What Had Been Mine

Speak Mary, declaring
What you saw wayfaring:
“The Tomb of Christ, who is living.
The glory of Jesus’ Resurrection;
Bright angels attesting,
The shroud and napkin resting.
Yes, Christ my hope is arisen:
To Galilee he goes before you.”
Victimae Paschali Laudes

My love I poured upon his head
from alabaster jar,
but now my love, my lord, is dead,
and I am left in shards.

I poured my sorrows on his feet
and wiped them with my hair.
He lies there in his winding sheet,
and I am in despair.

My love is lost; my hope is fled,
but I take what I have—
despair and sorrow for the dead—
and go to life's own grave.

But where my life was laid in tomb,
he took and shook the ground.
The buried seed has burst in bloom,
and my lost love is found!

And oh! My hope himself is ris'n!
What had been mine is he:
despair and sorrow on his skin
rewritten gloriously!

And all I had, it is himself,
and all he is, is mine,
for Christ has risen up from death
and all I've lost I find.

*Noli me tangere* (c. 1512) by Titian – 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=159527

The River To the Sea

O Love of God, poured endlessly 
from each to each to each, all three,
that overflowed and made a world
and still through time and space unfurls,

you formed the place of birth and bloom
and poured yourself into the womb;
the vessel of the world you'd made
you flowed to fill, in Mary laid.

And still you flow, our space to fill
though we have shaped that space to kill,
a vessel built of sin and loss—
you made the world; we made the cross.

Yet you, the river to the sea,
flow on and on still ceaselessly.
The space we give you, that you fill,
and over us your mercy spills.

From cross you flowed into the tomb;
from grave into the deepest gloom,
and then from there the waters rise
to fill all things beneath the skies.

So fill me, Lord; teach me to breathe
the waters filling all I see,
and form in me a space of love.
For you, the wine, make me the cup.

Plaque depicting saints rising from the dead. Photo By Marie-Lan Nguyen (2012), CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18570676

Descent

A sonnet for Holy Saturday:

We take the cross; we take the downward way,
and he who calls us, calls us ever lower.
The servants of the slave will have his pay;
the downcast seed is trampled by the sower.

“Come, follow after me,” and he descends,
the son of heaven, to the pits of hell,
and he who had no place to lay his head
will lay it down where rebel angels fell.

So lie with him as deeply as he lies;
your body break where everything is nought.
Out of the depths, the spring of love must flow.

Embrace him where the blind worm never dies,
and burn with him where flames are all your thought.
Out of this barren grave, the seed must grow.

*Christ in Limbo*, by a follower of Hieronymus Bosch – monsterbrains.blogspot.comhttp://collection.imamuseum.org/artwork/79340/index.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6700385

When Judas Turned

When Judas turned and fled
to hide himself in hell
for he your guiltless blood had shed,
you followed where he fell.

He cast his prize away,
cast out by those he served,
and cast himself into the flame,
some justice then to serve.

You cast all heav'n aside
and rushed into the tomb.
When your disciple left your side,
you sought him in the gloom.

When Judas climbed the tree
from which his rope was hung,
he plunged in dark eternity
when from the branch he swung.

So you climbed up as high,
hung from a tree as well.
In answer to the sinners' cry,
you plunged yourself in hell.

So now, O Christ of love,
look down, look down on me.
As lightning striking from above,
drop down, drop down with me.

Come save all Judases
who fly from you in shame.
Fulfill what every prophet says,
the promise of your name.

Das Gewissen von Nikolai Nikolajewitsch Ge (1891) – 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=151431

Sing, My Tongue, His Body’s Glory

Riffing on the PANGE LINGUA:

Sing, my tongue, his body's glory:
God incarnate, Jesus Christ.
Sing his precious blood outpouring;
sing of his self-sacrifice.
He, the cross of shame adorning,
gives us back our paradise.

Born of Mary, man from woman,
God from glory came to earth.
Angel hosts adored the human,
sang the wonder of his birth.
Now the reason for his coming
we, astonished, here observe:

Bowing to the word that Moses
had received on Sinai's height,
he, the Word of God, unfolds it,
brings its mysteries to light,
finishes the ancient foretaste:
Death shall not pass o'er tonight.

Now the body born of Mary,
this he gives, disguised as bread;
takes the cup and, blessing, sharing,
gives his lifeblood to his friends;
all unstinting, all unsparing,
gives his all before his end.

Given once and gift forever,
on the altar he has lain,
joining what our sin had severed:
earth and heaven, one again.
Heart and mind and flesh together
sing of him, the lamb once slain.

So we kneel in adoration
here before the Son of God,
weeping in our jubilation
at the nature of his love.
Father, Spirit, Son in union,
we adore with flesh and blood.

*The Last Supper*, by Tintoretto, 1592–1594 – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15542295

Judas

I cried, “Hosanna!” with the crowd
and joined them shouting in the street
for you to cast the mighty down.
You knelt to me and washed my feet.

