Unclean

A leper came to Jesus and kneeling down begged him and said,
“If you wish, you can make me clean.”
Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand,
touched him, and said to him,
“I do will it. Be made clean.”
The leprosy left him immediately, and he was made clean.
Mark 1:40-45

To the tune FINLANDIA:

Look down, O God, on all befouled and cast off,

on all who slink and strive to go unseen,

on all who pass in shadows and through backdoors,

on all who hide and know themselves unclean.

Look down and see, who knows what I would ask for,

yet if you wish it, you can make me clean.



You know my need, who bore it in your body,

and my desire, much as I might deny:

I would be seen, but who would see me worthy?

I would be known; from being known, I fly.

I would be loved, but, Lord, I am not lovely.

O Son of David, do not pass me by!



But if you will, O Christ, if you desire it,

then you can heal this wounded, wayward heart.

Though hidden deep, yet you can seek and find it

and bring it home, though I would dwell apart.

Though strong its chains, yet you can still unbind it

and make it whole, though I have only shards.



O tender Lord and shepherd of the broken,

who searches out the lost in every land,

you call my name—I cannot hear it spoken;

then reach for me with healing in your hands.

Now spit in dust, and bid me to be opened,

and touch my tongue to sing your praise again.

Niels Larsen Stevns: Helbredelsen af den spedalske,Healing of the Leper – Own work (Own photo)(Skovgaard Museum, Viborg, Denmark), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1430117 OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Broken Cisterns 2

A re-write of this:

We set out for our Edens;

we thought we knew the way,

but shimmers in the distance

have tempted us to stray.

Still, Lord, we were insistent

that you would bless our days:

We dug these broken cisterns,

then knelt and prayed for rain.



You opened up the heavens,

poured water through our hands,

but all that we collected

ran off into the sands.

We thought that you would bless us

and sanctify our plans,

but, God, our wells are empty,

and thirsty still we stand.



But you know well the desert--

through forty days and nights

you let yourself be tempted.

You know our tears and sighs.

And you have felt our yearnings,

our hungers and our drives--

then may we feel your mercy.

O Mercy, hear our cry!



Take all our broken cisterns

and make them sound and whole.

Our locust-eaten vistas

in you can be restored.

Our empty wells transfigure;

redeem our hungry souls

to hold the good you've given:
Pour out your grace once more!

Broken Cisterns

Two evils my people have done:
they have forsaken me, the source of living waters;
They have dug themselves cisterns,
broken cisterns that cannot hold water.
Jeremiah 2:13

We walked the desert distance

in search of welcome lands,

but dug these broken cisterns,

like graves, with our own hands.

We chased our own insistence

that shimmered on the sands:

Now we are trapped and twisted

in thirst that never ends.



Make haste, O loving Father,

to seek us ere we die,

your wayward sons and daughters

who flee your gentle eye.

We turned from what you offered,

yet, Mercy, hear our cry:

Pour out your living water,

for, oh! our hearts are dry!



Though what we dug was broken,

yet you can make it whole;

the years lost to the locust

in you can be restored.

Redeem our slipshod workings;

our wasted days transform:

Let them, too, hold your goodness:

Pour out your grace, O Lord!

Remains of a Nabataean cistern north of Makhtesh Ramon, southern IsraelBy Wilson44691 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18792763

Empty Hands

After making the crossing to the other side of the sea,
Jesus and his disciples came to land at Gennesaret
and tied up there.
As they were leaving the boat, people immediately recognized him.
They scurried about the surrounding country
and began to bring in the sick on mats
to wherever they heard he was.
Whatever villages or towns or countryside he entered,
they laid the sick in the marketplaces
and begged him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak;
and as many as touched it were healed.
Mark 6:53-56

You came from distant glory

to walk upon our shore.

In city or in country,

we scramble to come forward,

for if your shadow touch me

it mends what I have rent,

and what do you ask of me

but only to repent?



You crossed the seas from heaven

and landed on our sands

to tell us of forgiveness,

a kingdom close at hand.

I come to you with nothing

to beg your grace, O Christ—

and you accept the offer,

for nothing could suffice.



I cannot work you wonders—

such powers I hold not.

I cannot speak like thunder

or seek and save the lost.

My hands are weak and empty,

without a gleam of gold,

but when you pass they stretch toward

the tassel of your robe.

jesus-healing-the-sick-by-gustave-dore-1832-1883 Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14764413

Fragile Threads

Job spoke, saying:
Is not man’s life on earth a drudgery?
Are not his days those of hirelings?
He is a slave who longs for the shade,
a hireling who waits for his wages.
So I have been assigned months of misery,
and troubled nights have been allotted to me.
If in bed I say, “When shall I arise?”
then the night drags on;
I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle;
they come to an end without hope.
Remember that my life is like the wind;
I shall not see happiness again.
Job 7:1-4, 6-7

Swifter than a weaver's shuttle,

briefer than a watch at night,

drudgery and toil and trouble,

sleepless as we wait for light:

So we spend our whole life's journey,

restless nights and wasted days,

yet as lightning comes your mercy,

showing wonders by its blaze.



Christ, you see the brokenhearted:

Tenderly you bind their wounds.

Call us as you call the stars out,

glowing embers in our gloom.

You rebuild what lies within us;

you, the highest, look down low.

As you came to dwell with sinners,

so you turn our tears to hope.



We are fragile threads, but blessèd.

All roads lead us to our tombs,

yet you came to share our weakness,

thread yourself upon the loom.

You have borne our ills within you,

our infirmities your own,

so we'll share the life you've given

endlessly before your throne.

