The Train of Saints

(In honor of all the saints on All Saints Day)

The saints are ones who bring to heaven a train,
the souls of those who follow in their wake,
trailing behind as on a long, long chain,
like rows of ducks converging on a lake.

They are the folk a saint crossed on their path,
people they knew--or not, but who they prayed for,
their sheltered souls, avoiding all God’s wrath,
on Judgment Day, their saint they will parade for.

O fortunate few, who for a time once knew
someone you had not recognized as a saint,
from whom you took your cue, though sinner like you,
now you can honor them without restraint.

In heaven, O God, we’ll hear no more complaints
of all Your friends, Your multitude of saints.

                         by Pete Voelz     10/31/14

Holy Halloween

We all know Halloween is Hallowed Eve
because November First is All Saints Day,
we celebrate that Eve like we believe
there is some god of fun to whom we pray.

We hear of “Devil’s Night” and “trick or treat,”
though much is innocent and full of play,
it’s ghosts and death and devils that we meet,
and from God’s holy saints we’re led astray.

At Easter Vigil and Christmas Eve, it’s Christ,
more than some bunny’s eggs and Santa’s sleigh,
Who’s born and raised as death is sacrificed,
while devils bow to saints and heaven’s sway.

The Hallowed deviltry will go away,
while You, Lord, and Your saints forever stay.

                          by Pete Voelz     10/30/14

Auschwitz Max

(St. Maximilian Kolbe  1894-1941)

St. Kolbe, you were faithful to the max,
when Mary appeared, she tested out your ardor,
a red or white rose, which one more attracts?
You chose each rose--red martyr and white martyr.

One prisoner from Auschwitz got away,
the Nazi penalty--death for ten men,
one pleaded for his family in dismay,
you said you’d take his place as number ten.

They took you ten and threw you in a hole,
no food, no water for more than a week,
you led their song and cared about their soul,
and in the end, you turned the other cheek.

A priest of Christ, for Whom your blood you shed,
a saint of Mary, martyr--white and red.

                          by Pete Voelz     10/29/14

God's Answers

We speak to You, O God, and call it prayer,
we ask You, Father, Son and Spirit, for bread,
but how do You speak back with love and care?
With bread, You said, and not a stone instead.

You give us more to prove it’s from Your hand:
a miracle reveals it comes from You,
because a house divided cannot stand,
Your supernatural answer shows it’s true.

Lord, You’re attentive to my prayers down here,
not from below, You answer me from above,
not demons, but You hear my prayer sincere,
You send me bread and miracles with love.

Good cures, good saints, good fruit, all show it’s true,
that’s how we’re sure Your miracles come from You.

                           by Pete Voelz     10/27/14

More or Less Faith

The less God does for me, my faith is more,
the more God does, the less of faith I need.
If God did all, it seems my faith would soar,
yet there would then be nothing to concede.

What if for us God parted every sea?
There would be little left for us to do.
What if we fell and God just let us be?
Our faith would have to then be strong and true.

God rations out His grace, knowing we are
so fickle in our faith if graced too much;
then rations out our troubles just so far,
so that our faith and needs at least can touch.

God, grace me more, yet boost my faith, I pray,
to keep both faith and grace strong all the way.

                                  -- by Pete Voelz      3/06

Messy Certainty

What is there certain in a messy world?
We have to deal with it, there is no other,
where do true lovers turn once they have quarreled?
A child’s so lucky to have a good mother.

That life’s a mess for all, we know is true,
“What is truth?” Pilate asked a suffering Christ.
“I’ll rest,” said Mother Therese, “when life is through.”
She knew life’s best when self is sacrificed.

It’s selfishness that makes life such a mess,
both on a personal and worldly scale,
the saints showed there is nothing God can’t bless,
except our sins, the only way we fail.

While messy ones will muddle as we must,
in God Who made the stars we put our trust.

                            by Pete Voelz     10/26/14

A Thousand Minds

A thousand minds far greater than my own
have long ago interpreted the Bible,
for me to change their wisdom all alone
and trumpet mine would surely be a libel.

How could I disagree with Saint Augustine,*
the Fathers of the Church with smarts supreme,
great theologians like Jerome or Justin,
whom Christ appeared to in his memorable dream.

Who am I, but one who’s so often failed
to tell what God’s word means by my conceit?
Why am I wiser than those great ones hailed
by centuries for the scholarship they treat?

How can I claim that I am on God’s side,
when I’m wild-eyed and blind by my own pride?

* Augustine is still taught, even in secular universities, for
his City of God in philosophy and political theory courses.

                         by Pete Voelz     10/16/14