80

hear us, Tender God,
who gathers us
like a border collie!
you sit on a park bench
built from the songs of angels,
smiling as you watch us
swing high up into the sky, and
when we scrape our knees,
run to pick us up,
kissing our boo-boos!

run quickly, our Parent,
to sweep us up in your arms!

when we speak hollow words
to you instead of our hearts,
our soup is flavored with your tears,
and our bread tastes stale;
even our playmates know
how foolish we have been,
giggling behind our backs
with one another.

run quickly, our Parent,
to sweep us up in your arms!

you took a runner of strawberries
from your garden,
so it might take root
wherever your children live.
it slowly spreads over the lawns
and curls under the trees,
it sneaks towards the sides houses,
and creeps down to the ponds.
when we would make preserves
and keep the jars for ourselves,
you invite everyone to come
and fill their baskets for free,
letting little children get the juice
all over their faces and clothes.

take another look, Gardener of our hearts,
see how the runners might offer
food and joy to so many,
your gift becoming precious to others.
yes, we aren't good caretakers,
yes, we let the weeds creep in,
but you can teach us the right way
to care for all you have offered us,
taking us by the hand, so
slowly, carefully, we may become
master gardeners just like you!
then, we won't make the same mistakes
over and over, but share the bounty,
telling everyone who taught us
how to be good strawberry farmers!

run quickly, our Teacher,
to sweep us up in your arms!

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 50

enough!
God has had enough;
no more standing in the wings,
no more waiting for us
to do what we know we should do.

enough!
God has had enough:
no more keeping silent,
hoping our prayers will take shape,
that our thoughts will lead to action,
that our brokenness will bring healing.
calling us into the living room,
God holds a family meeting:

"enough!
i have had enough
of your kowtowing to the powerful,
your idols made of steel,
your worship of angry words and hearts;
you don't care about the air and water,
the creatures who are dying,
the species that are going extinct!

"enough!
if you hand me another plate
piled with thoughts and prayers,
i will throw it against the wall!
show me your hands and hearts,
how you have fed the hungry,
welcomed newcomers,
taught children the ABCs of grace.

"listen, knuckleheads!
don't twist my words to suit
your political agendas;
don't promise hope with
your fingers crossed behind your backs!
if you see someone bullying another,
get in their face till they stop;
if someone invites you to party
instead of practicing justice, turn them down.

"enough!
you open your mouth and
an avalanche of bile pours out;
you mock the most vulnerable,
you call the stranger vile names,
you think because you sing
praise verses on Sunday, you
can heap abuse on others, and
that i am okay with that
the rest of the days of the week?!

"enough!
now you are going to listen:
to my heart which is shattered,
to my soul which groans in anguish,
to my whispered tears which
flow freely throughout the day.

"enough is enough!
it is time to make justice for others,
to bring healing into division,
to rebuild crumbling neighborhoods,
to live the good news rather
than putting it on church signs:

those are the gifts you can offer to me,
and to your sisters and brothers
who cry out to you for hope."

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 33

blow the dust off the drums,
put new strings on the banjo,
get the piano tuned, 
hand wooden spoons to little kids
start playing the golden oldies,
while making up new songs for God!

sit down, play scrabble with our God,
forming new words from grace's pile of letters;
words like justice and hope,
words describing stars and sunsets
and God's incredible language of love:
love as sweet as a crisp apple,
love as fresh as an autumn breeze,
love as tart as summer lemonade,
love that's deeper than our fears.

reach out your hands to grasp those
of our sisters and brothers every where
as we join in the dances taught to us
by the Spirit who whispers in our ears.

God knocks over the houses of cards
we build from our foolish thoughts,
simply asking as to hope in the Heart of love,
and to trust as deeply as did are grandparents in faith.
12 we are blessed when we trust in God,

when we see each other as family

God keeps an eye out on all of us,

watching carefully to see if

we love without reservation,

if we offer compassion without conditions

if leaders turn away from power and threats,

offering justice and grace instead

God twirls in circles when we

honor the divine image in others,

when we pick up hope from

the shattered places of life,

when we choose love, not hate;

when we feed those who wander

through both food and fear deserts;

in moments of grief and pain 
beyond imagining, we wait,

and here comes God, in those who run

toward hate, to transform it into love,

who shelter little ones from horror;

we trust, and so we hope;

we hope, and so we offer our hearts

to the One who fills them with grace;

every time we trust, we hope, we come,
God is waiting

every time

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 107

your grace is as close
as every breath we take;
your love clings tighter
to us than any velcro fastener;
and so we tell everyone
of how you reach out
and gather us from
every edge to which we wander.

some arrive at borders,
weary and broken,
hungering for hope
more than any food,
thirsting for just a sip
of peace and freedom.
they cried to God, who
welcomes them with open arms,
setting a place at the table.
they compose songs of joy
to be sung in the evenings,
with stomachs full and
souls overflowing with laughter.

some huddle in shadowed doorways,
sleeping rough in parks,
listening to the well-off
passing them by on the way home
from fancy restaurants and boutique bars.
they had worked hard all their lives,
but made redundant, jobs converted to tech,
they lost everything, especially dignity.
they cried to God, who
brings light into the dimmest corners,
who shatters despair with hope,
who puts them to work sharing grace
with those who think they have enough,
singing of the One who has never used
the word hopeless about anyone.

some became addicted to opioids,
offered without thought by those
seeking to make money off another's pain;
some heard the dreaded words
'the cancer has come back,'
while others lie awake gripped
by the strong arm of depression.
they cried to God, who
offers the love's brokenness
and wraps them in bands of compassion
soaked with the tears of grace,
and they run to share with others
of the One who will shelter them
in welcome and kindness.

some are buffeted by angry words,
tossed about on the seas of bitterness,
set adrift by those filled with hate.
they knew the love of God,
the hopes God has for all,
but the waves of vilification and judgment
tossed them far into the air,
and sank them into rejection's depths.
finally, when it seemed even hope
had abandoned all hope,
they cried to God, who
told the tweeters to be still,
and the trolls to shut their mouths.
in the quiet of God's heart,
they found their true home,
joining their sisters and brothers,
all their mentors and models
in shouts of acclamation.

for there is One who
will turn floods of vitriol
into dusty dry riverbanks,
who will let the hate's wine
become bitter vinegar poured
into the cups of those who
turn their backs on others.

and he turns food deserts
into farmers markets for the indigent,
fixes the broken pipes so grace
flows without ceasing;
he teaches the hungry the best recipes,
and settles them into
neighborhoods of hope,
where they plant community gardens,
to put fresh produce
on each other's porches,
blessing others as deeply
as God has blessed them.

but those who think they are
holier than others are put in their place,
sent into time-out until they relearn
the ABCs of love's language.
and the vulnerable?
they become God's trusted council,
grace's children applauding with joy,
while the despots lose their voices.

if we have any smarts at all,
we will pay more attention
to God's faithful love.

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman