Maps

O God, if it were simple, would you tell me,
Or is that wisdom only worth its cost?
I've bought so much that others tried to sell me,
but every map I've followed got me lost.

There is a process, paring down the dead weight,
a strange impatience in passivity,
of letting change occur when it feels too late
as wounds heal in a wonder I can't see.

I fling myself against the bars of waiting—
how many of these scars are from my hands?
but when the moment comes I find I'm ready,
and some new map unfolds for distant lands.

So bandages and scabs fall off behind me—
They have to: I can't carry any more.
You are the road I tread, so I tread lightly.
You are the road, and then you are the door.

Then let me lay down all my old resentments.
The needle's eye's not big enough for these.
I've got a ways to go to reach that entrance.
Lord, guide my feet into the way of peace.

The Hereford Mappa Mundi, Hereford Cathedral, England, c. 1300, a classic “T-O” map with Jerusalem at the center, east toward the top, Europe the bottom left and Africa on the right By Unknown author – unesco.org.uk, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=41201813

Milling

You who set the seasons turning
made the earth and sky your wheels;
winter's bite and summer's burning
crush the gathered seeds to meal.

Take, O God, the grain you harvest,
blest or blighted at your will,
wearing down what's sharp and hard-edged:
Cast the grist into your mill.

Take my body, stripped and winnowed;
peel it back to show the soul.
Take me grown and then diminished—
yet the breaking makes me whole.

Grind me down to germ and essence
here between the earth and sun.
Raw, then, may I feel your presence
'twixt the wheels that you have spun.

Yet to all things comes an ending:
From the stones I am released
to the kneading trough—God, gently!—
seed to flour and flour to feast.

Let me be the bread you're taking
if it means that you will bless,
for it's certain I am breaking:
Make me into something else.

Celtic-type hand mill By This illustration was made by (User:Royonx) and released under the license(s) stated above. You are free to use it for any purpose as long as you credit me and follow the terms of the license.Example : © Michel Royon / Wikimedia CommonsIf you use this image outside of the Wikimedia projects, I would be happy to hear from you par courriel ( royonx gmail.com). Thanks !Ce message en français – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3109582

Peter On the Deck

After he had finished speaking, he said to Simon,
“Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.”
Simon said in reply,
“Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing,
but at your command I will lower the nets.”
When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish
and their nets were tearing.
They signaled to their partners in the other boat
to come to help them.
They came and filled both boats
so that the boats were in danger of sinking.
When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at the knees of Jesus and said,
“Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”
For astonishment at the catch of fish they had made seized him
and all those with him,
and likewise James and John, the sons of Zebedee,
who were partners of Simon.
Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid;
from now on you will be catching men.”
When they brought their boats to the shore,
they left everything and followed him.
—Luke 5:1-11

Who are you who can call
a catch from empty seas
to fill our nets, our boats, and all,
yet bring me to my knees?

See, I had fished all night
my gaping hold to fill,
but at the dawning of the light
my boat was empty still.

Depart from me, O Lord;
I am a sinful man.
I'd not have taken you on board
if I had known your plan.

For when you gave the word 
I cast my nets again—
and I was caught by what I've heard.
Your nets are catching men.

You draw me from my sea—
I cower on the deck
and don't know if my life will be
a voyage or a wreck.

But I'll obey the call
to cast these nets once more
and offer you, my God, my all—
not my catch now but yours.

James Tissot, The Miraculous Draught of Fishes, Brooklyn Museum – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2006, 00.159.87_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195917

Living Waters

From spring to river streams will go,
and rivers to the sea,
and when the living waters flow,
Lord, let them rise in me.

For I have thirsted these long days
while fountains run no more,
and now bone-dry I wait for pain—
Somewhere your waters pour.

Like sentinels await the dawn,
I wait for clouded skies,
for rivers rolling ever on,
for fallen waves to rise,

for creeks to laugh until they weep,
for cataracts to shout.
I know that deep calls out to deep
while I sit here in drought.

But you, who closed in doors the sea,
set hills not to be moved,
if you have closed these doors in me,
Lord, let me call it good.

Is this the fasting that you wish?
Not to my name but yours 
be all the glory, even if
the waters never pour.

Niagara Falls, from the American Side (Frederic Edwin Church, 1867) – qQE5jAFm16XHjQ at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21865696

Matthew, the Tax Collector

As Jesus passed by,
he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post.
He said to him, “Follow me.”
And he got up and followed him.
While he was at table in his house,
many tax collectors and sinners came
and sat with Jesus and his disciples.
The Pharisees saw this and said to his disciples,
“Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”
He heard this and said,
“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do.
Go and learn the meaning of the words,
I desire mercy, not sacrifice.
I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

—Matthew 9:9-13

What could the prophet want of me?
I speak with Caesar's voice
and eat my meals with hands unclean
from counting out his coins.
But Jesus passed me at my post,
and that was all he said—
just “Follow me,” and I was lost,
and now he shares my bread.

The holy men who spit at me
are gathered at my door
to sneer and crane their necks to see
and judge the wine I pour,
but he has thanked me for the wine
and he has blessed my bread,
and for perhaps the only time
I finally am fed.

I wept to hear his voice in prayer—
I was forgiven then,
and I would follow anywhere
to taste this joy again.
So let the righteous turn away;
they have their sacrifice.
We who have eaten well today
have seen and known the Christ.

The Calling of Saint Matthew, 1599–1600, Caravaggio By Caravaggio – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219497

Apple

“Do you see this woman?
When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet,
but she has bathed them with her tears
and wiped them with her hair.
You did not give me a kiss,
but she has not ceased kissing my feet since the time I entered.
You did not anoint my head with oil,
but she anointed my feet with ointment.
So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven;
hence, she has shown great love.
But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”
—Luke 7:36-50

The righteous men refused to eat the apple—
their eyes were never opened to their sin.
They never got down in the mud to grapple
with all the filth that comes out from within.

But she has tasted, and she knows its flavor:
The skin was red and firm beneath her touch,
and it was sweet—the sweetest—so she savored,
and well she knows she is forgiven much.

Then why should she withhold the alabaster?
No, let her perfumed prayer like incense rise,
and let them stare, though none will dare to ask her
what is it draws this torrent from her eyes?

They sit at feast, yet they have tasted nothing
except their scorn to see her at his feet,
but she is sated with her Lord's anointing,
for here is something more than apples sweet

and only they who taste and they who hunger
will one day know the pleasure of that feast,
when he who came to seek them in the mud here
bows down himself to wash their dirty feet.

The Ointment of the Magdalene (Le parfum de Madeleine). James Tissot, c. 1900 – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2007, 00.159.214_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10957535