ANOTHER ANNIVERSARY POEM
Writing in the pew, after worship,
Bell Choir practicing, each pew draped
with handmade quilts sewn during the year,
Bart’s directing choir,
an artist himself, jazz pianist,
Karen is on the near end
closest to where I sit. Next Sunday
they will ring for the congregation.
They’re practicing, O Come, O Come,
Emmanuel. God with us in the pew.
It’s my dad’s middle name, never
used by him, but he could sign the E
with a flourish. Karen plays four bells
at the same time—G, A, A flat, B flat.
They’re talking back and forth now.
Bart is laughing. My Notebook’s open, along
with Bonhoeffer’s, Cost of Discipleship.
I’m three weeks living with his work
on the Beatitudes. I’ll never finish.
Blessed are the merciful. [May I die,
right here, Lord?] For they shall receive
mercy. Jesus speaking to his disciples,
Bonhoeffer reminds us. They have
renounced their own dignity. Bonhoeffer's
27 years old writing this. The same age
as Jimi* and Janis when they died.
The year is 1933. Bonhoeffer will be
hanged in 1945, at the age of 39,
the same age as Flannery O’Connor,
Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm.
It will be spring right before Allied
Liberation. The day will be the 9th
of April, sharing the same day
as my mother’s birthday. They’re
ringing again, the bells, Rejoice!
Rejoice! Bell ringers throwing
out the sounds with their arms.
The disciples have wed themselves
to the poor, the stranger, and the wronged.
They wear the clothes of shame
and dishonor. This is the beatitude,
great gift, given to me by my mother,
and I have passed it on to my children
who have wrapped others in mercy
for more than half a century. It’s
too much. I imagine my children
as bell ringers. Cowering before
their courage, I often find myself unable
to praise. I hear them most clearly
in Cannonball Adderley’s great
song, Mercy, released in 1964,
written by Joe Zawinul, Adderley’s
piano player—Austrian, by the way,
who often had to ride hidden
in the car driving in the South
during Jim Crow because everybody
but Ziwinul was black. Mercy, mercy, mercy,
how Adderley introduces the song. Often times
we’re not ready for adversity, he says,
Zawinul playing in the background.
Returning to hear the song on Youtube
over the years, is how I memorized
Adderley’s words, and his speaking
voice, repeating, Mercy, mercy, mercy.
Rhyme in adversity. Its marriage to trouble.
One time at Thanksgiving my sister drops
a bowl of olives, crying, Oh mercy me.
A granddaughter asks her why she said that.
She says, We laugh so we don’t have
to cry, Baby. Mercy. It’s the joke that hides
our treasure. The way Jesus says, Price paid.
The way Karen rings four bells.
*Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin both died in 1970.
Jim Bodeen
24-25 November 2024
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