Adviento

Poema

Vienes silenciosamente,
acompañado de la lejana luz de las estrellas.
Con un aire quedo dicen que en invierno.
Llegas silenciosamente,
en medio de la algarabía de todos.
Contigo llega tu paz a una tierra
de guerras.
Con tu adviento nocturnal ahuyenta tu luz
nuestras tinieblas.
Y silenciosamente escuchan nuestras almas el canto
de los cielos.
Nos estremece tu llegada como a Simeón y Ana.
¿Acaso no se estremeció el cielo y el oriente?
En una noche serena conocieron silenciosamente
los cuatro vientos de la tierra tu salvación.

Perdido

Poema
I’m breathing, but it doesn’t mean a thing.
I’m walking, moving my feet, but where?
My eyes look at the light beyond the mountains.
Do they see a sunset or a sunrise?
Looming darkness or glorious morning?
What do these eyes of mine see?
They see me drowning in my own dark sea.
cspellot 2005

Homily for the 2nd Sunday of Advent

Homilía predicada el domingo, 4 de diciembre de 2005
Today is the 2^nd Sunday in Advent. In a few short weeks from today, it’ll be Christmas. People will strip their Christmas trees, or what’s left of them, pull them out to the sidewalk and take down the lights and decorations from around the house. These will be put in boxes and will go to storage until it is Friday after Thanksgiving Day next year when once again, the trees will be put up, the lights will be lit and decorations will abound everywhere. Of course, all of this is preceded by Halloween, preparations for which start say around mid-September!

When October 31^st dies, the ghosts and ghouls will be immediately left behind and we will shift gears towards “turkey season”. Once the turkey is stripped of its belongings, it’s time to go full throttle to the next stop before the end of the year, Christmas.

The last quarter of our calendar year is a very much commercialized span of time, where our culture has made it its agenda to teach us and, moreover, our children that he who gets the most candy wins; he who eats the most turkey wins; he who receives the most toys is the conqueror. If you really want to see right through this all you can honestly say is that he who gets the most candy will visit the dentist the soonest; he who eats the most turkey will probably have indigestion not to mention some extra pounds; and he who receives the most toys will give mom and dad a nagging headache because a week or two after Christmas there are no more cool toys around to play with.

In a nutshell, this is what I call the commercial cycle we are all used to and in which we willingly participate year after year. And while there is much to criticize about it, especially its artificiality, we have it because it follows in principle with life.

Our lives and everything around us are cyclical. A day is nothing but a 24 hour cycle. We see the sunrise and then the sunset everyday in that span of time. A week is 7 day cycle. A year is a 12 month cycle. In it, the four cyclical seasons of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter occur faithfully one after the other. Our own lives are each one of them a cycle that, in figuratively language, can take after the seasons of the year. We all have our Spring in birth and youth, we all have our Summer in adulthood, we all have our Fall in old age and then, using the words of Saint Paul, we sleep in Winter. Our lives on earth are a one time cycle and I want to make a point of that. The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment (Heb 9:27).” When we get to Winter, when we die, there is not another Spring, not until Christ raises us up from the dead before the last judgment. The life cycle we Christians believe in is not reincarnation where you get a few chances to live here on earth before you are sucked up into Brahma and are no more having reached your highest goal of non-existence. That is what Hinduism teaches and it is a false teaching.

In like manner, the life of the Universal church is modeled after a cyclical pattern. For us, the church year has just begun. The season of Advent marks that beginning. Last Sunday we lit the candle of hope marking the beginning of the new Christian year. Today, we have just lit the candle of peace for the second Sunday in Advent. The church year is a progressive cycle.

Just as there are cycles of a natural or commercial nature, there is also a cycle of a spiritual nature. This cycle moves heavenward, towards God, and one of its interesting features is that, in many respects, it is contrary to the daily cycles we live in and take for granted. Out there, popular culture tells us that Christmas ends right after December 25^th, but we know enough about Christmas to know that December 25^th is only the beginning of Christmas.

But there is something about cycles I also want to share with you. Cycles are repetitive motions. They are repetitive in two ways. A cycle can be involuntary like each year that passes by without you or I being able to do anything about it. And cycles can be voluntary actions as well. Every birthday and anniversary we celebrate, we do them because we want to. We do not need to celebrate them, but we do because they mark meaningful moments in our lives. With every year that goes by our intention to celebrate them increases because their meaning for us increases also. Voluntary cycles are therefore the most meaningful. The Christian Church has demonstrated it for over 2,000 years, but we will do well to recognize that we haven’t done this by our own strength but by the very and unmerited grace of God.

Cycles are repetitive in essence. There are many good things about repetition. It is both good for our minds as when we read something twice to understand it better, and for our bodies as when we exercise, but repetition is by far most profitable for our soul. The spiritual disciplines of prayer, fasting and meditation on the Word of God plus participation in the sacraments have no parallel for the nourishment of the soul of the Christian. The danger lies when repetition has made us lose sight of the reason why we do things over and over again here at church Sunday after Sunday, season after season or at home day in and day out. Repetition for the sake of repetition will easily lead us to dullness and boredom, and will drive us in search for some other thing that will keep our short attention spans hooked until we lose sight of that one thing also and move on to another one repeating a meaningless cycle, but a cycle nonetheless.

