Untainted Glory

This poem deserves to be hung out in the sun, it is so moist with grace, so that in drying it can be fragrant spring in our nostrils, and then be lovingly folded and closeted in the treasury of our hearts.
The author is David Dickens, the subject begins as Tarasios, patriarch of the New Rome that straddles the worlds, and ends as ourselves, bowed in humble relief at the foot of the Cross, the Throne of the glorious King.

Of the great city, that center of spheres
You were born and raised its eminent son.
Noted as judge of men in high repute
Then given to advise the empire’s head.
Led first astray embracing heresy
Then recanting took the heavy schema.
From the lowly repentance monastic
You were recalled to sit upon the throne.

They thought you a servant of thrones of men
But your heart had long belonged to your God.
Holy Tarasius restored union
And the icons of Constantinople.
Hailed high from Rome to Alexandria
Your zeal sealed the end of iconoclasm.
Held the council against the threatening mob
Yet gracefully reproved your enemies.

You endured these controversies and lies
Judgments too wise for the narrow to see.
Scandalizing pious busybodies
Though you offered them their pound of your flesh.
Loyal you did receive disloyalty
Friendly you received only animus.
In thoughtful wisdom you tempted the fools
And in forgiving brought judgment on your self.

What a struggle for peace and unity,
What a strong heart for your brother fellows,
What a hope of that sainthood foretasted,
May our mistakes be as blessed as yours!

And may we know that untainted glory.

This poem
is written and reads
like the kondakia we sing in church services.
Kondakia are like cries of truth that slip out of us
when we’re not looking.
Uniting praise of God with celebration of Him walking among men,
we think we write about the saints and ask their prayers
when actually, as always, we’re rushing lovingly,
hearts in hand, offering those we praise
and ourselves unto the Lord.
Unto You, O Lord,
glory to You.