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

Thorns

That I, Paul, might not become too elated,
because of the abundance of the revelations,
a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan,
to beat me, to keep me from being too elated.
Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me,
but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is made perfect in weakness.”
I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses,
in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.
Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults,
hardships, persecutions, and constraints,
for the sake of Christ;
for when I am weak, then I am strong.
—2 Corinthians 12:7-10

What if the wounds are not like yours,
not scourges, nails, and crown of thorns,
not arrows shot by someone else,
but thorns that grow within my flesh?

Not persecution for your name,
but merely weakness, merely shame?
Can even these poor piercings be
like yours in somehow saving me?

For, Shepherd, see my fleece stained red
from thorns I grow and cannot shed.
Is there still mercy you can grant
if I cannot uproot their plant?

Not by a strength of arm or sword
or show of might were you made Lord,
but riding on an ass and meek
you conquered death when you were weak.

Then let my weakness be as yours
that fell and trampled down death's doors.
Let me accept this death itself
that grows within my very flesh.

Not my strength, then, but yours shall raise
this weak and wounded lamb to grace.
Sufficient is your grace, your love.
My Lord, my God, it is enough.

Barbed branch of wild blackberry (Rubus fruticosus) in Norrkila, Lysekil Municipality, Sweden. By W.carter – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=107504307

Shadows Yet Unseen

Entered in a contest; did not win. To the tune CONDITOR ALME SIDERUM (“Creator of the Stars of Night”):

Creator of the stars of night
and of the sunbeam daily bright,
of every glint and grade between,
all the shadows yet unseen,

we praise you for the light of day,
for colors bright and shades of gray.
We praise you for each shining star
and all the darknesses there are.

Beyond all colors though you dwell,
each one some hint of you can tell.
Teach us to read the mystery
in every glimmer that we see.

And when all vision falls behind,
still more your glories we shall find
where all our words to silence fall,
for we could never name them all.

Yet here and now your mercy's this:
You show yourself in all that is.
This wondrous multiplicity
is one in your infinity.

Praise God dividing night from day,
and God who on the waters played,
and God who in creation dwells,
more praise than we can ever tell!

The image is from the European Space Agency. It is listed as the LH 95 star forming region of the Large Magellanic Cloud. The image was taken using the Hubble Space Telescope. By ESA/Hubble, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8788068

Beatitude

Beatitudes, on the Fourth of July:

O, bless the poor in spirit, Lord,
with kingdoms at their feet,
and bless all who are simply poor:
Lay out for them your feast.

Bless, too, the hands that are not full,
who hunger and who thirst:
For them, let justice' waters roll
and every dam be burst.

And bless all those who mourn and weep:
Pour comforts in their hands.
And bless the humble and the meek:
Give them, at last, the land,

for we have had the rich and great,
and well we know their might,
but now the hour is getting late
and swiftly goes the light.

Give us the kingdom that we need
on earth as 'tis in heav'n.
Help us forgive—O, set us free!—
that we may be forgiv'n.

So teach us to be merciful
that we may mercy know,
to make the kingdom peaceable
and see you ever close. Amen.

Église Saint Aloyse béatitude 1 Photo By Sicarov – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=149373090

Baking

Though it's little, take and bless it,
all I offer you, O Lord,
since my hands would now be empty
had not goodness overflowed.
From the sun you made and lifted
all the world is warmed and fed,
and the grain you first had given
has become my daily bread.

I am dust, but you have seen me;
you have filled my hands with flour.
In the mixing and the kneading
I am copying your power,
for you kneaded us and made us
from the rich and fertile soil.
God, the bread that I am baking
carries your creation's joy.

It is little, almost nothing,
but what else could little give?
Yet it bears the weight of loving:
Gracious Lord, receive my gift.
By your gifts alone I've made it,
seed and sunlight, rain and earth.
Take this little; bless and break it
for the feeding of the world.