So here we find ourselves in another season of Advent knowing what we knew last year; that we must prepare ourselves for the Advent of our Lord on Christmas Day. But how do you go about this issue called preparation, getting ready, having a spirit of expectation to receive Christ the Lord? It is one thing to know we must get ready and it is another altogether to be ready. What makes us ready to receive the Christ on Christmas? What is it that will take us to the manger along with the shepherds and the angels, the bull, the goat and the sheep to witness the most penetrating act of God into the messy affairs of humankind? More importantly, do we want to go there? Are we eager to go there?

To prepare is an action verb. At least, that is what John the Baptizer shows us in the gospel for this morning. In the fourth verse of chapter 1 of the Gospel according to Saint Mark we read that “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” John the baptizer had been given a task no different than any other prophet before him, to proclaim the coming of the Christ. In order for the hearers to be ready for this coming, they had to repent of their sins through the waters of baptism. In the biblical language used by Isaiah the prophet, to prepare the way of the Lord is to proclaim the way of the Lord, his forgiveness and salvation, and to proclaim his salvation is in turn to prepare ourselves for his coming.

Preparation means receiving the message, making it your own and being obedient to the call to share that message so that others in turn can get ready to receive the Savior, who would be called Immanuel, God with us.

John the baptizer proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit." John is saying, “I am just a messenger. Don’t look at me for there is no salvation in me; rather look to him about whom I am speaking for he is at hand.”

If we picture the scene of John’s proclamation in the wilderness we would not see a tele-evangelist in his Dolce & Gabana suit, he wouldn’t be all trimmed down with the latest haircut and Tommy Hilfiger shoes. In the wilderness there is little use for Hugo Boss or Calvin Klein. What we would see out there in the wilderness is nothing but a freak show. There we have a man clothed in camel skin with a belt around his waist. We are told he ate grasshoppers and wild honey. I wonder why we are told these seemingly unnecessary details. Who after all wants to know that someone else’s diet is grasshoppers? I can only guess that it is fitting to dress like that and have that diet if you live in the desert. In other words, John the baptizer was a crazy-looking man, at least by our standards. Maybe we could handle a diet of grasshoppers and wild honey alright, especially if there is nothing else out there in the wilderness, but don’t clothe me in “no” camel suit. Or maybe we can handle the camel outfit just fine, but grasshoppers, “No thanks!” Perhaps in the desert there might not be a better outfit than being clothed in camel skin.

Yet, there is something more about this picture of a man who thinks little of his looks. Do you remember when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. shared with his audience at the Lincoln Memorial about dreaming of a day when his children would be judge not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character? Do you remember having heard that memorable speech? Well, John the baptizer brings us a similar situation where he is actually telling us judge not the messenger but the content of his message. It is, as it has always been, very easy to shoot the messenger. We do not see a John being shy about the job he was given to do. We do not see him concerned about his not being a la mode. He was not shy either about the gospel just as none of the prophets before him were shy about the words they were given to proclaim to Israel; words that to some gained them their death.

John the baptizer is both an indictment and an invitation. An indictment against a plastic and superficial approach to the Gospel, against a watering down of the Cross of Christ and a compromising of the truth that is found only in Him. But also an invitation to engage the world with the most potent message it has ever heard, the same Good News of Jesus Christ and him crucified. A message that will get hold of the worst of sinners, shake him up and transform him to the glory of God.

Here is revealed the cyclical nature of the Gospel of Christ—the Faith once delivered to the Saints continues to be the Faith delivered by Saints. It is an ongoing, cyclical activity where Christian generation after Christian generation proclaims the message of the Gospel of Christ and in doing so gets ready to meet its Savior who has promised He will come again for us to dwell with him. The proclamation of the coming of Christ in Advent is our getting ready to receive our Lord at Christmas. We, each and every one of us, are a John the baptizer, a proclaimer of the coming of the Lord. You and I are the present Christian generation of voices crying in the wilderness, and make no mistake it is a wilderness out there, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight!”

We are in the midst of that wilderness in the same way John the baptizer was in the midst of it. We have no greater or lesser position than he had. We have no greater or lesser message than he had, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” We have the only message that will make us all in here and out there fit for the kingdom of God, fit to meet the Savior Jesus Christ and we find ourselves today in that season of our liturgical year where we meditate, we ponder about the significance of the birth of Christ, we have a sense of great expectation, but we are not passive. We cannot be passive while we have an awareness of where Advent is leading us. We cannot be passive with a world that got it all wrong; a world that says Christmas ends on the 25^th when actually the contrary happens. Preparation is an action word.

Advent signals the movement of the throne of God towards the perishable throne of man in order that man does not perish. To quote the words of Father Christmas when he was able to come back into Narnia in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, “I’ve come at last,” said he. “She has kept me out for a long time, but I have got in at last. ASLAN IS ON THE MOVE. The Witch’s magic is weakening.” “ASLAN IS ON THE MOVE.” Don’t these words ring any bells? “After me comes he who is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie.” There is no difference between Father Christmas’ proclamation and John the baptizer’s proclamation. The substance of their message does not revolve around them but about the One who is mightier, more important than they are; the One who is actually the reason for the proclamation they give.

“ASLAN IS ON THE MOVE” is perhaps the most significant phrase you will come to hear during this holiday season and fittingly so. In a few days, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe will premier in theaters everywhere. The advertising for the movie has been incredible. My own children have a poster of the movie in their bedroom! But Aslan is on the move for a more important reason than the movie. Today it seems as if our world is caught up in an eternal winter of catastrophes, wars, diseases and injustices. When will it be Spring again just like in Narnia? When will the demonic spell over our world come to an end? My brothers and sisters, it is Advent and “ASLAN IS ON THE MOVE!” On the move to save a world that in the words of the prophet Jonah, “[does] not know [its] right hand from [its] left.” If he is on the move, what else is expected of us but to be also on the move? Passivity is not an action word.

