Merciful

To the person who strikes you on one cheek,
offer the other one as well,
and from the person who takes your cloak,
do not withhold even your tunic.
Give to everyone who asks of you,
and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back.
Do to others as you would have them do to you….
But rather, love your enemies and do good to them,
and lend expecting nothing back;
then your reward will be great
and you will be children of the Most High,
for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.
Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
—Luke 6:27-38

As you are merciful, O God,
and drop down heaven's dew
on even my ungrateful heart,
let me show mercy, too.

All anyone can ask of me
is something you have given—
but none of it can set me free
and none of it is heaven.

For only you, Omnipotent
o'er all that's ever been,
when time has folded up my tent
can give me life again.

Then if a beggar claims my coat,
my shirt I freely give,
for we are in the selfsame boat
and only want to live.

And if I face an enemy,
his face is yours, O Lord.
As I would have him to do me,
let me do all the more.

For both of us are like to drown
in earthly storm and strife.
So let your mercy still drop down
and bring us back to life!

The Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Rembrandt, 1632 – http://www.gardnermuseum.org : Home : Info : Pic, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6812612

Prayer to St. Joseph

How often did you wake and weep,
admitting you were not enough
to hedge the days and guard the sleep
of those, above all else, you loved?

And if you slept, to drown in dreams
disastrous as the ancient flood,
that echoed with imagined screams
while you stuck helpless in the mud?

But there were angels in the night—
like sentinels the watch they kept
and filled the broken hours with light,
until at last you sank and slept

or rose in haste—and did they show
a flame by night, a cloud by day
to lead you by the quickest road
to Egypt, where his safety lay?

Then, Joseph, when I wake at night
and sleep and peace are both far off,
keep watch with me to see the light
while I, like you, am not enough.

O father of the living lord,
I am not strong; I am not brave.
Keep those I love from fire and sword;
lend me the help your angels gave. Amen.

Joseph’s Dream, Rembrandt, c. 1645 By Workshop of Rembrandt – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9476806

Fig Tree

Learn a lesson from the fig tree.
When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves,
you know that summer is near.
In the same way, when you see these things happening,
know that he is near, at the gates.
Amen, I say to you,
this generation will not pass away
until all these things have taken place.
Heaven and earth will pass away,
but my words will not pass away.
–Mark 13:24-32

There will be days of trial and tribulation:
The sun will hide; the moon will shine no more.
The princes and the pow'rs will all be shaken,
and they will see the coming of the Lord.

Come, learn to read the wonders of the heavens,
the times and seasons ticking through the year.
For those with eyes to see, they are a message:
The days roll on, and Christ is drawing near.

Oh, let it be the lesson of the fig tree,
that summer comes and all the earth turns ripe,
the bud and blossom growing out of myst'ry,
the slow beginning of the fruit of life.

We wait the rising of the sun of justice;
the bride keeps vigil 'til she sees her groom.
With hope and fear we wait the coming judgment
to see the deserts bursting into bloom.

O, give us courage, Lord, to stand before you,
and strengthen us to make a level way
where all may journey safely to adore you,
and give us patience while we wait for day.

Trew, C.J., Plantae selectae quarum imagines ad exemplaria naturalia Londini, in hortis curiosorum nutrit, vol. 8: t. 73 (1771) [G.D. Ehret] – http://plantillustrations.org/illustration.php?id_illustration=58571&language=English, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22318968

Baking Bread

I have heard the earth is burning;
I can hear the tocsin ring,
but the planet still is turning—
I will see what morning brings.
For the hearth still needs its tending;
mouths are crying to be fed.
Yes, I know the world is ending,
so I stand here baking bread.

I have heard the fear that whispers,
heard the whispers turn to shouts.
I have offered no resistance
to the wisdom of my doubts.
But some other voice is calling
in the watches of the night,
saying, “Yes, the Temple's falling:
Will you offer me your mite?”

Should I so, O Christ my savior?
What I have is not enough,
but the little I can make here,
I will give the world in love.
For like Martha in her kitchen
and like Mary at your feet,
though my quiet work is hidden,
it is needed: Come and eat.