Job and His Friends by Ilya Repin (1869) – http://lj.rossia.org/users/john_petrov/854534.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2538610

Fragments

In their synagogue was a man with an unclean spirit;
he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?
Have you come to destroy us?
I know who you are—the Holy One of God!”
Jesus rebuked him and said,
“Quiet! Come out of him!”
Mark 1:21-28

Look on me, O Lord of heaven,

you who break the chains of hell,

see all that is unforgiven,

all unhealed—and make me well.



Yet the very words are terror:

All unchained, what will I be?

You destroy our cherished errors;

what will you destroy in me?



I cannot but bow before you,

lord of heaven, lord of earth. 

Even demons must adore you:

What am I at this rebirth?



I have fostered legions in me;

you seek undivided hearts,

yet if sin can't wholly win me,

take, at least, my better parts.



Take the fragments that have sought you,

though you shatter all that's left.

Little have I as I ought to:

Take it all, though I am cleft.



Yet, if you can, save the leavings,

though I know not what I'll be.

Take the legions I am keeping.

Change me, Lord: Let me be free.

Eleventh century fresco of the Exorcism at the Synagogue in Capernaum. By Unknown author – Scan aus: Rudolf Lehr –- Landes-Chronik Oberösterreich, Wien: Verlag Christian Brandstätter 2004 S. 79 ISBN 3-85498-331-X, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6633986

Now Are the Mighty Fallen

“Alas! the glory of Israel, Saul,
slain upon your heights;
how can the warriors have fallen!
Saul and Jonathan, beloved and cherished,
separated neither in life nor in death,
swifter than eagles, stronger than lions!
Women of Israel, weep over Saul,
who clothed you in scarlet and in finery,
who decked your attire with ornaments of gold.
How can the warriors have fallen–
in the thick of the battle,
slain upon your heights!
I grieve for you, Jonathan my brother!
most dear have you been to me;
more precious have I held love for you than love for women.
How can the warriors have fallen,
the weapons of war have perished!”
2 Samuel 1:19, 23-27

Now are the embers darkened,

and dimly sinks the night;

stars fall from zenith softly,

to be swallowed by the light

that cracks the east like heartache

and seeps across the skies.

Now are the mighty fallen

to silence on the heights.



How can the day be dawning?

Morning has come too soon.

I'd swear I hear you calling—

how can you light be through?

How could there still be birdsong

when every song was for you?

Now are the mighty fallen,

and I am falling, too.



Strongest you were, and stronger

than lions in their pride,

swifter than hawks or thunder

or lightning as it dives,

gone now like any other,

fragile as every life.

Now are the mighty fallen;

blind are my weeping eyes.



Now you are gone, my brothers;

gone are the fathers, too.

Grinly now stand the mothers,

with sisters they're grieving you.

Now children rend their garments,

learning to weep too soon.

Now are the mighty fallen;

now we are fallen, too.

David Composing the Psalms, Paris Psalter, 10th century By anonymous – Paris psalter (BnF MS Grec 139), folio 1v, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=807679

Calling

As he passed by the Sea of Galilee,
he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting their nets into the sea;
they were fishermen.
Jesus said to them,
“Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.”
Mark 1:14-20

When Christ comes walking on the sands,

the ocean cheers in swells:

The seas need not become like land;

they are made more themselves.



The rivers do not cease to flow:

Like justice, they roll down.

The strength of waves is made Christ's road

where every falsehood drowns.



The builders shall not leave their work

but find their cornerstone,

and shepherds know their truest flock

in pasturing God's own.



So, fishers, come and mend your nets

to follow him today,

for you shall cast them in his steps

where deeper waters play.



Not for the harvest of the dark

that dwells beneath the waves,

but for the bounty of the hearts

arising from their graves.



Come, listen for the savior's voice.

It is for this he came:

To call you into heaven's joys

by calling out your name.

Tissot, James, The calling of Peter and Andrew. – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2007, 00.159.56_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195832

Seed of Hope

When I grow weary with my days

that never seem to bear your fruit,

Lord, lead me to some sheltered place

where new life stirs in leaves and shoots.



And when I sink down on that ground,

give me the strength to plant my seed,

to let its hidden roots reach out

and grow again your hope in me.



Although I cannot see it thrive

while buried in the ground it sleeps,

teach me to trust the source of life

that hope is stirring in the deeps.



Though what I plant is all too small

for everything tomorrow needs,

you made both the seed and soil.

You bless the bread, and thousands eat.



So if I cultivate this hope,

though I may water it with tears,

it is your harvest I will grow

to feed the joy of coming years.



O Lord of bounty, nourish me

with days of sun and days of rain.

Call all I have into your feast

and grow your hope in me again.

Phone photography. Birth of life. Seedling of unidentified plant By akshatsgi – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=74067396

Gently

The hands stretched out upon the cross

held nothing in their grasp,

but offered all things back to God

with Jesus' final gasp.



So may my hands be open, Lord,

my fingers be uncurled

to love the ones I cannot hold

abroad within the world.



The heart of Christ drained all he had;

it emptied heaven out,

and raining on the good and bad

became an endless fount.



So may my heart be generous—

as you are to all things—

to love the unjust with the just

and find your flowing spring.



For you have loved me gently, Lord,

through all my senseless fright,

through every waking whispered word,

a mother in the night.



So may I mother all of them

as rain and sun shall fall.

Though but a single drop I am,

yet may I give it all.

Crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, medieval illustration from the Hortus deliciarum of Herrad of Landsberg, 12th century By Herrad of Landsberg – Hortus Deliciarum, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=31489656