Dear God, I cannot love Thee the way I want to.
You are the slim crescent of a moon that I see and
my self is the earth’s shadow that keeps me from
seeing all the moon.
The crescent is very beautiful and
perhaps that is all one like I am should or could see;
but what I am afraid of, dear God, is that
my self shadow will grow so large that it
blocks the whole moon,
and that I will judge myself by the shadow that is nothing. . .
I do not know You God because I am in the way.
Please help me to push myself aside.
Flannery O’Conner, 1925 – 1964, American Catholic writer
Your new moons and your appointed feasts
my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me;
I am weary of bearing them.
When you spread out your hands,
I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers,
I will not listen;
your hands are full of blood.
Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean;
remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes;
cease to do evil,
learn to do good;
bring justice to the fatherless,
plead the widow’s cause.
Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord:
though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
they shall become like wool.