Month: January 2013

The Gospel According to Downton

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Sunday truth isn’t found only in church

The Downton Abbey craze is real.
But just what is it that appeals?
Me thinks there’s something in each script
that resonates within.

We see that nothing stays the same.
That beauty fades and so does fame.
That comforts we have long embraced
can’t go on without end.

Like Robert Crawley, we hate change.
To do things differently seems strange.
Our customs like old overcoats are,
oh, so comfortable.

The Earl of Grantham (like a mirror)
reflects our hate of what seems queer.
When insecure, we fight reform
convinced that we are right.

But growth occurs when we adjust.
We have to change. To thrive, we must.
While moral absolutes are fixed,
there’s much in life that’s not.

Pop! Goes the Weasel

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Lancing Armstrong’s boil of deceit; Goodbye Abby!

Pop! Goes the Weasel
Lancing Armstrong’s Boil of Deceit

A big boil of deception
has been lanced and as it drains
the stench of overt lying fouls the air.
Deceit has robbed the public
of a trust they proudly held
in a champion whose records were quite rare.

When we choose not to be honest
and mislead those we inspire,
the dreams that shatter cannot be restored.
They are shards too small for gluing.
All the fragments that remain
are but promises now broken on the floor.

Is forgiveness sought expected?
Is the seeker quite sincere?
Or is such a strong-arm tactic to save face?
Coming clean (confessing failure)
is a worthy act indeed,
but the motive must be pure to bathe in grace.

Goodbye Abby!
A final letter to a dear lady

News of your death has filled me with a bittersweet feeling.
I’m glad you’ve been released from the bandit of dementia
that mercilessly robbed you of your memories and joie de vivre.
Nonetheless, I’m sad just the same.
Our world is less bright without your brilliant smile.

Thank you for a lifetime of advice giving
all the while taking the risk of being misunderstood.
You must have known from the start that speaking your mind
with the hope of touching another’s heart has a price tag.

I started reading your column when I was just a kid.
As I recall, it’s what got me started reading the newspaper to begin with.
I didn’t always agree with you, but your concise and candid replies
were fun to read and taught me about responsibility and relationships.

Your columns modeled how to reach out to those who reach out to you.
With humor and insight, you found a way to benefit countless readers
while personally relating to a single individual.
Your winsome writing inspired me to do the same.

And so I keep trying.
Writing and reaching with the hope of helping others
while encouraging them to listen to their heart and do the right thing.
With fingers on the home row of my keyboard,
I peck away hunting to find the success that marked your life.

Rest in peace, Pauline Phillips.
You were a dear, indeed!
Goodbye Abby!

Signed,
A grateful reader.

The Lord’s Day vs. Game Day

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

A new look at Sunday worship

Every Sunday football’s faithful
robed in sacred color schemes
chant their praises to the pigskin god on high.
In cathedrals (domed and open)
these devoted fans converge
raising arms (as if in worship) to the sky.

On the field a reenactment
of some ancient sacrifice
calls to mind the gladiator’s brute and gore.
With vicarious allegiance
those who look-on feel the pain
as they pray the pigskin god will fix the score.

It’s religion pure and simple.
There’s a liturgy observed
by the priests with whistles clad in black-and-white.
And the banners they’re unfurling
call to mind transgressions made
making clear the cost of penance in plain sight.

The conversion rate is stunning.
New believers fill the seats
as they flock each week to find community.
It’s a fellowship like family
where nobody feels alone.
That is why it is their faith’s identity.

What was once a fun amusement
has become idolatry.
Even pastors cancel church for play-off games.
Yes, the Lord’s Day has been tackled
and then sidelined (left for dead)
and the worst part is it’s happened without shame.

I Resolve to Resolve

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

In praise of New Year’s resolutions

They’re easy to make but hard to keep.
And like Mount Si, their trail is steep.
The resolutions that we make
in time will test our will.

These hopeful goals are New Year’s dreams
that aim to stitch life’s fraying seams
and realign what’s not quite right
as we begin again.

They are a way to budget time
and like we sing in Auld Lang Syne,
resolving toasts “to betters days”
while paying daily dues.

So let’s resolve to make a plan
(eschewing can’t, embracing can)
and work our plan strategically
until we reach our goals.