Peter Vanderberg 4/14/25
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Let Us Begin: New Book on the Life and Power of St. Francis
Oh, that today you would hear God’s voice: harden not your hearts
— Psalm 95
1
We choose to bear witness, ashen crosses
blazoned on our brows. This is not easy or comfortable —
this is hunger, this is sacrifice, this is praying in the dark.
Let the spirit lead you into love’s wilderness.
Even now says the Lord, returned to me —
Each morning cardinals and robins sing their hallelujahs
with the urgency of survival. Even now, God says,
return. Listen for his voice, resonant in every song.
When my daughter sees the forsythia’s first bright flowers,
she announces “Spring is here!” and we are young again —
surprised by the lengthening of days, watching sparrows
build nests with dead grass, in love with magnolia trees.
But I am the leper, the demoniac, the blind man at the gate.
I say “my soul will be healed” watching to see if He will shake his head.
2
Then it happens while driving my son to practice, “Look!”
he says, “Those clouds—the door of Heaven is opening and Jesus
is about to float down.” And behold, it was true—at a red light
on Sunrise Highway—tears in my eyes—God unhardened my heart.
When I try to explain miracles, the stories unravel like half-
remembered dreams. It is not remarkable that forsythia is blooming,
or that birds sing before dawn, or that sun breaks through clouds.
These are common things and I have little faith, but sometimes
it only takes a small silent sound to break through—calling you
to be a new gospel, the prodigal son returned.
After Easter morning, birds will invite us to join the dawn chorus,
stars will train our eyes to gaze deeper into night,
and we will see the wilderness opening to us—blossoming,
lush with signs that call us to be holy—emissaries of divine love.
Author Note: I believe that every encounter we have with people, nature, beauty, loss—every experience is God trying to communicate with us. This isn’t easy of course, but prayer helps. For me, writing—especially poetry—is an act of prayer, of trying to listen to God’s call and to create something from that to share with others. This poem came from those ideas as I have been moving through Lent this year.
Peter Vanderberg teaches at a Catholic high school on Long Island.
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