{"id":3248,"date":"2007-03-19T09:35:00","date_gmt":"2007-03-19T09:35:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/standingonmyhead\/2007\/03\/priest-poem\/"},"modified":"2007-03-19T09:35:00","modified_gmt":"2007-03-19T09:35:00","slug":"priest-poem","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/standingonmyhead\/2007\/03\/priest-poem.html","title":{"rendered":"Priest Poem"},"content":{"rendered":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional\/\/EN\" \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/REC-html40\/loose.dtd\">\n<html><head><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><\/head><body><p><a href=\"https:\/\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/_5BV_YADVD7o\/Rf6VZlUGZsI\/AAAAAAAAAaQ\/Di6N3TGxK8Q\/s1600-h\/thurible.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/_5BV_YADVD7o\/Rf6VZlUGZsI\/AAAAAAAAAaQ\/Di6N3TGxK8Q\/s320\/thurible.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a><\/p>\n<div><span style=\"font-family:georgia\"><span style=\"color:#cc0000\">Lenten Incense <\/span>\n<p><span style=\"color:#cc0000\">The boy kneels as the Father prods the coals<br>that glower in the thurible. The gray<br>ash sticks, then crumbles, shifts and falls away.<br>The embers surge orange before the granules,<br>like tiny jewels, are spooned onto the fire.<br>It is a simple ritual\u2014almost quaint\u2013<br>done with ancient courtesy and restraint.<br>In the burnt brass bowl, like a little pyre,<br>the fire and fuel co-mingle and produce<br>a waft of smoke that lifts to curl and cling,<br>and break the chains of human suffering.<br>It\u2019s a burnt offering; Pentecost\u2013 A bush<br>blazing in the desert where I roam.<br>It\u2019s the smoke on Sinai; the still, small voice\u2013<\/span><\/p><\/span><\/div>\n<div><span style=\"font-family:georgia\"><span style=\"color:#cc0000\">and the sweet, cloudy pillar that leads me home.<\/span><\/span><span style=\"color:#cc0000\"><br><\/span><\/div>\n<p><span style=\"color:#660000\"><\/span><\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Lenten Incense The boy kneels as the Father prods the coalsthat glower in the thurible. The grayash sticks, then crumbles, shifts and falls away.The embers surge orange before the granules,like tiny jewels, are spooned onto the fire.It is a simple ritual\u2014almost quaint\u2013done with ancient courtesy and restraint.In the burnt brass bowl, like a little pyre,the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":557,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3248","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Priest Poem<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Lenten Incense The boy kneels as the Father prods the coalsthat glower in the thurible. The grayash sticks, then crumbles, shifts and falls away.The\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/standingonmyhead\/2007\/03\/priest-poem.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Priest Poem\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Lenten Incense The boy kneels as the Father prods the coalsthat glower in the thurible. The grayash sticks, then crumbles, shifts and falls away.The\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/standingonmyhead\/2007\/03\/priest-poem.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Fr. 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