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

Phos Hilaron

First half based on this text; second half is all Advent:

O gladsome light of God on high

and glory of eternity,

O heaven's holiness most bright,

Christ shining down on all we see,



we come now to the end of days,

the glow of evening fading fast.

In growing shadow still we praise

the Father, Son, and Spirit Blest.



Whether in darkness or at dawn,

still do we raise unwearied voice

in praise of you, our shining sun,

in whom we glory and rejoice.



Still do we hold the hope of sight,

whether at morn or midnight deep,

of you who shine forever bright,

whether we wake or deathly sleep.



Dwelling in shadow of our doom,

waiting beneath the dark'ning skies,

still do we know that day comes soon.

Yet will the sun of justice rise.



Light of the world, world's only light,

whether we see your face or not,

give us the hope that dawn shines bright,

strength to yet praise your glory, God.  Amen.

A flock of Red-winged Blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) flying into the sunset. Taken at Quivira National Wildlife Refuge in Kansas. By Jerry Segraves (en:User:Jsegraves99) – http://www.fhwa.dot.gov/byways/photos/64091, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=733208

Carry Us

Carry us these last miles; get us to Bethlehem.

Crossing the barren wilds: Make us a way through them.



Carry us further still, Shepherd and lamb enthroned.

Gather our hearts to fill; carry us all back home.



Till Eden's earth again; garden the waiting world,

sower and seed as one, new life within us furled.



So shall the deserts bloom watered by mercy's rain,

so shall the world be womb, bearing you out of clay.



So shall our hearts bear fruit, harvest from barren stone

hollowed by mercy's flood, holding heav'n's bread alone.



Carry us, infant Lord, like we were infants too.

Dwell with us in the world that we may dwell with you.

Flight into Egypt By Joachim Patinir – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=156123

Since

Since we must walk in darkness,

Lord, let it be your wings,

your Spirit come upon us

and overshadowing.



And since we bear these burdens

and bodies waxing great,

then let it be for birthing

we carry trouble's weight.



This weary road before us—

Lord, will it ever end?

Each mile unfolding for us

leads on to Bethlehem.



And if our hearts are hardened

and empty as a tomb,

yet stone can be an altar

where we prepare you room.



For you can take our valleys,

our mountains, fears, and pains

and make yourself a straight way

across a level plain.



And you can take our failures

and humbling in the dust

and make yourself a manger

where you can come to us.

Donkey eating apples from a steel trough By Sheila1988 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77807464

Unheard

Based on Jesus Through Medieval Eyes (the chapter on Christ as Word) and the O antiphons:

The Father's gathered syllables,

one long, unbroken Word

has lain these months invisible,

unspeaking and unheard.



E'er since the angel said it last,

the silent Word is cloaked

within the woman who said yes,

beneath her heart invoked.



To weave a word's embodiment—

eyes, hands, and lips and breath—

his mother is the sacred tent

of birth and life and death.



Unheard, yet he is not unknown;

unseen, yet still in mind,

a secret held by her alone

until the hours unwind.



Until he's born into the world,

no treatise but a child:

God's plan in him in her arms curled;

God's wisdom in her smile.



And how our silence aches to hear

his echoes in the dark,

for when he cries out, loud and clear,

the sky fills up with sparks.

Verso of folio 30 from The Poissy Antiphonal, a certified Dominican antiphonal of 428 folios from Poissy, written 1335-1345, with a complete annual cycle of chants for the Divine Office (Temporal, Sanctoral and Commons) and a hymnal. By Unknown author – La Trobe University Library, Medieval Music Database, The Poissy Antiphonal, folio 30v., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8660919

Testify To the Light

A man named John was sent from God.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him.
He was not the light,
but came to testify to the light.
John 1:6-8

There is a light that never dims,

no matter what we see,

and all the blinded wait for him

to set the captives free.



There is a light that we mistake—

more bright than flame or sun—

until we see the morning break

and know the glorious one.



Come, prophets, see what we cannot,

for we can only guess

the way marked for us in the dark

across this wilderness.



Come take our hands and lead the way

around pitfalls and stones

until he makes a level plain

to bear an easy road.



Or—yes—until we see it clear,

for then it shall be smooth.

When that great light is drawing near,

this wilderness will bloom.



And all the mountains bow to him,

and all the valleys rise,

the lame leap up and run to him

when morning greets our eyes.

Observing a sunrise on the National Elk Refuge is truly a memorable experience. Photo: Kari Cieszkiewicz/USFWS Scenes from the National Elk Refuge By USFWS Mountain-Prairie – A Frosty Morning, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=110781726

Turn Back the Clocks

Our Advents and our Christmases

have all gone wrong:

The slaughter of the innocents

plays all year long.



But they were fine just days ago—

Turn back the hours

to when the kings came, solemn, slow,

and all bowed down.



The soldiers will lay down their arms

at Herod's feet;

the mothers waked in their alarms

go back to sleep.



The children who laid down for aye

will wake at dusk,

and nothing trouble Herod's mind—

Turn back the clocks



to when the earth and heaven met

and hung there, poised.

Silent we came and bowed our heads

and wept for joy.



Stop the clocks there—let this be all—

Days, go no more.

How can we bear what must befall

if we go forward?

Pieter Brueghel the Elder, Massacre of the Innocents – qgGZ6pq1mTaabw at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21984073