God in his mercy is giving us another Advent, another chance to meet our Savior and as well proclaim to the world that God’s kingdom is at hand. “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.”

In the short term, Advent points us to the first coming of our Lord. At the same time, it makes us set our eyes on our Lord’s second coming in glory. The Christian Church has been setting its eyes on the coming of our Lord for a long time. The Christian Church has been preaching the Second Advent for quite a long time. Who is to say that 2,000 years of preaching that Christ is coming is not a long time? By any stretch of the imagination, here on the realm of time and space no one can say that Christians have been preaching this same message just a little while. But that is really a non issue with God. What is a short time or a long time for God?

The apostle Peter in his letter to the Christian Church tells us that for God temporal considerations regarding the plan of salvation are not the main concern. In the epistle reading, Saint Peter advises us as follows, “Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.” This time reference is not to be taken literally as if one calendar day equals one thousand calendar days for God. That is not what Saint Peter wants us to understand here. He is just telling us that God resides in eternity, outside time. Time has never and will never affect its creator. God is the eternal I Am. He is I Am in the past; he is I Am in the present and will be I Am in the future. Only he will determine when long enough is long enough. If we understand that God’s residence is in eternity, then a couple millennia cannot be all that long.

For us mortals, on the other hand, time really does take a toll on us. It is merciless. On a day to day basis, time’s effect on us is barely noticeable. Put a span of ten, twenty or thirty years in the mix and time will put wrinkles in our faces and white hair on our heads or no hair at all. When we couple that with the fact that we are not patient by nature it’s understandable we want our Lord to come already and put an end to all the madness of the world; to take us home with him. Sounds like a great formula for escapism, doesn’t it?

We need things done and done quickly. There’s too much to do and no time to lose. But we falter, we become impatient. We ask, “Lord, when is this all going to end? When will you finally come? Lord, we’re waiting! We’ve been waiting for a long time; your Church has been waiting for a long time. So will you please come!”

If there was an apostle that would have all the characteristics of impatience, Saint Peter was it. Remember when the mob and the soldiers came to arrest Jesus at the Garden of Gethsemane? Peter was ready with a sword to free the Lord from his oppressors. Today, I can see Saint Peter at the moment when he writes his epistle looking back and understanding that God’s ways are not our ways and his timetable supersedes ours. He writes to us, “The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.”

Is there any difference between John the baptizer’s preaching in the wilderness and Saint Peter’s exhortation here? The answer is no, there isn’t. Both John and Peter are calling us to repentance, another action word, calling us to prepare the way of the Lord and make his paths straight. It is repentance and only repentance that has the power to bring us closer to God and him to us. That is why Advent is an invitation to proclaim the Gospel of salvation in Jesus Christ, because time does not bring people to God; repentance and forgiveness do. There is exactly where we meet our God.

Here’s a question: Do you know what a manger is? A manger is an open box where hay is put for livestock to feed. Here’s another question: Do you see that altar up there? It might not resemble a manger, but that table is the place where true spiritual food and true spiritual drink is place for us to feed. Do you see where Advent is leading us? It is certainly leading us to the memory of the first manger in Bethlehem, but there is more than a memory here. Here at this table—a type of manger—in the bread and the wine is the reality of God’s grace for you and me. I invite you to come closer to God for he is already closer to us.

I will leave you with these words from Saint Peter. I think it is important that I leave you with them, “Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish; and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.” The patience of our Lord as salvation… what a beautiful thing to hear.

Let us pray,

Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

¡Nubes!

Cuento
En un día de verano, tres hermanos fueron al parque con su Papá. Pocas cosas son tan divertidas como ir al parque en un día de verano.

Allí hicieron de todo. Corrieron, brincaron, cavaron hoyos en la arena, los llenaron con agua, se columpiaron, bajaron por las chorreras, cruzaron las barras e hicieron castillos de arena.

Después de un buen rato en el parque, estaban todo sudados ya que los días de verano suelen ser muy calurosos.

De repente, escucharon a Papá decir desde lejos, “¡Agua, chicos!”

Así que los tres hermanos corrieron hacia él para tomar agua. ¡Qué refrescante es tomar agua cuando hace calor!

Pero mientras tomaban agua, notaron algo... ¡No habían nubes en el cielo!

“Papá, ¿dónde están las nubes?”, ellos preguntaron. Pero Papá, que no se había dado cuenta de que no habían nubes en el cielo, se encogió de hombros y les dijo que no sabía.

“Quizás están entrenidas jugando en algún parque en el cielo y por éso no las vemos”, les dijo. “¡Qué les parece si las llamamos!”, sugirió Papá.

Así que todos comenzaron a llamar a las nubes cada vez más alto. “!Nubes!” “¡Nuuubes!” “¡NUUUUUUBEEES!”

Todos llamaron... y llamaron... y llamaron a las nubes, pero las nubes no oyeron.

Ni modo. Después de todo estaban en el parque, así que luego de tomar agua dijeron, “¡Vámonos a jugar!”

