The Kingdom of God

The kingdom of God is among you,
as it was in Jerusalem's streets,
when donkeys left mountains of dung there
for Jesus to wash from our feet.

For thus it was in the beginning,
and thus evermore it shall be:
He comes in the midst of our sinning,
when light's what we most need to see.

The God who made mountains and molehills,
who could have made mints and machines,
rolled us from the dust like  Marlboro,
lit us with the spark of his being.

So into the dust he came rolling
to wallow in what he had made,
and hallow the ash of our smoking,
and roll us back out of the grave.

And who'll wash his feet in our mudbath?
We can't even untie his shoes,
but, oh, we will give him a bloodbath,
and, oh, he will make us brand new.

It's into the midst of this circus,
this mess that's not fit to be seen,
he comes when we most need his mercy,
he comes, and he makes the dust clean.

Icon of Jesus Christ, last quarter of the 15 th century, in St. George church in Struga, Macedonia By Unknown author – Охридско-струшки иконописни траги од втората половина на 15 век, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15822920

Psalm 121: Spokane

I lift my eyes unto the hills
whose secrets stand unknown;
below my feet, the river spills
over the jagged stone.

And what shall come from mountain height,
from summits sharp and steep?
The breaking of the mornig light
awaking me from sleep.

And what shall come from tumbled stone
the current chases on?
The icy notes flung out and flown
to fill the bright'ning dawn.

So from the heights and from the depths
your mercy comes to me:
You name, O God, my hope and help
inscribed on sky and scree.

For you built up the mountain peaks
that bite into the sky,
its beauty spread out as a feast—
and thus you feed my eye.

And you poured out the flowing stream
to water thirsty lands.
My panting soul drinks in the gleam
of mercy from your hands.

The Spokane River at Riverside State Park, Spokane, Washington By I, Murderbike, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2232651

Sacred Heart

For the feast of the Sacred Heart:

The desert wind still stings,
dust blowing into dust,
but you have made a place of springs,
who set your heart on us.

Not for our strength or grace,
but for a love all yours,
you bring us to your resting place
where mercy ever pours.

Your shadow is our rest;
your stream undammed and free
shall rise in every pilgrim's breast—
and there your heart shall be.

And when we take our way
your heart in ours shall beat;
your voice shall be our yea or nay;
your steps shall guide our feet.

With your eyes we shall see,
your eyes that look on God:
Wheree'er we turn, there God shall be—
the world shall be your heart.

So give us this to drink:
the love that pours from you,
that we may be your living springs
and make the desert new.

Józef Mehoffer – Serce Jezusa 1930 – http://www.polswissart.pl, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=126863843

Psalm 90: Charlottesville

Written at a farmhouse outside Charlottsville, VA, on a Porter’s Gate retreat:

Our songs drown out the buzzing of the bees,
but we will fade like grass beneath your feet.
The bees will still be singing when we're gone,
but for a moment, Lord, you have our song.

Before the mountain ridges touched the stars,
before we blossom here, O God, you are.
Our refuge and our rock through all the years,
and when we leave, you still will hold us near.

Our blindest lights outshine the fireflies,
but oh, the wonder when they meet our eyes!
Our burning days are briefer than their flare:
We pass away like breath upon the air.

O, teach us then to count our little days:
The wisdom of our hearts will teach us praise.
And though we know the night is coming on,
you fill us with your mercy in the dawn.

We wake to birdsong in the morning sun;
before the night falls, all our songs are done.
The sun will rise again upon the land;
we will be gone, and still be in your hand.

Western honey bee visiting flowers By Louise Docker – https://www.flickr.com/photos/aussiegall/6105263663, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16416449

Words Must Fail

For Trinity Sunday:

O God, you are; O God, you were;
O God, you are to come,
and we, who are and are no more,
proclaim and yet are mum.
Beyond the meaning of our words,
you are and ever shall,
and oh! what grace, that we are heard
where all our words must fail.

Eternal God and triune God:
Our wonder multiplies
beyond the bounds of mind and heart,
the means of ears or eyes,
for you exist beyond our sense
or metaphor's bright pale.
Oh, draw us, step by faltering step,
where all our words must fail.

Into the everlasting dance
of knowing and of known
bring us, with fumbling feet and hands,
to join you, three-in-one.
In bodies here we singly stand,
but draw us through the veil
and even we may understand
where your word never fails.

Dreifaltigkeitskreuz in Bronze auf Stein By Karbohut – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=120823805

Icons

O God, you wrote your icons
in Eden's virgin dust,
prepared us for the bridegroom,
and breathed your life in us.
You made the dirt your mirror,
reflecting heav'n above,
and shaped your image-bearers
in echo of your love.

Long since we have left Eden,
the ground that bears us cursed,
dust wounded and dust weeping,
but printed with your words.
We failed to read the message
when it was written new;
how can we see your image
who can no more see you?

And so you sent the bridegroom
to find his wand'ring brides
and to reveal your icons
to weak and weary eyes.
Though Eden lies behind us,
turn us to face true east,
to follow where you guide us—
O, call us to your feast!

