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CAFOD

In the star we see the cross;
its points, the thorns,
the azure ring, his robe.
The light which shines on all,
the arms which embrace all.

And this despite their mockery,
mock majesty, pageant pantomime and pomp.
All human conceptions of kingship
border on the Vaudeville
verge on the burlesque.

Kings in a stable out of proportion
distorted, like the body on the cross.
Our attempt to nail down Divinity
racked and disjointed,
still suffering our mock homage.

Cast crowns, cast lots, cast off your
tawdry kind of kingship -
so much dressing up -
Christ rides triumphant over cast-down cloaks
every inch a king with none of the apparel.

His crown, the star
the cross, his throne where he
invests the cosmos with his gift of Love, unadorned.

Amen.

Sister Laurentia Johns OSB, Stanbrook Abbey

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