Se divirtieron muchísimo por otro buen rato y entonces se fueron a casa sin tan siquiera una nube en el cielo. En realidad, el cielo se veía muy bonito sin ellas.

Cuando llegaron a casa, se bañaron y se sentaron a la mesa para cenar. Mamá había cocinado una deliciosa cena para todos. Dieron gracias y a comer. ¡Riiiico!

Todos estaban bastante ocupados comiendo su deliciosa cena cuando de pronto Papá miró hacia el cielo y notó algo.

“Chicos, parece que las nubes nos escucharon al fin y al cabo. Miren al cielo”, les dijo.

¡Qué sorpresa! “¡Nos escucharon, Papá, las nubes nos escucharon!”, dijeron los tres hermanos mirando al cielo muy emocionados.

Allí estaban todas las nubes moviéndose hacia ellos y sonriéndoles. El cielo se veía aún más bonito con ellas en el atardecer de un caluroso día de verano.

Adiós, Rosa

Un poema para Rosa Parks.

Aquí estoy, Rosa.
Mirándote de lejos asombrado,
la muerte llevándote en sus brazos.
Me pregunto si yo hubiese hecho lo mismo:
Alzar mi alma como un estandarte al viento,
libre, habiéndome sentado.
Resistiendo los cómodos ejércitos del amo
como un torbellino por Montgomery agitado.
Creo que te olvidaremos, Rosa,
como tu mente se olvidó del aliento ensangrentado
de nuestros hermanos negros en el ocaso de tu vida.
Creo que este adiós, como la muerte,
ha cimentado el tácito odio de nuestros hermanos blancos.
Quizá mi vista se ha nublado queriendo
hacer de tu historia una silueta en el tiempo o
¿te habrás desvanecido en los brazos del Amado?
Adiós, Rosa.
Un adiós fuerte y definitivo te brindo.
Pongo en tu pecho una rosa marchitada,
muerta pero con espinas que siempre han anunciado
que la verdadera libertad es sangre, que la sangre es vida
y que la vida es eterna.

Weapons of Mass Paranoia

A poem

A vortex of hyper power
ran through their heads,
inebriating as it has always been.
They called the north south
and the night day.
The rest of us simply wrote them
a blank check.
They call hindsight 20/20,
but it’s only where hindsight exists.
Their eyes have never gone blind,
neither have their souls though they are dark.
And we just listened to them
and with our whole heart gave them
God’s blessing,
and with it we gave them our children
—true victims of mass destruction.
True children
who’ve idealized the hype
served to them by our own hands.
They are first-hand witnesses of the destruction,
we are the first-hand victims of
the Weapons of Mass Paranoia.

Alondra del Mar

Cuento escrito en la ocasión del nacimiento de Alondra del Mar en el año 2001.

En el atardecer de ayer el mar mecía al sol entre sus olas. Quería dormirlo cantándole al oído. El mar, que sabe cantar muy bien, pensó que el sol cerraría sus ojos tan rápido como siempre, pero ayer el sol estaba tan despierto que el mar comenzó a pensar que un más suave cantar de sus arrullos cerrarían por completo los ojos de su dorado niño. Así que cantó más suave, tanto así que apenas podía oírselo. Con ese cantar, las aves se durmieron, los peces se durmieron y las nubes fueron arropando poco a poco la claridad.

Y sí, el mar, que sabe cantar muy bien, logró que el sol comenzara a parpadear muy lentamente. Así estuvieron ambos, el mar y el sol, por largo rato, el mar cantándole al oído, el sol parpadeando lentamente.
El mar, que siempre ha sido muy paciente, decidió entonces cambiarle el rumbo a sus arrullos y no le estuvo mal consultar con su amigo el viento. Se unieron así mar y viento en tan hermosa armonía que lograron que la tenue luz del sol brillara más en la luna que en el cielo. En ese momento, el mar supo que dentro de muy poco entregaría su canto a las estrellas, pero el viento, que nunca ha sido tan paciente como el mar, pensó en cómo acelerar las cosas, pues él también comenzaba a sentirse soñoliento. Le dijo al mar: “Llamaré a alguien que enaltezca nuestra armonía con su canto y de una vez haga al sol descansar”.

Fue así como el viento despertó de entre las aves a una de melodioso cantar y le dijo: “Vuela alto, muy alto y el sol mejor te escuchará”. El viento, el mar y la alondra juntos cantaron para el sol. Así ayer, en poco tiempo se durmió el sol, se durmió el mar y también se durmió el viento gracias a la melodía de la Alondra del Mar.
cspellot

Gris

El cielo sigue siendo azul...
pero hoy se ve gris.
Las mismas caras caminan las calles
llenas de vacío.
La brisa otoñal es constantemente entrecortada
y las aves buscan en vano su principio sin fin.
Todos callan anhelando la lluvia
en medio de esta sequía.
O quizás callan cabizbajos
esperando la resurrección.
Todos callan queriendo escuchar
lo que buscan y callan sin hallar.
Ese ensordecedor silencio oprime sus almas
que saben que sigue siendo azul el cielo
pero sólo ven gris.

Caricia

A Lorenzo Julián

Hoy soñé una caricia sentada en mi falda.
Me sonreía sin palabras.
Sólo una pequeña caricia
apenas nacida, un regalo en alas.
Llenó mi mundo de alegría
poniendo sus manos en mi faz
que al ser acariciada viajaba entre las nubes.
Una pequeña caricia...
¿Habrá sido el cielo?
o, ¿se habrá desprendido de mi alma?
Hizo de mi falda su nido
y de mi luz su calor.
¿Habrá sido un sueño?
o, ¿se habrá desprendido del cielo?
Hice de sus miradas un río
y de sus besos un sol.