Johannes Vermeer Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, 1655 By Johannes Vermeer – fwE2zem7WDcSlA — Google Arts & Culture, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21865869

Kings of Earth

Riffing on Psalm 33:

Kings of earth call up their armies;
warriors sharpen spear and sword.
God moves earth and sea, disarming;
empires fall before the Lord.

Let the heart still hold its secrets;
let the plotting mind still plan.
God who made them holds their seasons;
they shall not extend their span.

Human strength avails us nothing:
Chariots sink into the sea;
weapons crumble, scarred and rusted;
all our tow'rs shall toppled be.

What will last? The stars o'erreaching.
What goes on? The ocean waves.
What stands firm? The earth beneath us,
while our mortal dust decays.

Even these shall cease their turning,
falling into entropy,
yet shall God in endless mercy
make his children still to be.

Kings and princes plot their vengeance
sinking in oblivion.
Still in God our hope is endless:
Mercy flows forever on.

Discarded and Forgotten, in DüsseldorfBy marsupium photography – https://www.flickr.com/photos/hagdorned/9291943561/, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57468833

Mantle

To those who stand on corners
or walk the highways out,
to those who sleep in doorways,
reach out your mantle now
and drape it as a shelter
across the unkind earth,
a tent of finest velvet
for those who sleep on dirt.

Reach out to them, O Mary
apparelled in the sun,
the hounded and the harried,
and hide them from the guns.
See those in need of rescue
and spread for them your cloak
to be a sky-blue refuge
that screens them from the foe.

O Mother, now behold them,
the weary and the poor,
and in your arms enfold them 
where once you held the Lord,
to shield them from the Herods—
O, bear them safe away
beyond the reach of terror
to live another day.

The Ravensburger Schutzmantelmadonna, c. 1480, attributed to Michel Erhart, painted limewood, Bode Museum, Berlin. Attributed to Michel Erhart – Self-photographed, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2293730

Psalm 139: Too Great For Me

Based on Psalm 139:

You saw me in the darkness
within my mother's womb;
in every hope and heartache
I have been known to you.
I flee you and I fight you;
I turn from you in shame,
but I cannot deny you,
and still you call my name.

In rising and in sinking,
in falling, there to lie,
all that I long have hidden
is here before your eye.
My secrets and my shadows
to you are bright as day,
and all I long to ask you,
you know before I say.

When I would shrink in terror
there's courage that you give,
who know me in my failure—
You know, and you forgive.
And still you call, O Father;
beside me still you stand.
Too great for me, this knowledge,
that I am in your hand.

More details

Coro alto, Sé de Braga Portugal. Photo By Joseolgon – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=72225140

Warp and Weft

And at your name all knees will bend,
all heads will bow to bear your yoke.
O, lay it gently on us then!
Your mercy, Lord, is all my hope,

for all you trusted to my hands,
the blessings on my head you poured,
my hans have twisted from their ends,
my thoughts have beaten into swords.

So when your judgment comes, O Christ,
how will you reckon all I've done,
the broken endings I have spliced
to all the graces you had spun?

Still bend my shoulders to your yoke
as you bent yours to humankind's:
So you restore the things I broke 
and pour again your new-made wine.

Still reach your hands out right and left:
No weaver, but a carpenter,
when you stretch out the warp and weft
my crooked ways run straight and sure,

for in your work my work is good.
Your wounded hands hold all my ends
and turn them as I never could
'til swords are plowshares once again.

Weaver, Nearer an Open Windows By Vincent van Gogh – Copied from an art book, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9108043

Broken World

Riffing on Psalm 46:

The waters rage and riot;
their rampage fills the sky,
and all we know of quiet
is but the cyclone's eye.
The mountains quake in terror—
then how shall we not fear?
Our broken world's repairer,
why do you not draw near?

And if we have offended,
done evil in your sight,
oh, can it not be mended?
Can nothing be put right?
Remember, Lord, the deluge,
your promise to all things:
Come make for us a refuge
beneath your outspread wings.

Come fill our thirst and hunger;
lift up the lost and poor,
then work a greater wonder
and still the rage of war.
Our strength and our salvation,
our rescue in distress,
though mountain fall and nation,
draw near, draw near to us.