Manna

“I am the bread of life.
Your ancestors ate the manna in the desert, but they died;
this is the bread that comes down from heaven
so that one may eat it and not die.
I am the living bread that came down from heaven;
whoever eats this bread will live forever;
and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”
—John 6:41-51

You sank your fingers in the earth
to dredge the furrows of our birth
and planted first a garden there
with seeds you made, all good to bear.

All times and seasons you have set
to plow and plant, to reap and rest.
You turn the earth and send it rain,
and you yourself prepare the grain.

So all we harvest is your gift:
You fill the empty hands we lift;
you fill the earth to stir the seed;
you fill us, too, who see our need.

Not earth's alone, but heaven's bread
you give us, Lord, and we are fed.
As every day we eat and live,
our life is in the bread you give.

You are yourself the bread of life,
and those who eat will never die,
no more as seeds to fall and sleep
but evermore your feast to keep.

Though still we hunger, knowing this
our daily bread a foretaste is.
You grow and bless; we take and eat,
and every bite is manna sweet.

Albert Samuel Anker – Still-Life with Coffee, Bread and Potatoes By Albert Anker – http://www.sightswithin.com/Search/albert%20anker/Page_2/, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=37060415

Peaches

The blessings of the Lord will come
as peaches weighing down the boughs
and bushels overwhelmed with plums
in summer days without a cloud,

as sweet as cherries on the stem
whose taste you long for all the year—
You feast on shadows until then
and wait while ripening time draws near,

remembering how the juices run
down chins, and lips and tongues drip joy
enough and more for everyone
in song and summer's feast employed.

That memory in you is wine.
Like summer rain, let it pour down,
distilled from every branch and vine.
You need not turn the world around.

The light will lengthen, fruit grow ripe,
and feast be spread beneath the trees
in days that know no hint of strife,
in peace beside the restful stream.

Though you are winter, spring will come.
Though you are barren, peaches grow.
The Lord will fill your hands with plums
in feasts beyond all you have known.

Still Life with Peaches and Yellow Pot By Pierre Bonnard – https://www.the-athenaeum.org/art/detail.php?ID=139492, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70363945

Peter on Tabor

Then Peter said to Jesus in reply,
“Rabbi, it is good that we are here!
Let us make three tents:
one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
He hardly knew what to say, they were so terrified.
Then a cloud came, casting a shadow over them;
from the cloud came a voice,
“This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.”
—Mark 9:2-10

'Tis good, Lord, to be here,
to see with my own eyes
yourself, O Rabbi, dazzling clear
against the cloud-dark skies.

Oh!  Let me build a shrine—
let me forever stay
here where I see your glory shine,
here in eternal day.

Take not the downward road—
I'm clinging to the height!
Down in the valley, shadows grow—
Why must you hide the light?

Better to stay up here—
Oh, but they call you down,
down to the wounds that must be healed,
the lost that must be found.

If you must, so must I—
you're my beloved, too.
Where you go, I go—live or die,
I still will follow you—

and where you stand, I'll stand,
someday to stand in joy,
for you are my true promised land;
you are my still, small voice.

Then let us go, my Lord,
down to Jersusalem.
I know you will show me light once more
in your endless day.  Amen.

Transfiguration of Jesus By Raphael – Downloaded from Artist Hideout, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=379381

Hunger

So they said to him,
“Sir, give us this bread always.”
Jesus said to them,
“I am the bread of life;
whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”
–John 6:24-35

I believe, but still I hunger;
Lord, I trust you and I thirst
as if all we have are crumbs here
in the desert of our hurt.
There are days that have no comfort,
nights when all is at its worst,
and we long for signs and wonders,
manna scattered on the dirt.

Bread of life, true bread from heaven,
every day I eat my fill
yet I wake each morning empty,
hunger crying for you still.
Let me take the bread you give me,
take the cup where mercy spills;
let it tell me of forgiveness,
that my cries shall yet be stilled.

For the bread is you, O Savior:
We will eat and we will live,
and the wine we are partaking
is your life upon our lips.
Though I rise again unsated,
let me kneel today for this:
heaven's feast of your own making
that some day shall be my bliss.

The Gathering of the Manna by James Tissot – https://thejewishmuseum.org/collection/26365-the-gathering-of-the-manna, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8849141

All & Sundry

I bring my all and sundry,
O God, to worship you,
but all of me is nothing
and fades away as dew.
How can I taste these wonders
with naught to offer you?
I leave the table hungry
and hide me from your view.

For some have brought you silver,
and some have brought you gold,
a flame to smelt the impure
and melt the heart that's cold,
or notes of horns and cymbals
to stir the brave and bold,
or they have brought you simply
your own love, ages old.

But all my love is feeble
and withers ere it starts,
as all my songs are greedy,
to ply you with my art.
Yet, Lord, you love the needy,
the shattered, and the scarred:
Then shall I let you see me,
my weak and worthless heart?

So if you want it, take it
for any good you'll get.
Oh, I would give you greatness
if I had any yet.
Here I lay on your table
the little I possess:
Take what the days are breaking
and turn it to your bread.

Gold Solidus of Roman Emperor Valentinian II By Photographed by: York Museums Trust Staff – This file originated on the York Museums Trust Online Collection. YMT hosted a GLAMwiki partnership in 2013/14.This tag does not indicate the copyright status of the attached work. A normal copyright tag is still required. See Commons:Licensing., CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=38984357

Good Ground

And he spoke to them at length in parables, saying:
“A sower went out to sow.
And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path,
and birds came and ate it up.
Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil.
It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep,
and when the sun rose it was scorched,
and it withered for lack of roots.
Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it.
But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit,
a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.
Whoever has ears ought to hear.”
—Matthew 13: 1-9

As if the sower scatters blind
on rocks and brambles he can't see—
or as he gives the ground its time
to show what it will come to be.