Left Behind

I’ve been left behind
by the sugar canes and plátanos
of my patria.
They’ve moved on
to where they’ve always been.
I’ve been left behind by the warm
waters of the Caribe.
They've moved on
to where they've always been.
I’ve moved on to the cold waters of the West.
A West that keeps moving on
never leaving me behind.
A West of burning mountains,
of trembling lands.
A West full of appearances and deserts,
without a soul.
I’ve been left behind by my very own soul,
a stranger to myself,
to all.
And so I trudge Westward with my new empty home
which will never be my home.
Never leaving her behind
being left behind by my own soul.

The sky is burning

I don’t have a poem to write
All I have is a pen in my hand
Soul in my eyes

I don’t have a song to sing
The world has silenced me
Long has it been… words have left me

I don’t have a hand to strike
Been stricken down by stronger hands
If only I’d kept them by my side

I don’t have a smile to light
‘Cause the sky is burning
All I have is you, Love,
To kiss my forehead
And my soul good night

Lluvia de Lares

En el Grito de Lares y en la muerte de Filiberto Ojeda Ríos

Está lloviendo… están gritando.
Nuestras almas... y por eso nadie escucha.
Un diluvio de mentiras ha borrado
nuestra tierra del planeta.
Y todavía preguntamos,
“¿Cuándo llegará la lluvia, Noé?
¿Mañana? ¿El año entrante?
¿Cuándo llegará la lluvia, Noé?”

Somos un pueblo de preguntas
nunca contestadas.
En busca de respuestas allende,
somos la gran pregunta siempre anegada.
Otros nos han querido contestar,
pero seguimos siendo la gran pregunta.

Africa

Came home from watching The Constant Gardener and wrote this poem.

My veins are bleeding you
as always they have done.
Always walked half dead
as if dragging chains on my feet,
on my hands,
on my neck.
Africa…disposable land
Africa…disposable me
My eyes are crying you.
The tears only your soul see.
When haven’t you seen them?
Don’t know if your soul is dragging my chains
or my chains, your soul.

Fallujah, USA

Poem
She came with all her might.
Who could have stopped her?
Mortal yet powerful and invincible,
most fled before her.
Only most.
A few defied her, shaking their fists
to her face and paid a dearly price.
She was beautiful yet cold…
Cold yet furious…
Furious yet calmed…
Calmed yet violent…
Violent and cold.
Who could have stopped her?
She didn’t have a soul
and in her wrath we were all baptized.
Our loved ones lost and grieved.
Our houses drowned.
Our souls hungry.
Our tears gone with the wind.
(We will see the sun again
and like the flowers bloom.)
Who could have stopped her?
She came…
She saw…
She destroyed…
and never looked back
here in Fallujah, USA.

Fallujah, EUA
Poema

Ella vino con toda su fuerza.
¿Quién hubiese podido detenerla?
Mortal mas poderosa e invencible,
la mayoría huyó delante de ella.
Sólo la mayoría.
Unos pocos la desafiaron,
sacudiendo sus puños frente a ella
y pagaron muy caro.
Ella era hermosa mas fría...
Fría mas furiosa...
Furiosa mas calmada...
Calmada mas violenta...
Violenta y fría.
¿Quién hubiese podido detenerla?
No tenía alma
y en su ira fuimos todos bautizados.
Nuestros seres amados perdidos y llorados.
Nuestras casas anegadas.
Nuestras almas hambrientas.
Nuestras lágrimas se las llevó el viento.
(Volveremos a ver al sol nuevamente
y como las flores floreceremos.)
¿Quién hubiese podido detenerla?
Ella vino...
Ella vio...
Ella destruyó...
y jamás miró atrás
aquí en Fallujah, EUA.

Two butterflies

Poem/poema
Look at ‘em go, Lord.
Two butterflies.
Look at ‘em.
I wonder where they’re going.
I wonder if they know.
They’re just bumbling
or maybe dancing, I wonder.
The wind must be their music then.
And they must live to dance.
Nobody’s listening
and hardly anyone’s watching.
“Who cares?” I say…
They found each other.

Dos mariposas

Poema/poem
Míralas ir, Señor.
Dos mariposas.
Míralas.
Me pregunto adónde van.
Me pregunto si lo saben.
Van a tropezones
o quizás bailan, me pregunto.
El viento su música es entonces.
Y para bailar viven.
Nadie está escuchando
y apenas está mirando alguien.
“¿Qué importa?” digo yo...
Se encontraron mutuamente.

Allegiance to Christ

Homilía predicada el 6to Domingo después de Pentecostés Año A
Homily preached on the 6th Sunday after Pentecost Year A

Matthew 10:34-42

Today’s Gospel begins where last Sunday’s Gospel left us; it continues the same narrative of Matthew chapter 10. The final words in our Gospel lesson for last week were,

“32So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, 33but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven.”