Woman baking bread (c. 2200 BC); Louvre By Rama, CC BY-SA 3.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69938567

Arise

She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd
and touched his cloak.
She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.”
Immediately her flow of blood dried up….
So he went in and said to them,
“Why this commotion and weeping?
The child is not dead but asleep.”
And they ridiculed him.
Then he put them all out.
He took along the child’s father and mother
and those who were with him
and entered the room where the child was.
He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,”
which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!”
—Mark 5:21-43

O Savior, see us children
beseech you on our knees
for all our kith and kindred,
for all who mourn and weep.
You made us to be with you,
provided for our needs,
and shaped us in your image—
Lord, how your image bleeds!

Our hands are lifted toward you,
our souls cast down to death.
Let our prayers come before you
with each heart-wrung “Amen”—
not far, for you come toward us,
God-with-us without end.
Oh, may we reach out for you
and touch your muddy hem!

For you have seen our sorrow—
our tears have filled your eyes—
and we have felt your power
that fills our wounded lives.
We still will fall tomorrow:
Do not leave us to lie,
but say once more and always,
“O little one, arise!”

Ottheinrich Folio052r Mc5B By Unknown (Markusmaler or Martinus Opifex) – Ottheinrich-Bibel, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cgm 8010, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14729867

Shield

Based on Psalm 144:

Though I will pass like shadow,
leave nothing when I go,
you train my hands for battle,
my fingers for the bow.

When enemies surround me,
O Lord, come down to me
like fire upon the mountains,
like lightning on the sea.

Without you, I am helpless
at home or in the field,
but you have been my refuge
and you will be my shield.

Then in the press come guide me,
lest in the depths I drown.
If you will stand beside me
I fear not to go down.

The poor will have your justice,
as sure as birds have wings;
you give bread to the hungry
and victory to kings.

Give me, O God, my freedom
and give to me your light.
A new song I will sing you
who trained me for this fight.

Iron Age bronze shield, known as the Battersea Shield By BabelStone, 21 August 2010, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11607584

Loaf

A single grain of wheat alone
cannot a loaf become,
but all that grew as Christ had sown
are gathered into one.
Though each is threshed by different means,
their chaff is cast away
and, gathered first or lately gleaned,
they join the harvest day.

So wide and winding is the field
where Christ has cast the seeds,
that patiently he waits their yield
who will not pluck the weeds.
But weeds and wheat together grow
that not a grain be lost,
and which is which he only knows
who bought them at his cost.

Though we are ground down day by day
as wheat is turned to flour,
yet Christ who loves each seed and grain
is with us every hour.
He gathers us to make his bread
from every seed he sows.
If one is lost, the loaf is less:
He will not let us go.

Woman baking bread (c. 2200 BC); Louvre By Rama, CC BY-SA 3.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69938567

Who?

On that day, as evening drew on, Jesus said to his disciples:
“Let us cross to the other side.”
Leaving the crowd, they took Jesus with them in the boat just as he was.
And other boats were with him.
A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat,
so that it was already filling up.
Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion.
They woke him and said to him,
“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
He woke up,
rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Quiet! Be still!”
The wind ceased and there was great calm.
Then he asked them, “Why are you terrified?
Do you not yet have faith?”
They were filled with great awe and said to one another,
“Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?”
—Mark 4:35-41

Who is this that we follow
with no place to lay his head?
All other words seem hollow
when we think of what he's said.
We bring our little to him:
from it, all of us are filled.
And when the storm is brewing,
thenhe bids the winds be stilled.

We worry for tomorrow,
but he tells us of the birds.
We tell him of our sorrow
and he heals where we are hurt.
He fills our hands and baskets
from the crumbs we brought to eat.
We batten down the hatches,
and he calms the raging sea.

Who is he then, this Jesus,
but the Christ, the Son of God,
and still a human being
though he loves as we could not?
So we could not reach heaven,
'til he climbed into our boat
to sail with us forever
through the calm and through the storm.

Pieter Stalpaert – Christ sleeping during the storm – Private collection, Berlin, Germany, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1775811