One theme. One poet. One memoirist.

Friday, January 29, 2010


Response to the first theme, Thirst.

John 4:6-7

He surprised me when we met
by asking only for a drink of water.
There were no catcalls, no surreptitious touches.
He did not laugh with his friends while I pretended not to hear.
He just wanted a drink of water.
As I drew it, he told me that I looked tired--
that it must have been difficult to be always fetching and carrying.
Before I knew it, I was telling him everything.
From the rudeness of men to the cruelty of women.
When I was afraid I might begin to cry, he touched my hand.
"It doesn't matter." He said, and I believed him.
Until then I had never realized I was lonely.


Among my on-going academic, theological, and poetic projects is a series of poems in which I attempt to (re)imagine the lives of various women in the New Testament, particularly their relationships to Christ. It's an interesting and spiritually rewarding project--one which I pursue with a great deal of passion. I'm fascinated by the women in these texts on an academic level, certainly. There are always questions about the roles they played in the early church, their various relationships with Christ and with the apostles, and why we read so little about them. Yet, what I find even more intriguing are questions of their lives before and after Christ. As a Roman Catholic I believe that the Incarnation changed profoundly what it means to be human. What must have passed through these women's minds as they met Christ and throughout their interactions with him?

Thus far I've managed to draft and complete a few poems surrounding these remarkable women (The BVM, Mary Magdalene, Elizabeth, and Salome) imagining their lives and how they were changed after meeting Christ. I've been thinking about the woman in John 4 for awhile now, and am glad to have finally drafted something halfway decent.

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