Христос и грешница. Фреска Софийский собор в Вологде By Дмитрий Плеханов (1642 — 1710) – А. Рыбаков. Художественные памятники Вологды, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7978622

Visitation

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting,
the infant leaped in her womb,
and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit,
cried out in a loud voice and said,
“Most blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
And how does this happen to me,
that the mother of my Lord should come to me?
For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears,
the infant in my womb leaped for joy.
Blessed are you who believed
that what was spoken to you by the Lord
would be fulfilled.”
Luke 1:39-56

Within me, yet not of me,
in answer to your voice:
the sudden wave that floods me,
the flutters of his joy.

The child of such long promise
sees more than I can see—
What light shines in his darkness,
now you have come to me?

And silently he shouts it;
what words can barely form
his ecstasy announces:
The coming of the Lord!

Who am I to receive him,
unseen though he appears?
Blest are you who believed it,
the word that touched your ears!

For here within your body
salvation lies in wait,
and when he parts those waters,
new life shall run in spate!

Across the hills you bear him,
how hiddenly, the Christ,
and I, who have been barren,
am bearer of delight!

Master of the Geneva Latini – Book of Hours (Use of Rouen)- fol. 39r, The Visitation – 1952.227.39.a – Cleveland Museum of Art (cropped) By Master of the Rouen Echevinage – https://clevelandart.org/art/1952.227.39.a, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77867996

Come All God’s Great Creation

Come, all God's great creation;
come, Adam and come, Eve;
come, Cain and oh, come, Abel:
The light of Christ receive.
For he has opened barrows
and called the bones within.
The fields of hell he harrows
and tramples death and sin.

Come, Moses and Isaiah;
come, Peter and come, John;
come, Job and Jeremiah:
Arise and see the dawn.
Come, all who dwell in shadow;
come, exiled and forlorn
or weeping for your failures:
Come now and greet the morn.

Come, Abraham and Sarah;
come, Jacob and Esau;
come, Rachel and come, Leah:
Each one of you he calls.
Come out of death's dark valley:
He calls as as we are
and leads us into heaven
where we shall shine like stars.

Christ’s Descent into Limbo, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, c. 1510 – Encyclopedia of Comparative Iconography. Volume 1, pp. 200-201 under “Damned Souls”, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=13756140

From All the Four Winds, Come

Then the LORD said to me:
Prophesy to the spirit, prophesy, son of man,
and say to the spirit: Thus says the Lord GOD:
From the four winds come, O spirit,
and breathe into these slain that they may come to life.
I prophesied as he told me, and the spirit came into them;
they came alive and stood upright, a vast army.
Then he said to me:
Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel.
They have been saying,
“Our bones are dried up,
our hope is lost, and we are cut off.”
Therefore, prophesy and say to them: Thus says the Lord GOD:
O my people, I will open your graves
and have you rise from them,
and bring you back to the land of Israel.
Then you shall know that I am the LORD,
when I open your graves and have you rise from them,
O my people!
I will put my spirit in you that you may live,
and I will settle you upon your land;
thus you shall know that I am the LORD.
I have promised, and I will do it, says the LORD.
Ezekiel 37:1-14

From all the four winds, come,
O Spirit of our God:
Give back the hope that's long been gone;
revive our buried hearts.
Breathe into these dry bones;
bring life from barren ground.
Restore our voices, or the stones
your praises will cry out.

Pour mercy on our souls,
your waters on our roots,
that we may grow back, healed and whole,
enrobed in greenest shoots—
not as we dressed at first
to cover shame and sin,
but in the new life bursting forth:
your Spirit in our skin.

Your life within us burns,
but flames cannot consume
that hearts now evergreen, returned
from deep within our tombs.
So we are whole again,
knit up in flesh and blood,
if only you will send the rain:
your mercy as a flood.

Epitaph ( 16th century ) showing the vision of Ezekiel ( 37,4 ) and the ressurrection of the dead ( City museum, Wels/ Austria ) By Wolfgang Sauber – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10394722

As a Sparrow Finds Its Shelter

“The present life of man upon earth, O King, seems to me in comparison with that time which is unknown to us like the swift flight of a sparrow through the mead-hall where you sit at supper in winter, with your Ealdormen and thanes, while the fire blazes in the midst and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest, but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter to winter again. So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.”
St. Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People

As a sparrow finds its shelter
from the raging storm outside
here amid the smoke and rafters,
guided by the fire's light,
yet it rests for but a moment—
for a moment and no more—
ere it flies out through the doorway,
from the storm into the storm,

so we all are born as sparrows,
come to light from the unknown,
and our moments fly as arrows.
Swiftly, swiftly, we are gone.
For the night outside still beckons
in the howling of the storm
with a sound that can't be reckoned:
Into dark, we fly once more.

God of light and God of shadows,
master of the shining hall,
plant this firelight in your sparrows
when we heed the stormwind's call.
When we fly from sound and fury
to the broad, unbounded night,
guide us on the homeward journey:
God of sparrows, give us light.

Venerable Bede in an illustrated manuscript, writing his Ecclesiastical History of the English People By http://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/de/bke/0047/1v – http://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/de/bke/0047/1v, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77974574