These words were spoken of those to whom Christ’s disciples were being sent; those who would hear that “the kingdom of heaven is at hand”. This is a very clear-cut statement; there is no ambiguity about what it means—he who receives the gospel of Christ is accepted by our Father in heaven, but he who does not receive it, is not. We are either in or out, on one side of the divide or the other, but we cannot be in both places at the same time. This is the type of allegiance Christ demands from us. He requires us to make a distinctive decision concerning him; namely, to take up our cross and follow him. Of course, it would be naïve on our part to think that we on our own fallen nature would be capable to make such a decision. In this process of taking up our cross and following him, none of us can overlook the fact that the Holy Spirit is actually helping us to take our cross and follow Christ. In God the Holy Spirit, we do not lack the encouragement nor the tools to remain steadfast in our Christian walk, however difficult we might come to think it is. Last week, Christ told his messengers, his disciples,

“29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. 30But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. 31Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”

Our Christian walk is not a walk in the park. It never has been and it never will, but that is beside the point. I am pretty sure that is no news to anyone of us. All of us who have shared the Gospel of Christ with somebody else have been rejected at one point or another. Rest assured that they have not rejected us; they have rejected our Lord Jesus Christ.

But in today’s Gospel lesson we are made aware of a reality that is inherent in the proclamation of the Gospel, and it is a darker aspect of the Gospel. Not that there is anything obscure about the Gospel of Christ itself; nothing on this whole earth could be simpler to grasp than the message of the cross of Jesus. In fact, it is actually this simplicity of the Gospel what makes many stumble. Many cannot deal with the plain truth and reality that we are fallen and we cannot stand up unless helped by God.

So what are we to make when confronted with words like,

34"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Well, isn’t this world already full conflict and strife as it is? Why would the message of the reconciliation of man to God and God to man bring about more conflict than peace? Why would the very Christ who came to save us tell us something as disheartening as that? As Christ’s messengers, it doesn’t make our work any easier, does it?

The whole of Matthew, chapter 10, is about people being commissioned by Christ to proclaim the path to salvation. It is about people called of God to tell it on the mountains tops, on the valleys and everywhere. Jesus is preparing by telling us what to expect when we proclaim the Gospel. The Gospel of Christ shatters with full force the preconceived notions of our spiritual condition. The Gospel of Christ claims to be, to the absolute exclusion of any other so called alternatives to God, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It is not easy to be told the plain, cold truth, particularly when it concerns the so-called private matters of the spirit. Believe me, brothers and sisters, there is nothing private about “all have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God.” There is nothing private about “the wages of sin is death.” That is precisely why what we have been given to proclaim raises opposition, often as we do know, to the point of death. The Gospel of Christ bluntly antagonizes the secular status quo, where man has enthroned himself as king. The Gospel is an intrusion, an inconvenience to our individualistic and selfish society, where we and our neighbor are fond of saying “I’m ok, you’re ok and we’ll both go to heaven in the end because all roads lead to heaven.” Well, no! (1)Not all roads lead to heaven. (2)Without Christ, neither of us is ok and (3)without Christ we’ll certainly see each other, but I can assure you that it won’t be in heaven. This is the reason Christ tells us, “You’ve been warned.” But we’ll do well to remember that being warned is very different from being on your own. Our case is always the former, not the latter. Christ’s warning to us only precedes a message that no earthly power, however fierce or intimidating, is able to overcome. Isaiah chapter 2, which was our first lesson this morning, gives us this encouragement,

12For the LORD of hosts has a day against all that is proud and lofty, against all that is lifted up--and it shall be brought low; 13against all the cedars of Lebanon, lofty and lifted up; and against all the oaks of Bashan; 14against all the lofty mountains, and against all the uplifted hills; 15against every high tower, and against every fortified wall; 16against all the ships of Tarshish, and against all the beautiful craft. 17And the haughtiness of man shall be humbled, and the lofty pride of men shall be brought low, and the LORD alone will be exalted in that day.

The Gospel of Christ entails persecution, but persecution will have its end one day. Matthew says that Christ has come not to bring peace but a sword and presses on to say something just as disturbing if not even more. He says that Christ has come “to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. 36And a person's enemies will be those of his own household.”

Let me emphasize very clearly that Christ has not called any of his children to be in enmity with anybody. It is an irony of the Gospel of Christ that while reconciling men and women to God, it also alienates those who have been brought closer to the Father from those who are still afar creating a wide divide between the new creatures and the old ones. The cross of Christ brings us closer to God, but the cross of Christ also takes us far away from friends and sometimes, what is even more painful, from family.

And here, I think it is appropriate to call to our attention the following. Count yourself blessed if your family is here today with you worshipping God. That is the Lord’s doing and is a powerful witness to the Gospel of reconciliation which is in Christ Jesus. It is a powerful witness to the grace of God which is in Christ Jesus. Count yourself blessed if your friends are here today worshipping God with you because that is also the Lord’s doing. Christ is the God of reconciliation. There is much joy to be had when members of our family come to the Lord’s house together as one. And believe it or not, it is a great sign to unbelievers when they see or find out that whole families come to church to worship and honor God.

Now, there might be someone in your family that would not come anywhere near a church. Perhaps, we all have that relative who thinks he’s better off without Christ and simply dismisses us with a “whatever works for you.” Rather than a full blown persecution, this is the enmity Christ speaks of in our Gospel for today; the type of enmity that hurts the most because it involves a loved one, a husband or wife or child or a father or mother, a brother or a sister who does not share our faith. We continue to love them because they’re family. We keep praying for them because our God answers the prayers of His people. In this circumstance, the fact that we are enemies within the same household is something beyond our control, but not God’s. It is important to know that God is in control as he has always been even when our household might be spiritually divided.

