When the Mountains Fall

Based on Psalm 46:

When the mountains cower, quaking,

and the seas rise up in fear,

though the place we stand is shaken,

still we know that you are near.



When the nations rage in turmoil,

and the kingdoms topple down,

when we fight for scraps of empire,

be our sure and solid ground.



You alone have been our refuge

through the turning of the years.

Be our strength, O God, forever;

be the hope beyond our fears.



When the world we built is falling

underneath the weight of sin,

let us hear your city calling;

let your children enter in.



When the night is split with thunder

of the cannons as they roar,

come, O Lord, and work your wonders:

Break the weapons; end the wars.



You alone have been our stronghold;

with your praise our hearts are filled.

You alone shall be exalted.

You are God, and we are still.

Mount Rinjani eruption in 1994, in Lombok, Indonesia By Oliver Spalt, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=86316445

Your Star

For the Feast of Epiphany:

We only saw your star by night,

and journeyed on by day

with nothing but remembered light

to guide us on the way.



And every day as evening fell,

exhausted, to the dust,

we sought the star again to tell

your wonders unto us.



But there were days we could not look,

we could not lift our heads,

and then it was your mercy took

and led our weary steps.



The way was hard, but it was sweet—

though it was roundabout:

You carved it out before our feet

through all our fear and doubt.



But day and night you led us here

to look upon your face,

and all our trials, all our tears

transfigured into grace.



As we take to the road again,

whatever comes, we know

your star led us to Bethlehem

and it will lead us home.

James Tissot: The Magi Journeying (c. 1890), Brooklyn Museum, New York City – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2006, 00.159.30_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195787

Hungered

The Lord, from heaven's vistas,

has cast his eye down low—

uncrossable the distance

except by God alone—



to look upon the lowly

and gather all their tears

to water something holy,

a harvest for the years.



For he who sees the evil

devour his own as bread

has come to spare his people.

He sows himself instead.



A seed within the furrow,

a star within the night,

he shall be bread tomorrow,

the nurture of our life.



The wicked shall devour him

as they consume the poor,

and they will fall down pow'rless,

and death shall be no more.



And all who've ever hungered

at last shall eat their fill,

for Christ grows up among us,

and all shall be made well.

Christ Pantocrator By Unknown author – Unknown source, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5820582

Mary, Mother of God

Includes a detail from Nicholas Love’s Mirror of the Blessed Life of Jesus Christ (as recounted in Grace Hamman’s Jesus Through Medieval Eyes): that Mary took off her kerchief and used it to swaddle the infant Christ.

You took your veil to swaddle him—

no shame before your God

but, Eden-like in Bethlehem,

held him against your heart.



So we, against the winter wind

prideless, defenseless stand.

Oh, wrap us up as you did him

who rested in your hands.



The night is long and bitter cold;

we wait to see his face,

Mary, who did the savior hold,

teach us to feel his grace.



In any warmth that wraps us 'round,

in any comfort's touch,

we hope his mercy may abound

who needed you so much.



And if we cannot feel his love,

then pray we can feel yours,

that earthly love maybe enough

to show us heaven's doors.



Mary, we are your children now,

as helpless as was Christ.

Come swaddle us as in that hour

you cradled paradise.

Madonna Advocata (Hagiosoritissa) aus dem 7. Jahrhundert By Asia – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61627017

Present

When the days were completed for their purification
according to the law of Moses,
they took him up to Jerusalem
to present him to the Lord.
Luke 2:22

It was no mighty deed or work

but simply that he was,

the highest God come down to earth

to share our life with us:



Redeemed by two small turtledoves,

as any other boy,

yet prophets looked on him with love

and spoke of him with joy.



And suddenly, God was not far:

Christ to the temple came.

Not distant as the burning stars,

but near as candle flame.



Not shrouded e'er in fire and smoke,

but swaddled, cradled, near,

his blanket edge untucked and soaked

by an old man's happy tears.



So is creation born again,

so are all things made new,

by a wonder born in Bethlehem

whom prophets longed to view.



So every child bears God's own light

that shines in all there is.

For Christ has come to share our life

that we may share in his.

Prophecies of Simeon. Klosterneuburger Evangelienwerk, fol. 17v. By Unknown author – http://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/de/sbs/0008/17v, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42913070

Needy

Man’s maker was made man, that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother’s breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the Light sleep, the Way be tired on its journey; that the Truth might be accused of false witness, the Teacher be beaten with whips, the Foundation be suspended on wood; that Strength might grow weak; that the Healer might be wounded; that Life might die.
St. Augustine of Hippo

God's only Son begotten,

through whom all things were made,

the light that shines in darkness,

is blind by lantern-flame.



