Fountain

“Behold, I am coming soon.
I bring with me the recompense I will give to each
according to his deeds.
I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last,
the beginning and the end.”…
The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.”
Let the hearer say, “Come.”
Let the one who thirsts come forward,
and the one who wants it receive the gift of life-giving water.
The one who gives this testimony says, “Yes, I am coming soon.”
Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!
—Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20

The Alpha and Omega;
beginning and the end;
the sea, the stream, the wellspring;
the first and last Amen—

You flow from love unbounded
and unto love return,
the one life-giving fountain.
O, quench a world that burns!

Let him who thirsts come forward;
let him who wants draw near,
for you have promised torrents
to wash away our tears.

For you have promised rivers
to make the deserts bloom:
Their currents flow forever
out of an empty tomb!

Give us the living water
still welling from your side.
Transform your sons and daughters
to make of us your bride

and plunge us in that ocean
that moves not by the moon
but by your heartbeat's motion—
And, oh, come soon! Come soon!

Fountains of St. Peter’s Square by Carlo Maderno (1614) and Bernini (1677), Photo By Lucaok – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2549085

Glorious

Mashing up today’s readings:

And I have given them the glory you gave me,
so that they may be one, as we are one,
I in them and you in me,
that they may be brought to perfection as one,
that the world may know that you sent me,
and that you loved them even as you loved me.
–John 17:20-26

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.”
Let the hearer say, “Come.”
Let the one who thirsts come forward,
and the one who wants it receive the gift of life-giving water.
The one who gives this testimony says, “Yes, I am coming soon.”
Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!
–Revelation 22:12-20

“Let there be light”: That light will dawn.
“Let there be life”: It will not die.
What God has promised yet will come;
what God has willed none will defy.

Then there will come an endless light
that our pale days but hint at now,
a glory that will fill the night
and bind it into heaven's hour.

The day in night, the night in day:
so God in Christ and Christ in us.
Then nothing shall take us away
and, oh, we shall be glorious!

Restored, as on the seventh morn,
not yet in shame and fig leaf dressed,
not more forsaken nor forlorn,
and from our labors we shall rest.

May it come quickly, Lord, we pray!
The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!”
as you yourself taught them to say,
and as you said it first to them.

Your word in us is ours to you,
as God in you and you in us:
Come quickly, Lord; make all things new!
And answer—ever answer—“Yes!”

English: Mosaic in the Baptistry of San Giovanni of Florence, ca. 1300, by the Florentine Master. By Florentinischer Meister um 1300 – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=150949

Back To the Beginning

So the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.”
When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord,
he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad,
and jumped into the sea.
—John 21:1-19

I went back to the beginning,
now that we had reached the end
and the sun kept right on spinning
over us bewildered men.
For we found the tomb was empty
that we'd laid his body in—
I went back to where he met me;
maybe there I could begin.

Without hope and without mooring
we caught nothing through the night,
but a voice came with the morning,
“Cast your nets upon the right.”
So, dawn-dazzled, we worked blindly
just to bring the nets on board.
John alone of us saw rightly:
“Peter, look: It is the Lord!”

Once, I thought it wouldn't faze me
just to walk upon the depths.
In the end, I begged him, “Save me!”
I was sinking to my death.
Now I see the friend who fed me,
and I plunge into the wave
sinking down without a tremor
like a body in a grave.

I am not afraid of dying,
now my death is bound with his.
In his mercy, I am rising
from the dark of my abyss.
Now his dawning fills my vision:
There is welcome in his eyes.
I have fallen; I am risen
in the morning light of Christ.

Christ Appears On the Shore of Lake Tiberias, By James Tissot, circa 1886/94 – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2008, 00.159.343_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10904799

Empty Nets

Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.”
They said to him, “We also will come with you.”
So they went out and got into the boat,
but that night they caught nothing.
When it was already dawn, Jesus was standing on the shore;
but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.
Jesus said to them, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?”
They answered him, “No.”
So he said to them, “Cast the net over the right side of the boat
and you will find something.”
So they cast it, and were not able to pull it in
because of the number of fish.
—John 21:1-19

When all we knew was lost and gone,
our world unsettled as the wave,
still, wonder met us with the dawn:
We looked into your empty grave.

We sail now as we've always sailed,
but all our nets come empty back—
yet we recall the baskets filled,
abundance you brought from our lack.

Our hunger you turned to a feast,
and even death you turned to life.
But we must go on restless seas:
Can you bring peace out of our strife?

A voice cries, “Cast your nets once more.”
We do, though we have fished all night—
and you are standing on the shore
and all the world is new and bright.

Now all that had been emptied out
is filled with more than it can hold.
The long night of our dread and doubt
pours forth the morning turning gold.

And there you stand, the Son of God,
inviting us to break our fast,
in restless seas our solid rock,
our certainty and home at last.

Painting by Henry Ossawa Tanner, circa 1913 – Google Arts & Culture — LAHsSESclImgWA, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=71770460

Mercy

You rose, O Christ, creation's brightest morn,
but still you show the marks where you were torn.
On us who wound you still as we did then,
breathe peace again.

On Thomas, smarting raw with newfound grief,
who could not bear the burden of belief,
when he cries out at last, “My Lord and God!”
show him your heart.

And Mary, who your messenger became,
was blind to you until you called her name.
She clutched at you: Her frightened grasp release
and give her peace.

Then Peter, too, who knew himself afraid
but when the cockerel crowed three times, “Betrayed!”
whose courage died, as it lived, by the sword:
Have mercy, Lord.

And even—in your mercy's farthest scope—
on him who dangled from a desperate rope,
poor Judas, come to greet you with a kiss:
Forgive him this.

For none of us can love you as we should;
for all of us, your grief turns to our good.
On us who take our comfort in your wounds, 
have mercy, too.

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio, c. 1602 – Downloaded from Google Arts & Culture using dezoomify-rshttps://artsandculture.google.com/asset/der-ungl%C3%A4ubige-thomas-michelangelo-merisi-named-caravaggio/OAEjjQkNdRL9sg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=120649550

Where?

Where is the shining of the morn?
Where is the joy that should be born?
So long have these dry bones been numb,
even the songs that should adorn
the Easter dawn are lying dumb.
Where are the angels who should come

to raise my hope on Easter day?
My heart a stone to roll away,
it hides the hollow where I'm cleft,
as empty as the place you lay.
On glory's morning bare, bereft,
and when I seek you there, you've left.

Where is the love as strong as death
while all creation holds its breath
and hope lies lifeless in the grave?
Sinking beneath a shibboleth
the spotted, blemished flock to save,
leading them through the parted wave.

Then may you through the wound in me
walk dryshod—Moses through the sea,
or Joshua through Jordan's bed—
to let my pinioned limbs go free,
to bring my breath back whence it fled,
and raise me living from the dead!

Pierre Jean Van der Ouderaa – De heilige vrouwen keren terug van Christus’ graf – 1598 – Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp – Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=134036734