Tongues

For Pentecost:

As a body is one though it has many parts,
and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body,
so also Christ.
For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body,
whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons,
and we were all given to drink of one Spirit.
—1 Corinthians 12:12-13

There is no language in the world
where it cannot be said,
no speech in which it can't be heard:
the hope beyond our death.
In every tongue we find the words,
in everyone the breath.
In all of them, Christ came to serve
and share the broken bread.

There is no barrier in him
to Parthian or Mede;
no man or woman's light is dimmed;
in him, all slaves are freed.
The body might deny its limbs,
but he has washed those feet
and poured himself out for our sins
who bids us sit and eat.

As one we come before him now
with all our grace and fault,
as one bring every gift and doubt
in answer to his call.
Our shepherd will not cast us out
when he is all in all,
who sends the Spirit in its hour
as tongues of fire fall.

The Pentecost depicted in a 14th-century Missal By Unknown author – National Library of Wales, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44768060

Thistles

Cast out from our parents' garden,
poured our sweat into the soil:
Thorns and thistles for a harvest,
little for so great a toil.
Yet, O Lord, will you accept it
when we bring our sacrifice?
Will you, can you, take and bless it
if we have no greater tithe?

What you spoke at our beginning
when you took the formless world,
molded, shaped it, set it spinning,
called its dusks and dawnings good,
does that word still echo for us
though our shaping comes to naught?
Does that goodness still enfold us
if our harvest goes to rot?

Messy, naked, hungry, empty
we come from our mothers' wombs;
we will go forth in the same way
to the silence of our tombs.
Only you can fill these hands, Lord,
with the gifts you'd have us bring.
Take our nakedness and failure:
Let it be our offering.

Planta de cardo en flor, en una vereda de Montevideo By Fadesga – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=144819271

Guide

Where is the one who divided the waters before them—

winning for himself an everlasting renown—

Who guided them through the depths,

like horses in open country?

As cattle going down into the valley,

they did not stumble.
—Isaiah 63:12-14

You led your people through the waves,
your children through the depths
like horses on the open plain
who run for joy itself.
Then lead me as your led the herd—
oh, let me stumble not!—
by light and dark, by breath and word,
through death to life, O God!

And when you lead me through the depths
and chasms of my fear,
not only lead but draw my steps
and walk forever near,
that in the night of my abyss
I shall not want for light,
but as in all things so in this,
I find you still my guide.

So if I cannot see the way,
your mercy's flame still burns.
Though I am dark, yet there is day,
and always it returns.
I trust these dark and fearsome deeps 
are open to your sight,
then if you will my journey keep,
I'll run on through the night.

Wild Horses on the Range By Bureau of Land Management – http://www.wildhorseandburro.blm.gov/photo_gallery/photo81.htm, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4746172

Ascending

So then the Lord Jesus, after he spoke to them,
was taken up into heaven
and took his seat at the right hand of God.
But they went forth and preached everywhere,
while the Lord worked with them
and confirmed the word through accompanying signs.
—Mark 16:15-20

The Son of God, who for our healing fell,
once lifted up, islifted up again,
who sank and rose up from the depths of hell;
the one who came from heav'n to heav'n ascends.

But all the world is different in his wake:
The light from light that could not be put out
shines brighter now in every candle flame;
our hearts still burn with fire no tears can douse.

For death has been undone, and night is bright,
and little loaves a hungry world can fill.
Though heav'n on earth is hidden from our sight,
yet heav'n is here, for he is with us still.

Now we descend, who watched him going up;
now we can take the downward running road
and eat the bread and drink the selfsame cup
and die and rise and follow still our Lord.

Ascension of Christ and Noli me tangere, c. 400, ivory, Milan or Rome, now in Munich. Photo: Andreas Praefcke – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3576630

Lights

The candle flares and flickers;
the bright sun wheels and sets;
the torchlight leaps and shivers;
the coals bank, glowing red:
These dying flames and living
are shadows swiftly sped,
for Christ our light is risen
and death itself is dead.

And all these lights had promised
though fading from our view,
each burning match and star spark
said morning comes anew.
These hopes that shone in darkness
are hopes no more, are true,
for Christ our death has conquered
and shines out of the tomb.

Now day will have no ending
and night is luminous.
All lights that light foretelling
are no less glorious:
They shine out and we bless them
for still reminding us
that Christ, alive forever,
is shining in our dust.