It is important to underscore one thing Matthew recorded in his Gospel for us to bear in mind. In matters of human relationships, there is seldom a stronger loyalty than that paid to family. It shouldn’t be any different. A man will defend his family like nothing else. A mother will defend her children like no one else on earth. A good son or daughter will defend their parents’ honor at the speed of light. Family is family and blood is thicker than water. It is a difficult matter to quantify our love for our loved ones. It is preposterous to ask a parent, “On a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you love your children?” (Now, it’s understandable that a parent might say on a given day, “Son, today you are coming in at three!”) And it certainly sounds preposterous when we hear Christ saying,

37Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. 38And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. 39Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

Why is it that our allegiance to Christ is put in such unmistakable terms? Is Christ competing for our loyalties here? Simply put, no, he is not. The call of Christ to our lives requires a non-negotiable cost. Christ does not do his children any favors by sugar coating what it means to take up our cross and follow him. If I have read my Bible correctly, Christ never plays down his call on the lives of the called. Christ does not ask us to abandon our families or responsibilities; he’s the one who gave them to us in the first place, but in the words of the late German theologian Dietrich Bonhoffer,

“When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”

It is costly to follow him; it is costly to take up our cross. It is costly to be faithful to Christ like no one else, including our families. The call of Christ to come and follow, to become a disciple, is the highest call men and women will ever receive on earth. Every other call—marriage, children, family, friends, work, etc.—follows suit when we have obeyed the highest calling. Christ does not come into our lives to compete for our faithfulness; he comes to put things in order where there was none. He comes and sets our priorities straight. After all, it is in him

15from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named,

as Paul tells the Ephesians.

In the cross of Christ, all of us, find our true calling and to find Christ is to find eternal life. Bonhoeffer describes the call to discipleship, this call to allegiance to Christ, in terms of cheap grace and costly grace. Listen to what he says,

“Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. […]
“Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession, cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”
“[Costly] grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “you were bought at a price,” [Scripture says] and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God. […]
Costly grace confronts us as a gracious call to follow Jesus, it comes as a word of forgiveness to the broken spirit and the contrite heart. Grace is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

As we prepare to continue the worship of God this morning and prepare ourselves to come to the Lord’s Table, let us remember that here, when we come up, his grace abounds to help us to follow him. We are partakers of the riches of God in Jesus Christ who died, rose and will come again for us. If we have heeded his call and love him, there is no question it is because he loved us first. Amen.

a body broken

Poema/Poem

a body broken hung on a cross
most sneered at him thinking him dead
and dead he was
a body broken nailed to a cross
some gazed at him thinking him dead
and dead he was
a body broken lifted up
few cried for him thinking him dead
and dead he was
a body broken
broken for most
broken for some
broken for few
a body broken
broken for all
cspellot

Papá y el parque

Cuento infantil. A mi padre.

A papá le encanta ir al parque.

Le encanta tanto que somos su mejor excusa para él ir.
“¿Quién quiere ir al parque hoy?” pregunta Papá.
“¡¡¡¡Yooooo!!!!” decimos todos a voces.

Inmediatamente, nos preparamos para irnos.
“¡Están listos, chicos!” pregunta Papá.
“¡¡¡¡Sí!!!!

En el parque, todo es diversión... Bueno, casi todo.
Algunos niños no comparten sus juguetes. “¡Oye, ése es mi camión!”

A Pablo le gusta todo tipo de chorreras. En espiral, onduladas, verticales. Él las baja. Él las sube. En realidad, no le importa.

A mí me fascinan las barras. A veces no puedo llegar al final y me caigo. “¿Estás bien?” me pregunta Papá. “Sí”, le contesto preparándome para intentarlo otra vez.

Mauro todavía es muy pequeño, así que Papá lo mece en el columpio para bebés.

Yo creo que la diversión favorita de Papá es el columpio. Él se mece bien alto cuando tiene la oportunidad.

También le fascina saltar muy alto del columpio. Mauro lo mira muy curioso.

A veces se mecen los dos juntos.

Cuando llega el momento de hacer castillos de arena, nadie toma el trabajo más en serio que Papá.

Él comienza a construir las murallas y las torres, y de repente hay una multitud de niños rodeándonos.

“Está haciendo un castillo de arena”, se dicen unos a otros.
Yo les digo, “Sí, mi Papá está haciendo un castillo de arena bien grande.”

Cuando termina nos pregunta “¿Qué les parece, chicos?”
“Nos gusta mucho, Papá. ¡Gracias!” decimos.

A veces pienso que Papá es un niño como yo, sólo que más grande. Papá y el parque. ¡Qué combinación! No me molesta para nada que nos use de excusa para venir aquí.

“Muy bien, chicos, ¿están listos para irnos a casa?” pregunta Papá anticipando nuestra respuesta.
“¡¡¡¡Nooooo!!!!

Papa and the playground

Children's story. To my father.

Papa loves going to the playground.

He loves it so much that we’re his best excuse for him to go.
“Who wants to go the playground today?” asks Papa.
“Meeeee!!!!” we say at once.

Immediately, we get ready.
“Are you ready, guys!” asks Papa.
“Yeahhhhh!!!!”

At the park, everything is fun... Well, almost everything.
Some kids won’t share their toys. “Hey, that’s my truck!”

Pablo loves all sorts of slides. Spiral slides, waving slides, vertical slides. He goes down the slides. He goes up the slides. It really doesn’t matter to him.