I took and ate the bread you broke,
the taste dissolving on my tongue.
I drank in every word you spoke,
but left before the songs were sung.

(I sit here counting silver coins
that shine no light into my pain.
Between my marrow and my joints
I feel the swordpoint of your name.)

I took their money and their deal,
that one should die for all the rest.
My deeds I thought I could conceal,
but everything you knew or guessed.

I met you at Gethsemane 
with all my heart upon my lips.
What was it, when you looked at me?
What broke within me at a kiss?

(I turn them over, one by one,
each Caesar's face accusing me.
I was so sure in what I'd done,
but where now is my certainty?)

I trusted you in everything
and longed to see what you would do.
You would have made a worthy king
and, oh!, I would have followed you!

I waited for your justice, Lord,
the revelation of your pow'r.
When you would not, I took the sword,
and where is David's glory now?

(I scatter them across the floor;
they wink at me like thirty eyes.
No more of this.  No more, no more.
The sun is dimmed and my light dies.)

Mary, Did You See?

Did you see it in the manger?
Was he torn like broken bread,
showing you the coming danger,
straw like thorns around his head?

Did you see him wounded, bleeding,
in your blood and water then?
As you lay, his hunger feeding,
did you know we'd feed on him?

Did you see him handed over
as he lay there in your arms?
Did your fear and doubt take over,
sounding, screaming their alarms?

Did you see him wrapped in linen
when you swaddled him to sleep,
see him laid into the tomb, then,
and for years that image keep?

Now the crowd shouts out, “Hosanna!”
Does it echo in your ears
with the cries that came upon you,
fleeing Bethlehem in tears?

Now he strides into the Temple
where you sought him in despair.
Could you ever be forgetful
of the fear that took you there?

Mary, following his journey,
was it as you'd always known?
Did you ever think of turning,
begging him to come back home?

Now the sword is drawing nearer
that the old man had foretold.
Do you see it ever clearer
as you watch the days unfold?

Dieffler Pietà, Wooden sculpture, presumably 15th or 18th century, former chapel of St Wendelin in Diefflen, Saarland Museum, Old Collection By Oktobersonne – Saarlandmuseum, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36848130

Shout For Joy, Take II

Not entirely happy with my last piece, I am splitting it up into two songs. Here is the first, to the tune NETTLETON (or ODE TO JOY still works):

Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!
See at last your king has come!
On an ass rides Judah's lion;
horse and chariot both are done.
Now the warrior's bow is banished
from his reaches, sea to sea.
War forevermore has vanished;
now at last there will be peace!

But the road before is weary;
but the hill he climbs is steep.
Soon the crowds will turn from cheering;
Christ a greater vict'ry seeks.
Not by conquest shall he conquer;
not by war can war be stilled.
Shout “Hosanna!” at the wonder:
Death by death alone is killed.

This the road that lies before him:
He surrenders all to love.
Come, apostles, lay your swords down,
for his kingdom lies above.
Soon this world in fire dissolving
shall with heaven be made new.
Christ our life shall rule in all things;
peace at last shall reign in truth!

*Entry into Jerusalem*, by Giotto, 14th century. – Unknown source, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2941674

Shout For Joy, O Daughter Zion!

For Palm Sunday, to the tune ODE TO JOY:

Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!
See at last your king has come!
On an ass rides Judah's lion;
horse and chariot both are done.
Now the warrior's bow is banished
from his reaches, sea to sea.
War forevermore has vanished;
now at last there will be peace!

Lift your heads, you mighty portals:
Let the king of glory in.
Who is he, a mighty warlord?
No, an off'ring for our sin.
He shall fall as free as manna
that his vict'ry may be won.
Line the roads and shout, “Hosanna!
Blessed is great David's son!”

Raise aloft your songs and branches;
lay your cloaks before his feet.
Shield him from the dust and ashes
once before his death he meets.
Come, Jerusalem, embrace him;
gather to him while you can.
Lift your palm leaves high and praise him!
Come and see: Behold the man!

Palmesel (figure of Christ on a donkey, mounted on a wheeled platform). Art from Southern Germany, perhaps Swabia. Photo By Marie-Lan Nguyen (2012), CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18285774

Ubi Caritas

You can chant this to the Ubi Caritas; it’s more of a riff than a translation. For one thing, I got the Latin wrong as I was thinking it over: I was thinking “et vera” instead of “est vera.” And I don’t speak Latin, anyway. But I like the riff, so here it is:

Where there is love and there is truth, you will find God.

For so in Christ we have been gathered, in God-with-us:
Divinity became our brother in human flesh.
We bore God's image; now he bears ours, who makes us one,
so let us now love with truthful hearts in Christ the Son.

And as the body's undivided, so, too, our minds
must be in truth and love united, honest and kind.
As he laid down his heav'nly glory, we lay aside
our bitter hate and angry storming, for love of Christ.

So now we gather with the blessed who've gone before
and pray we may inherit heaven and share their joy.
We see the face of Christ reflected in each one here;
may we see Christ himself directly forever there.  Amen.