*Today's "religious crisis" is real only for those minds that have been captured by ideology-that is, those who have adopted some preconceived representation of human life and faith.  Such is the illusion that avoids hearing the naked word.  It encourages people to fool themselves with dreams about an earlier period of faith or of one that is about to come, "post crisis", according to the wonderful formula used by some American bishops, who learned it from industrial leaders.  In this way many are able once again to repress reality.  So many men find an unavowed pleasure in debates, unrelated to any genuine commitment.  Few are ready to pay the price of tension, suspicion and solitude.  Nevertheless, the Christian communion is made up of traditions, ruptures, fidelity, anger, love and joy....

-Jean Sulivan  

Cry out there, Rock

Cry out there , Rock

cry out there.

Pebble-pelted

by the children's

loyal casting.

Cry out there, Rock

cry out there.

Mud-pool splattered

in a floods

sharp tongue raging.

Cry out there, Rock

cry out there.

Voodoo-vexed

as a seer through some

canon's wooing, 

cry out there, Rock

cry out there.

Spit 'n spattered

your life's allotment and

Evil's cunning.

Cry out there, Rock

cry out there.

the night we danced

she was lovely

she was pretty;

how we glanced into each other.

and the music 

oh, the music

caused  that we should prance together.

with a whirl

and then a twirl

she and i now danced together.

with a one, two

with a one, two

we whisked about the tables.

up and down, around

leaping with the sound.

we danced amongst the people.

oh, how well we played

music everywhere

milling, thrilling in the air!

what an evening

handsome evening

my beloved freely swaying.

she was lovely

ever pretty;

how we glanced into each other.

that night my heart sang

the night my beloved

swooned me, peacing and caressing.

she was freeing

elevating;

i shan't forget our joyful evening.