I love the monkey bars. Sometimes I can’t make it to the end and I fall. “Are you o.k.?” asks Papa. “Yes,” I answer getting ready for my next round.

Mauro is still too little so Papa pushes him on the baby swing.

I think Papa’s favorite is the swing. He swings very high when he gets a chance.

He also loves to take off very high from the swing. Mauro looks at him very curious.

Sometimes they both swing together.

When the time to build sandcastles comes, no one takes the job more seriously than Papa.

He starts building the walls and the towers, and all of a sudden there’s a bunch of other kids around us.

“He’s building a sandcastle,” they tell each other.
I say, “Yes, my Papa is building a huge sandcastle.”

When he’s done, he asks us, “What do you think, kids?”
“We like it a lot, Papa. Thanks!” we say.

Sometimes I think Papa is a kid like me, only bigger. Papa and the playground. What a match! I don’t mind his using us as an excuse to come here at all.

“Alright, guys, are you ready to go home?” he asks already knowing our answer.
“Nooooo!!!!”

CSPellot2003

¡Muere!

Lamento por una Patria clavada en el corazón.

Que se muera tu aire, caliente y húmedo,
asfixiado por el frío.
Que se muera tu cielo azul de cielo
y se convierta en noche azul marina.
Que se mueran tus playas enamoradas de tu tierra.
Que se mueran tus montañas. Que se mueran.
Muere Borikén. Lo que jamás soñó el taíno.
Y lo que soñó el esclavo negro
seguirá siendo un esclavo sueño.
Muere San Juan Bautista,
voz del que una vez vivió sin miedo,
y entrega tu cabeza en bandeja de plata.
Que se desangren tus ríos y se mueran de sed tus cauces.
Muere, que eres puerto sumido en la miseria.
¡Muere!
Que no vuelen tus aves.
Que no canten tus gallos.
Que no oiga tu gente mientras hablan los autos.
Que vivan todas esas estrellas que no te pertenecen
y que te desposean de la única luz que siempre te ha alumbrado.
¡Muere!
Que se llene tu tierra de árboles caídos
y sobre tu cabeza arrojen un bálsamo de piedras.
Has cavado bien tu tumba en una maldita jungla de cemento
y un extraño cincelará la lápida de todo un pueblo.
Pero, ¿podrá el gigante clavar la tapa sobre el féretro?
Como un cordero te han llevado al matadero.
¡Muere!
Que se mueran las caricias de tus madres.
Que se mueran los abrazos de tus padres.
Que se muera el juego de tus hijos
y que viva el tiempo muerto de tus venas.
¡Muere!
Que un día todos los que mueren
resucitarán.
cspellot 2005

Good bye, Papa

Poema para Juan Pablo II/Poem for John Paul II

From the still Spring waters of the Valley
to the Winter laden Mountain tops,
it’s been a long journey, Papa.
You said they called you and so you came.
Did you leave your heart at home?
Did home give you hers?
Or are your heart and home
still yonder
past the Valley and Winter laden slopes?
We pray for you now, Papa.
In this hour of death,
yours and ours, ours and yours
We pray.
And we’d take your hand past them with you
but you’d put your hand over our hearts whispering,
"No."
Good bye, Papa.
We see you slowly walking past them.
Would you pray for us in this hour of death?
Ours.
Good bye, Papa.
We know where you’ll be.
Good bye, Papa.
Rest now from this long journey.
If only for a little while,
good bye.
cspellot2005

The Rocking Chair

Poema/Poem

The twilight outside the window
vainly strives to stay alive.
On the wall a baby's picture, and then
his midday light on golden frame.
Outside the light succumbs to blue,
the silver smile of her caress
so soothing by my side . . . inside.
But I am alone
watching tonight yesterday's dream.
Outside so big, inside so cold.
She slowly comes, I slowly await.
Surely softly we will clash without a word,
for now otherwise it cannot be.
Again I see the pictures with a smile,
and in this my rocking chair while I take her hand,
I'll think of death as dead.
cspellot

Little Brother

Poema/Poem

How I wish I could be everything you didn't have,
little brother.
I'd be a place you could call home,
I'd be a bed with new sheets to keep you warm,
I'd be sweet dreams where you could play,
I'd be clean clothes over your body,
I'd be your daily bread.
How much I wish I could be everything you didn't have,
little brother!
But life called me to build my own house,
little brother.
Life called me to father my own children,
and to see them smile while you were sad.
How could we live like this, my dearest, little brother?
How could I live like this, my precious, little brother?
I will miss you.
cspellot

Yo también me llamo Pedro

Soneto/Sonnet

Perseguí yo a tus captores
Para estar cerca de ti.
Y tan valiente me creí
Que allí con tus opresores

En poco tuve mi suerte.
Me vi con ellos calentándome
Y vinieron acusándome...
¿Tu suerte también mi muerte?

Fui uno más de los villanos
Y al decir “No lo conozco”
La luz se fue de mis manos.

Cantó un gallo junto a un cedro.
¡Oh, perdóname, Señor!
Yo también me llamo Pedro.


My name is also Peter

I followed your captors
To be close to you.
I thought myself so valiant
That there with your oppressors

Thought little of my fate.
There I was with them at the fire
And they came accusing me…
Your fate also my death?

Became one more of the villains
And while saying “I don’t know him”
The light left my hands.

A rooster sang there by a cedar.
Oh, forgive me, Lord!
My name is also Peter.
cspellot2005