11th Hour Preacher Party

Preachers, wake! A voice astounds us,
the shout of rampart-guards surrounds us:
"Awake, all RevGal preachers, arise!"
Morning's peace their cry has broken,
their urgent summons clearly spoken:
"The time has come, O RevGals wise!
Rise up, and give us light;
for Sunday is in sight.
Alleluia!
Your words prepare and hasten there,
that you the preaching feast may share.

(With apologies to Phillip Nicolai and J.S. Bach.)

(Also William Blake.)


It's a dark and rainy morning in an undisclosed corner of the U.S. A cat sits next to the laptop on the kitchen table, expectantly. Two large dogs wait sleepily for breakfast. I begin to catch the reassuring whiff of coffee. The rampart-guards here took the form of NPR on my clock-radio. I have either one notion and perhaps an illustration, or too many notions and the same illustration, all for a sermon on either this week's gospel lection of this week's and last week's or this week's and Psalm 34.

Let's just say it's going to take some caffeine and some time and a friendly visit from the (non-ghoulish) Ghost to make a sermon out of what is in the Word file at the moment. I feel grateful that tonight in most of the U.S. we turn back the clocks and gain an hour of sleep.

What lies ahead for you today? I'm hoping to make some sense of it by mid-afternoon, since there are hospital calls to make and a church supper to attend later.

And would you like some half-and-half in your coffee?