Taper candles in a church. By Andrew Shiva / Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=52308084

Mansions

In the valley of the shadow
we have learned to make our homes,
building with the wood we have here
on the ashes of what's gone.
We have trembled with its passions;
we have goosestepped to its drums:
How will we inhabit mansions
when the peaceful kingdom comes?

Oh, but you have set a table
where the foe looks on the foe,
where the air still rings with anger
and the ground is filled with bones.
There you take the bread of anguish,
sorrow's wine that overflows,
and you turn it into manna,
and you make this vale your home.

Lord, we know thw day is coming
when the earth and sky will blaze,
when the armies stop their drumming
and our grief at last will fade.
With this manna, sweet as honey,
teach us how to live that day;
breaking bread, we hold your promise:
Death will not steal all away.

Bread with crust crack (half left at the top) By Rainer Zenz – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=597239

New Commandment

Jesus said to his disciples:
“As the Father loves me, so I also love you.
Remain in my love.
If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love,
just as I have kept my Father’s commandments
and remain in his love.
I have told you this so that my joy may be in you
and your joy might be complete.
This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.
No one has greater love than this,
to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
You are my friends if you do what I command you.

—John 15:9-17

Lord, you gave a new commandment,
laid your life down for your friends.
All our questions had one answer:
Love each other to the end.

Oh, but loving is a labor:
We are willing; we are weak.
In the service of our neighbor,
where, Lord, is the rest we seek?

Shepherd, lead us to still waters
where our hearts may be refreshed.
Shelter all your sons and daughters
as we come to break the bread.

There you lay your yoke upon us.
When we make our sacrifice
for the ones you put before us,
we will find the burden light.

We will find in you our comfort
as we labor in your name,
for you work with us, our brother,
that our loves may be the same.

When we turn to serve each other,
filling hands and washing feet,
when we love as you have loved us,
then our joy will be complete.

Tacuina sanitatis (XIV century) 5-alimenti, acqua calda,Taccuino Sanitatis, Casanatense 418 By unknown master – book scan, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1638829

Bruised Reed

The bruised reed broke off in your hand;
the dimly burning light blew out
that in the storm wind could not stand
and could not raise a joyful shout.

Not only broken: hollowed, carved,
the marrow scraped out of the bone,
the reed you make a flute, O God,
to sound a clear and piercing note.

So you will take the guttered wick
and gather up the grime, the soot,
to write your word in darkest ink—
the vanished flame still shows your truth.

For this, O glory of the Lord,
you came, a reed, to break with us.
You doused your flame, shone out no more,
to swirl your soot into our dust.

Write it in my most distant parts—
though broken, they are not cut off;
though doused, the light burns in my heart.
I still am gathered in your love.

Creator: R. Welch (Photographer) Date: c.1914 Original Format: Photographic Print Description: Meadow Reed Grass on the banks of the Boyne, County Kildare. PRONI Ref: D1403_2~068~A By Public Record Office of Northern Ireland – https://www.flickr.com/photos/proni/13716765545/, No restrictions, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42300357

As If

As if the calla filled with rain
and dripped it from the rim:
a good too great to be contained
that overruns the brim.

As if the sky of midnight stars
pooled in the eastern hills
and spilled itself across the dark
when morning's bowl was filled.

Or if the beating of the heart
kept every music's time
and nothing could be sung apart
from that internal rhyme.

The fractals in a grain of sand
or feathers of a bird,
the riverbeds that cross the hand—
so fragile and absurd—

run over with the infinite,
and wonder lays its weight
upon the ones who swim in it
and bow before its face.

We cast our eyes demurely down
and find more witness there.
Magnanimous, the dusty ground
holds us in marvel's care.

Headstone from Arnos Vale Cemetery with a lily carved on it By BristolIcarus – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59525140

Not Enough

I give you all I have, O Lord,
the wine that filled my cup,
the dregs beyond the drops I poured—
but it was not enough.

I give you all that I can be,
the stuff I'm knitted of,
unravelled all the threads of me—
but it was not enough.

Enough to make a good return
for all that you have done.
The world, the flesh, the devil spurned—
but it was not enough.

I broke my heart, give you the bits,
the shards of all my love,
for there is nothing left but this.

O child, there never was.

Birdoswald roman fort on Hadrian’s Wall. “This case shows something of the range of pottery used by the Roman soldiers whilst serving on Hadrian’s Wall. Different types of pot had different uses in the same way that we have metal pans, ceramic plates and china mugs. Like today, the army in the Roman period had military contracts with certain suppliers. Some pottery manufacturers in Britain took advantage of this system and would have made large profits.” By Photograph by Mike Peel (www.mikepeel.net)., CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=33765158