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

We Give You Thanks

For the mercies of the morning
stretching out into the day;
for the sunset westward falling
and the evening on its way;
for the stillness of the midnight;
for the ever-changing moon;
for the breaking of the dawnlight
and the morning coming soon,
	O God, we give you thanks.

For the planting and the growing;
for the sunlight and the rain;
for the sprouting and the growing
and the harvest of the grain
making gifts your people bring you;
for the table that you spread;
for the feasting in the kingdom
where your children all are fed,
	O God we give you thanks.

For the hungry and the thirsty;
for the captive and the free;
for the blind man crying “Mercy!”
saying, “Lord, I want to see”;
for the ones who are forgiving
as they, too, have been forgiv'n;
for the dead and for the living;
for the sinners welcomed in,
	O God, we give you thanks.

For the graces as we gather
and the bounty that we bless;
for the seasons and the sabbaths
and the sweetnesses of rest;
for the goodness of our labors;
for the fruits of earth and vine;
for the strangers now made neighbors
as we share the bread and wine,
	O God, we give you thanks.

Poster of cornucopia for California By http://www.library.ca.gov/calhist/images/big/cornucopia.gif, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=751696

A King Who Leads No Armies

Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world.
If my kingdom did belong to this world,
my attendants would be fighting
to keep me from being handed over to the Jews.
But as it is, my kingdom is not here.”
—John 18:33b-37

He comes, a thief in darkness,
the king who tells no lies,
as tender as we're hardened;
his truth shall fill the skies.

He comes, the sun of justice
to right our wrongful ways.
He comes, the one who loves us.
He comes to buy the slaves

and seat them over princes,
above the highest lords,
to judge and save us sinners,
and he shall be adored.

He once before came helpless 
upon the earth he moves—
almighty God defenseless,
a lamb to save the wolves.

He comes now to disarm us
of whips and nails and thorns;
a king who leads no armies
tills gardens with our swords.

He comes to heal the broken;
he comes to break the chains,
and all the world waits for him—
Come, Lord, do not delay!

St. Catherine’s Monastery, Mount Sinai, Egypt, Photo By carulmare – https://www.flickr.com/photos/8545333@N07/4124982761/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30366875

When You Return

When you return, O God,
O brighter than our sun,
to reckon all our rights and wrong,
our done and left undone,

there at the end of time
when at your feet I stand,
oh, take the oceans of my crimes
and pour them through your hands.

The words I should not say,
the swords I should not wield,
pour in and let them drain away
through mercy's wounds unhealed.

For I am sunk in them
who cannot walk their waves.
They seep out through your innocence
'til all that's left is grace.

As deep as I have drowned,
raise me and let me stand.
The millstone ropes at last unwound,
let me rest on dry land.

And see: My sins are gone
and you alone remain.
Now fill me with the light of dawn
and make me new again!

Gospel Book, Second Coming of Christ, Walters Manuscript W.540, fol. 14v. This manuscript was executed in 1475 by a scribe identified as Aristakes, for a priest named Hakob. It contains a series of 16 images on the life of Christ preceding the text of the gospels, as well as the traditional evangelist portraits, and there are marginal illustrations throughout. The style of the miniatures, which employ brilliant colors and emphasize decorative patterns, is characteristic of manuscript production in the region around Lake Van during the 15th century. By Walters Art Museum Illuminated Manuscripts – https://www.flickr.com/photos/39699193@N03/8509826031/, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=76790938

Seat of Grace

Brothers and sisters:
Since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens,
Jesus, the Son of God,
let us hold fast to our confession.
For we do not have a high priest
who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses,
but one who has similarly been tested in every way,
yet without sin.
So let us confidently approach the throne of grace
to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.
—Hebrews 4:14-16

When you appear before us
and all has been made known,
shall we approach your glory
and kneel before your throne?
So now while you are hidden
we still seek out your face;
we know you welcome sinners
there at the seat of grace.

No kings sit at your right hand,
no princes at your left:
The throng who in your sight stand
were servants of the rest.
And you, O Lord, uphold them—
so we would be upheld.
Until we can behold you,
grant us your timely help!

To love you in our service,
and love our neighbor, too,
to know the gift of mercy—
and always to know you.
So we bring all our weakness,
our sorrow, and our sin
and seek our great high priest here:
O, bid us enter in!

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

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