Catechismus Nebulus

I saw angels push the rushing
clouds again against the wind,
and felt not joy, but only fear:
I knew that I had sinned.

“Does He return?” —
the question piqued within
my furrowed mind,
as a rumbling jet again awoke
the doubt I’d left behind.

Why is it always jets?
Why do I seek
enslavement for Our Lord
in sounds which only my weak faith
imagines are the Word?

Why not propeller planes?
Why do such sounds
not turn my heart?
I know I’ve got it coming, though;
Our Lord’s a Lord of Art:

He’ll abase my vanity, He will,
and when He comes again,
a herald in a Cessna or a Piper
will descend,

And to such sounds, it well may be,
all mortal knees shall bend,
as angels push the rushing
clouds again against the wind.




  1. While running today, the sky spoke of angels pushing clouds–declaring His glory. “Our Lord’s a Lord of Art”; ah yes. I love this poem.
    -an impartial fan

  2. Thanks, Mom. The “art” I imagine in this poem is specifically how Christ’s coming again will likely surprise us by being radically “other” than what we expect. Indeed, His coming to us now happens in ways radically “other” than what we expect and desire. The Word and the Sacraments are much too mundane for a world desirous of wizardry and mysticism…

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