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

Vine

As Eve and Adam ate and fell,
all swallowed by the gates of death,
their children in its shadow dwell:
The teeth of hell are locked and clenched.

Woe for the fruit that passed our lips!
Oh, that we would have kept our fast!
What would we give for one small sip
of Eden's streams—but they are past.

So we become the meat and drink
that gluts the hungry maw of death
yet never fills it to the brink.
If it could, death would swallow heav'n.

O Christ, whose fall was marked by ours,
you came to be death's bread and wine.
It swallowed you down, soul and scars,
and up you sprouted like a vine.

Around the gateposts then you wound,
your living bursting from the dead.
The gates of hell came crashing down,
and death was choked by wine and bread.

Out of the garden, you, firstfruits,
took Eve and Adam from the ground,
not broken reeds but living shoots,
and brought them where the sun shines out.

Now Christ the sower, Christ the seed,
you bear us on your upward climb
to where the harvest ever feeds
on heaven's living bread and wine.

Convolvulus vine twining around a steel fixed ladder By Namazu-tron – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7282183

Waves

I was not there to watch you shut
the sea within its doors,
to see you lift the mountains up
and bind the earth with shores,
but I have seen the ocean swells
rise up and break and fall,
that something of your mercy tells
beneath the gull's wild call.

For we are past the solstice now,
and summer's hold must break
though cruelty will have its hour
and Pharaoh holds his sway.
They rise and grow; they crash and sink
like waves upon the shore.
There is a time for everything—
so peace will come once more.

You set the limits of the sea
and you can part its waves,
just as you set the pris'ners free
and open up our graves.
You cast the mighty from their thrones
to crash upon the sands:
Though now we walk through waves unknown,
we still are in your hands.

Breaking wave in Porto Covo, Portugal By Alvesgaspar – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36434062

Morsel

Riffing on Psalm 139 and food:

Lord, you search me, plumb me down to atoms,
dive into me, know the deepest fathoms.
Every moment, resting, reaping, rising,
every thought before my heart's devising,
every step is known ere I begin it.
Every breath I take, you are within it.

I could run, but I would not escape you;
shut the door, but still your light would break through.
I could climb a ladder to the heavens:
You would be on every rung ascending.
Though I turn and leave you far behind me,
even in the depths of hell you'd find me.

You know what I do before I will it,
know my every need—then, Lord, come fill it.
See my hands are lying empty, open;
see them take the bread this world has broken.
You, who even at the farthest shores dwell,
come be present in the smallest morsel.

Bless the gifts of rain and sun and labor;
bless me; make me kith and kin and neighbor.
We all know the taste of hope and hunger:
You know all of us, above and under,
everywhere we run, to west and easting.
Bring us all, then, safe into your feasting.

Hands at the Cuevas de las Manos upon Río Pinturas, near the town of Perito Moreno in Santa Cruz Province, Argentina. Picture By Mariano – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=265811

Peace

Combining Psalm 85 and Mark 6:

The place where truth and kindness meet
and justice joins itself to peace,
where truth springs up and right rains down,
is in your body, pierced and crowned.

For you made the divided one;
all earth and heaven in you join.
In you, O Lord, our peace is made.
Help us in making peace today.

With walking stick and sandal-shod,
we go to seek the reign of God.
Our money will not pave the road,
so free our shoulders from that load.

O Shepherd, lead us on the way
and give us words to tell your praise.
Give us still more the grace of tears
to name our weaknesses and fears.

And give us mercy over all:
Forgive us as we fail and fall,
then lift us, ever lift us up
to drink again the saving cup.

You are the way; you are the road,
but we have still so far to go.
Help us to choose the better part
and draw yet closer to your heart

for there alone does justice meet
and kiss its sister, truest peace.
Lord, show us mercy once again,
and grant salvation's sweet Amen.

Justitia et pax – Brescia – Pinacoteca Tosio-Martinengo – 13-4-2002 By anonymous – Own work, Giovanni Dall’Orto, 13-4-2002, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=641316

Isaiah

In the year King Uzziah died,
I saw the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne,
with the train of his garment filling the temple.
Seraphim were stationed above; each of them had six wings:
with two they veiled their faces,
with two they veiled their feet,
and with two they hovered aloft.

—Isaiah 6:1-8

“The earth is filled with glory,”
the hosts of heaven cried,
“Oh, holy, holy, holy!”
in the year Uzziah died.

And oh, the doorframe trembled;
the air filled up with smoke,
for God is in his temple.
The seraphim had spoke!

But I cried out in terror
and I cried out once more
as loud as any seraph,
for I had seen the Lord.

“Depart from me, my savior,
for I am all unclean!”
But came an ember flaming
that burned away my sin.

Then God said, “Who is for us?
What herald shall I send
to sing this glory chorus
to all the earth's far ends?”

And I cried out, “I'm here, Lord!”
And I cried out, “Send me!”
And I went crying forward
to tell what I had seen:

That God is in his temple
and none escape his sight.
But take the flaming ember
and swallow down its light

and fill the earth with glory
from inland to the coast.
Cry “Holy, holy, holy
is God the lord of hosts!”

Isaiah, fresco painted by Michelangelo and his assistants for the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican between 1508 to 1512 – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2776989

Damascus

I'm not going to Damascus;
I won't see a blinding light,
but you'll knock me on my ass yet
for the scales upon my eyes.

I'll be sitting by the roadside
like a beggar, blind and deaf,
when you've turned my day to soul's night,
shown me I have nothing left.

Though I set your praise resounding,
still I haven't got my sight.
O my shepherd, you have found me,
but you cannot leave me blind.

When you take what I hold sacred,
you will tear it all apart.
Write a truer word to save me
on the tablet of my heart.

As my blood runs through the letters
it will fill my ears and eyes.
I will see the whole world better
when you've given me my sight.

Though I'm lost and I have fallen,
though I cannot find my way,
let the light come when you call it.
Let me see your dawning day.

Conversion on the Way to Damascus, Caravaggio (c.1600-1) – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219516

Loaves

All I have is just a little bit of bread;
all I bring you is a couple bites of fish.
This is nothing to the need that must be fed,
but take it, and do with it what you wish.

When you take what I have given, I will sing.
When you break what I have worked for, I will pray.
I will not hold back—I'll bring you everything.
All I have, O God, is only what you gave.

When the little that is mine becomes your own,
like this little bread and wine that you have blessed,
all the miracles in every seed we've sown
they blossom, Lord, and we become your guests.

If you will it, bless the fish and bless the loaves.
Take the crumbled pieces; scatter them like seeds
so to feed our souls and feed our bodies both,
and bless the harvest even from the weeds.

Loaves and fish, painting from the Catacomb of Callixtus. Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=566678