To Phoebe*
A POEM
Phoebe,
Gentle handmaid
Of us all,
Who assisted Paul
And others
Of the early church,
What miracle of time and grace
Reminds us of your ancient faith?
Phoebe,
Watchful and solemn
Witness,
Who would guess
Your quiet gaze
Saw chrism-anointed Wend their appointed way
To days of light and truth?
Phoebe,
Chosen of God,
Your blessed part,
A gift we share,
Was simply to be there,
With silent song
And secret hope
Hidden in your heart.
Phoebe,
One of us,
What wondrous thought,
What contrition
Or intuition,
Made you know
The infant church
Would grow
Eternally?
Phoebe,
Brave yet docile,
Patient sister to apostle,
Your shy devotion
To the mystery
Obscures a timeless
Place in history.
Phoebe,
Beloved servant of the King,
I’m wondering,
Is it by chance
Your name is sung
From leafy bough and branch
Forevermore
Each spring?
*Romans 16:1-6 and The Ministry of Women in the Early Church (1960) by Jean Danielou, S.J.
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