Storypath/Cuentocamino: : LETTER TO PASTOR RON MARSHALL ON KIERKEGAARD FROM YAKIMA, 17 NOVEMBER 2021, DAY OF YOUR FUNERAL

LETTER TO PASTOR RON MARSHALL ON KIERKEGAARD

FROM YAKIMA, 17 NOVEMBER 2021, DAY OF YOUR FUNERAL

When his only wish is to die,

not until then, does Christianity begin.¹

--Soren Kierkegaard

Ron,

Inter librar y loan got me these 2.

Coe’s book helps me understand so much,

and have Luther’s sermons—

the 3 earmarked—Thks too

for lifting them up.

Got stuck on Hannay—

will try again.

4 more days before due.

Thks so much for reviews and earlier stuff. jb

-- Email from my I-phone

You never got this! Punched out-thumb-written note,

and two days later, --the electronic letter from Nesvig

beginning after you’ve already gone, leaving with instructions:

Don’t Preach Yourself: Sermon Six—Nothing plausible,

but demonstration. Draw out the love, praise love.

Underlined notes from your Kierkegaard

for the Church, Essays and Sermons, mine.

Per your instructions found by parish secretary,

funeral begins at 3 pm, No other words to be spoken,

This funeral is my last will and testament.

By overcoming our separation with one another,

we’ll be honoring Christ’s mediation on the cross.

Your last words in Chapter Six, my signed copy,

open. Sitting with books, Marshall’s, Kierkegaard’s,

biographies, dissertations and reviews—some,

yours—a week to absorb this life, daily practice.

But your last reviews, mis-sent, wrong address,

arrived! Loyola Marymount University

sent brand un-opened, never-read, books,

and three weeks—between time, underlining,

Since it is faith that makes a work good, rather

than a specific work, a man with faith can perform

good works in any estate, vocation in which God

has ordained and called him—for me validating

notebook, poem, and poet. One line among 100s

I wanted to share with you. I love you for having

Luther and Kierkegaard quotes in your casket

for the taking. I love you, too, for your love

of the footnote, and for being a footnote

in your life. I’ve re-read Jelly for Kierkegaard

in the Jelly Poems believing God let them

come through me, Kierkegaard saying,

for you believed in the dangerous call

of the poet, “...for one who is not in danger

cannot be saved.” In this—my first letter to you,

Dear Ron, in Heaven, let me devote my praise

to the footnote, a high-water mark in your books,

footnotes, your sources say, ‘...are where the author

takes his reader into his confidence...what he really thinks…

two parties can both be reconciled without being wrong…

According to Luther, poetry, music, and humor

are better means to express God’s love of the sinner

in Christ than logic...the task of the religious poet

is to repel disciples while stirring movements of faith…

Yes, you suffer, but you must love your pain,

because it is Christ’s pain…’ I cite your footnotes,

Pastor, not your sources, and give pause:

silence to better hear your great laughter.

Best we go into the cloak room and pray.

No better end—but a better beginning?--

than a return to your funeral instructions:

I’ve witnessed so many horrid pastor’s funerals.

Don’t ruin mine too. Don’t preach yourself,

p. 280, the service is about to begin.

Sitting by fire, I open to Job 14:10:

Cada día de mi servicio obligatorio

(obligatorio over hard),

your service, Ron, delivered

with joy,--skipping to Verse 15

not included, You will call.

I will turn my ear to a proverb,

in Psalm 49. Paul on the body

in 1 Corinthians, ‘sown in dishonor,

debilidad, raised in glory.’ And John,

‘Not to condemn, but through him,

save, God gives the Spirit without limit.’²

Nothing else. No tributes. Nothing.

Sermon Six: Jesus, shield for God’s wrath.

Intercessor, advocate. Access to grace.

Not pleasure, but great common life.

FOONOTE’S RIFFING³

Down here, pushing page margin

boundaries, it’s own borderland,

we’re accustomed to smaller fonts,

fewer type faces, form-checked

over content, gate-keepers

wave us through

like we had passports

It’s a good time, Bob’s

here, inked, blues-fed

basement boy-noise

you ain’t goin, NO

where—Mavis,

Sam Cooke, & Langston

making trouble

for the teacher

who put us in these

God-awful rows

and rows of nothing

but trombones

bass-cleft women

gathered around Jesus

sitting real close

to Coltrane

who felt this

Love Supreme

before it came down

any track, any drum⁴

Jim Bodeen

1Kierkegaard’s Jelly—for Ron Marshall, The Jelly Poems, Jim Bodeen

2“The Father loves the Son and has placed everything in his hands.”

3“I want to make a case for Kierkegaard’s place in the Church today.” Ron Marshall, Kierkegaard for the Church: Sermons and Essays, p. 2. Threshold, gate, way. Camino. Senda. Umbral. Poesía. Poetry and many voices. “An invisible listener, God in Heaven.” S.K. Ibid. p. 47. Many voices. Many ears. “Now more than ever seems it rich to die...Thou wast not born for Death, Immortal Bird.” John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale.

4Footnote’s Riff was inspired while walking the neighborhood during the third mile, and jotted on a piece of paper, following the funeral of Ron Marshall, 17 November 2021, and completed the morning of the 18^th. Elvin Jones is the drummer for Coltrane on A Love Supreme. Poem and footnotes by Jim Bodeen https://storypathcuentocamino.blogspot.com/

POST CARD TO RON MARSHALL, IN HEAVEN,

HAND-CANCELLED AT WIDE HOLLOW POST OFFICE:

FOOTNOTE ON THE FINAL SERMON,

DON’T SAVE YOURSELF—A FOOTNOTE

Turns out I was given erroneous, and extra,

unsupposed unfiltered light, your final sermon

doubled, twice delivered.

Don’t preach yourself, Don’t try to save yourself.

The poem reports before it happens,

trying to keep up with love doubled;

the second, simultaneously pulpit-breathed.

In the moment, Rage, rage, don’t, don’t don’t--