The dirt road where the birds swoop down,
that verges on an empty field,
still has its cracks where seeds can sprout,
and God alone knows what it yields.

The field beside it springing green:
Who knows how deep its richness runs?
The flowers each new morning brings
tomorrow wither in the sun.

And everywhere the hidden thorns
whose roots and runner choke new life,
whose tendrils crown each seedling born
with daily care and daily strife.

But you are not content to plow
the tended earth in lines and rows:
You seek the lost, farflung good ground,
and where you find it, there you sow.

Then cast your harvest in my soul,
O Christ the sower wasting seeds.
O spendthrift, foolish prodigal,
grow all the good there is in me.

Dirt road in Fremont, California DCIM\100GOPRO By Benefactor123 – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21865562

What Good?

When Jesus raised his eyes
and saw that a large crowd was coming to him,
he said to Philip,
“Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?”
He said this to test him,
because he himself knew what he was going to do.
Philip answered him,
“Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough
for each of them to have a little.”
One of his disciples,
Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to him,
“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish;
but what good are these for so many?”
—John 6:1-15

To the tune FINLANDIA:

What good is this, the little I can offer?
All I can give, O God, is just myself:
This heart fails love; this body breaks and suffers;
this mind sees not, turned inward on itself.
As nothing worth, this pittance that I proffer,
as these few loaves and fish you take and bless.

As once you took the mud that I am made of
and clothed yourself in human littleness.
You laid it out as bread for us to savor,
poured out as wine, salvation on our lips.
They were so small—five wounds that pierced two natures—
how can you feed a multitude with this?

Yet it is so, O bread come down from heaven:
You took our life and clothed yourself in dust,
yet not our sin; untainted by our leaven,
poured yourself out to fill the blessing cup
that we might drink and live and be forgiven.
Our weaknesses transformed into your love.

Then take these gifts that in my hands are nothing.
Take for your own my heart and mind and strength.
If you transform them to a wondrous something,
let it be so, for you can do all things.
Or leave me still my self as you'd begun it:
It is still good, and yours in every length.

The feeding of the five thousand; Christ blessing fishes in left background; the apostles with large baskets in foreground; illustration to William of Auvergne, ‘Postilla super Epistolas et Evangelia’, Basel; Michael Furter, 1511. 1511 Woodcut By Print made by: Urs Graf – https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/P_1927-0614-125, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=89886988

Lion’s Mouth: Psalm 10

A sort-of paraphrase of Psalm 10:

The wicked shut their hungry mouths
to sink their teeth into the poor,
who lift up hands and cry aloud,
Where are you now, O Lord?

The proud have said, There is no God—
and true, for them it's just as well
to think they never will be caught
between the teeth of hell—

but you have not forgotten them,
all these downtrodden of the land.
You see their misery and pain
and take it in your hands.

You lift your voice when theirs cry out.
For this you joined them in the dust:
to walk into the lion's mouth
and let its jaws snap shut.

And those who eat the poor like bread
will bite off more than they can chew,
for you will break the jaws of death
and let the poor pass through.

O Lord, choke all who feast on men,
and then restore them with a touch
that they may join the Great Amen,
as all broken by love.

Deir el-Bahari complex By Aligatorek – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4484923

Song of Magdalene

The Bride says:
On my bed at night I sought him
whom my heart loves–
I sought him but I did not find him.
I will rise then and go about the city;
in the streets and crossings I will seek
Him whom my heart loves.
I sought him but I did not find him.
The watchmen came upon me,
as they made their rounds of the city:
Have you seen him whom my heart loves?
I had hardly left them
when I found him whom my heart loves.
—Song of Songs 3:1-4B

My dove, in the cleft of the rock
they have laid you, my beautiful one.
My hands dripping myrrh, I have come
to anoint the beloved I've lost.

I weep, but the tears cannot quench
the fire that you set in my heart.
You death may have torn us apart,
but love is far stronger than death.

I laid myself down at your feet,
you breath incense rising like smoke.
I breathed in the haze as you spoke,
the words of your mouth honey sweet,

your eyes like the wide-open gates
of Zion, the mother of all,
your arms stretching out like the wall—
and now they have ta'en you away.

I rose from my bed and I sought,
but saw not an end to my fears.
The watchman, he found me in tears:
“Have you seen the one my soul wants?”

And there was my name on his lips.
The winter is over and past,
the wine of my blood flowing fast.
My love is my own; I am his.

Noli me tangere by Titian c. 1511–1515 By Titian – http://www.kunstbilder-galerie.de, Noli me tangere’ von Tizian, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4275990

Scattered Flock

For today’s readings on bad shepherds, the Good Shepherd, and the 23rd Psalm:

Good Shepherd, we have scattered in our fear,
and, troubled by our shadows now, we balk.
Come find us in the wilds and draw us near
and gather us again into your flock.

Worn out, for every step we took was wrong,
we hunger for the pastures of your rest.
Our weary hearts have thirsted for so long:
Oh, lead us to the waters that refresh!

Lord, spread your table near our enemies,
and make it long, for we ourselves are foes,
then bid us all sit down with you and feast
on broken bread, and wine that overflows.

And when the meal is finished, lead us out
forever in the pathways of your peace,
the road that winds at last up to your home.
Let love and mercy follow at our feet.

Then even in the valley of our death,
though once we fled we will no longer fear,
for you are with us, every pulse and breath.
Our Shepherd, you will stay forever near.

Woodcut of Christ carrying the Lamb, illustration from the prayerbook of Martin Luther By Sebald Beham – British Museum, [1], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=32907633