The Word in the beginning,

on Mary's breast he lies,

knows only warmth and milk now,

and wordlessly he cries.



Then come you now to Bethl'em;

make firm your feeble steps:

The love of God unending

is drawing his first breaths.



Come running with the shepherds,

as swift as angel hosts,

for heaven's throne stands empty:

A manger overflows.



And he who fills us hungers;

the living water thirsts.

God's Providence among us

is needy at his birth.



And she who bore him whispers—

the Word hangs on her voice.

This midnight, God is with us.

Come to him and rejoice!

“The Manger”, photograph by Gertrude Käsebier – Camera Notes, Vol 4 No 1, July 1900, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5151764

Christmas

In the waste of our undoing

where we lose all we had known,

even here a rose is blooming

where the barren stump still grows

from the seed death was entombing:

Christ the root and Christ the rose.



In the dark where hope has dwindled,

in the shadows of our shame,

in the hearth a fire is kindled

where the ember knows its name

'til it catches, blazing tinder:

Christ the spark and Christ the flame.



Justice rains down, worlds remaking:

Death shall end and war shall cease.

Truth springs up from mountains quaking,

mercy pours down and they meet.

Doors are opened; chains are breaking:

Christ the justice, Christ the peace.



Christ the word in the beginning

fills the world when he is said.

In his hands, a feast for beggars:

choicest wines and finest bread.

Christ the Alpha, Christ Omega,

Christ the source and Christ the end.

The Greek letters alpha and omega surround the halo of Jesus in the catacombs of Rome from the 4th century Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=509516

Lords of Earth

We watched for hope throughout the night,

as sentinels for dawn,

and saw the sky fill up with light

exploding from their guns.



“All glory to the lords of earth,

who reign from west to east,

and to the new things now in birth—

for we shall be your peace!”



We shepherds all began to run,

to cry out what we'd seen,

to weep for all that had begun,

and all that long had been.



Though gods arise and kings are born,

for us it is the same:

the infants from their mothers torn,

the rubble and the flame.



Not 'til a king is born like us,

smelling the sulphur creep,

seeing the shattered world in dust,

waking from shattered sleep,



not 'til he comes in shit and smoke,

poverty and disease,

not until then will we have hope.

Then we will have our peace.

By Internet Archive Book Images – https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/14741295196/Source book page: https://archive.org/stream/pictorialbibleco00cobb/pictorialbibleco00cobb#page/n634/mode/1up, No restrictions, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42049461

May It Be Done To Me

Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.
May it be done to me according to your word.”
Then the angel departed from her.
Luke 1:26-38

May it be done to me

according to your word,

that what begins in me shall be

the mercy of the Lord.



For I know God has seen,

though high he sits above,

all that I am or I have been,

yet looks on me with love.



In love he lifts me up

and fills my hungry soul

'til I become the flowing cup:

Through me his rivers roll.



These waters still run on

to break through dams and walls

and cast the mighty towers down

and lift the weak and small.



This flood he turns to wine

himself becomes the feast,

shaped from the little that is mine,

to fill our every need.



I am, and still shall be,

the handmaid of my Lord.

I say, may it be done to me

according to your word.

The angel Gabriel’s message to Mary. Altar screen from Fet stave church, Sogn. By Unknown author – Kulturhistoriskt lexikon för nordisk medeltid. Helsingfors 1956, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57525940

Straw

I don't know what to write anymore.

The year draws dully to its close,

and I am blank and bled and sore,

sans joy, sans hopes.



Where is the breaking dawn on high?

Where is the burst of heavenly light?

Here, I am only empty sighs,

not glad, not bright.



I am the empty manger, Lord;

everything eaten, all devoured,

shamed that I must be filled once more,

each day, each hour.



All mankind withers as the grass

(well have you known since Christmas first)

fodder for all the beasts that pass

since Adam's curse.



So do I wither, dry as hay;

stone is my heart, fit but for straw.

How shall I see your dawning day

or know my God?



So you must fill me, Christ to come,

or leave me empty, barren stone,

filled with the shadows or the sun

by you alone.

Nativity scene By Peter van der Sluijs – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=54200486