
“Blue-Suited Prayer on Burgundy” Painting: Ronald Raab, CSC
Today’s image of Jesus in a blue suit and the poem of the paradox of prayer is based on today’s gospel from Matthew 23: “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself with exalted.”
Blue-Suited Prayer on Burgundy
The oak rocker with Nineteenth Century curves
Invites me to rest on the burgundy upholstery faded
Only on the left
From years of rocking near the window in morning
Empty today
Holding only a body of dust on its rockers
Because today I am repulsed by the chair beside my bed
That calls me to pray in silence and trust
If I give in to my morning rituals
I will have to let go and change
Silently
Sipping black coffee
Cuddled in darkness
Allowing the seductive morning breath of silence
To strip me bare
From my thoughts
Like claw marks on the arms of the antique
My negative stories in my brain that create my false life
If I give in
To the silence that beckons me
I will have to let go of my blue-suited ego
That I wear like metal armor to defend
And to protect myself from real power
That my heart seeks
Even if I sit wearing my pinstriped bathrobe
My ego longs for the blue suit of power
With the red tie so everyone will know
That I remain self-sufficient
And that I live self-possessed
So if I give in and turn off the morning news
Click off the lights and rouse my desire
For what really matters
My prayer will welcome me
Deeply into the chair that was handed down
To me from a friend who died of AIDS
In the years where the burgundy faded
My ancestors rocked their morning fears
On some days
Repulsed by inner questions and outward realities
Until finally naked, fully exposed
So I sit down and my quivering soul gives in
Today into the depths of prayer
Waiting for the genuine power of love
With humility and gratitude
Resting on the partially faded seat
Waiting for my heart’s desire near the window
Oh so true. This beautiful poem touched my heart this morning. Thank you and god bless you Father.
“Body of dust” is a great phrase evoking both the reality of actual dust on the chair and also “dust you are.”
As I walked through darkness and fog toward the bus stop this morning, I too marveled at the silence, and how much I love those early morning hours! Thanks for sharing, Fr. Ron!
“In the years where the burgundy faded
My ancestors rocked their morning fears,” is my favorite line right now. Superb! Thank you for this poem.