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.

Orthodox icon of Christ washing the feet of the Apostles (16th century, Pskov school of iconography) By anonimous – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3694589

Come, O Christ, Into the Shadows

To the tune NETTLETON:

Come, O Christ, into the shadows,
God from God and Light from Light,
far from heaven as you can go:
Come with me into the night.
Walk me through the Bitter Valley—
can you make it run with springs?
Walk me into all that shall be,
Lord of lords and King of Kings.

Come with me into the darkness;
never leave my fearful side,
but stay with through the starkness.
Be my shepherd and my guide,
for the night lies still before me,
with the terror that it brings.
Even so, let it be for me
but the shadow of your wings.

Come, then, Word of all creation,
you who wove the light and dark,
to caverns at the bases
of the mountains of your heart.
For I cannot go around them;
all my journeying lies through,
but your mercy, too, is down there,
and I walk the dark with you.

Harrowing of Hell By Follower of Hieronymus Bosch – http://www.philamuseum.org, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6072326

Ah, Lazarus

And when he had said this,
He cried out in a loud voice,
“Lazarus, come out!”
The dead man came out,
tied hand and foot with burial bands,
and his face was wrapped in a cloth.
So Jesus said to them,
“Untie him and let him go.”
John 11:1-45

Ah, Lazarus, how long you lay
amid the stones and stench of death
before the savior spoke your name,
before you gasped again for breath.

Where were you, then, when you had gone?
Into what depths did you descend,
and when it came, that breath indrawn,
what secrets did you tell your friend?

Had you stepped onto Limbo's shores
(What is the tide that meets those sands?)
to wait with them who'd gone before
to see at last th'outreaching hands?

And did they tell you then, the dead,
what you would see when you returned?
And did you whisper words of dread,
confess to him what you had learned?

That he would go where you had gone,
and Adam for all Adams slain,
to wait with them the rising dawn,
between the ember and the flame?

O Lazarus, what did he say?
Did you put all his hopes to rout
when you had pointed out the way?
Or did he say once more, “Come out”?

Sixth-century mosaic of the Raising of Lazarus, church of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna, Italy. By anonimus – [1], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7167000

Write My Name

Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger.
But when they continued asking him,
he straightened up and said to them,
“Let the one among you who is without sin
be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Again he bent down and wrote on the ground.
And in response, they went away one by one,
beginning with the elders.
So he was left alone with the woman before him.
Then Jesus straightened up and said to her,
“Woman, where are they?
Has no one condemned you?”
She replied, “No one, sir.”
Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you.
Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”
John 8:1-11

Write my name down in the dust:
What I am and what I'll be,
what I have been, Christ, my judge,
you alone can clearly see.

Write my sins into the ground;
show them to me, seed and root,
tendrils wrapping me aound,
growing in me bitter fruit.

Write your icon in the earth,
Word my sins cannot misspell.
Write the true ground of my worth:
mercies more than I can tell.

Write your new law in the stones
that would fly to strike me down.
Take my stone heart for your own:
Make my dust your holy ground.

Write for me another end;
turn my life to follow yours.
You who could have not condemned;
let me go to sin no more.

*Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery*, 1565 by Pieter Bruegel, Oil on panel, 24cm x 34cm – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15452042

A River Flows

On that day there will no longer be cold or frost. There will be one continuous day—it is known to the LORD—not day and night, for in the evening there will be light. On that day, fresh water will flow from Jerusalem,e half to the eastern sea, and half to the western sea. This will be so in summer and in winter. The LORD will be king over the whole earth;f on that day the LORD will be the only one, and the LORD’s name the only one.
Zechariah 14:6-9

A river flows both east and west,
down from the city to the seas,
a pulse that echoes through the flesh
and fills the farflung hands and feet.

There is no margin, only veins
that bind us surely to the heart,
and every capillary strays
to tie the knots we cannot part.

Then come: Wheree'er your path may wind
the living water makes its way,
and where you look there you will find
o;er your abyss the Spirit plays.

Then go: The very ends of th'earth
are not the end; the stream flows on,
and if you circled all the world
you would not end where you began.

And if you sink into the pit,
yet water always wanders down.
Though you may plumb the depths of it,
you will not in the darkness drown.

The stream will flood our very graves
and break their binding chains apart.
So you will rise upon the waves
someday, and flow back to the heart.

River delta By NASA – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:STS61C-42-72.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11527788

We Shall Be Knit Again

To the tune ODE TO JOY:

After all the world's unravelling,
lo! we shall be knit again.
Dust that once from stars came travelling
with a brighter light shall shine.
Soul and body, joined together,
joy that never more they'll part,
but with angel choirs forever
shall rejoice the Savior's heart.

Christ, who took the flesh he gave us,
that same flesh he will renew.
He who knows our bodies' fading
all their deaths he shall undo.
Every tear drawn from our sorrow
he shall wipe from new-woke eyes
in his ever-dawning morrow,
when from every grave we rise.

Bone and sinew, skin and muscle:
hands remade we lift to him.
Long-stilled hearts begin to thunder
with the rhythm of our hymn.
Breath that we had held for ages
now at last begins to sing:
Vocal chords form heaven's praises.
We shall welcome Christ our King!

*Ezekiel’s Vision of the Valley of Dry Bones*, engraving by Gustave Doré (1866) By Gustave Doré – Doré, Gustave (1866) The Bible – With illustrations by Gustave Doré, Paris, London, New York: Cassell & Co. OCLC: 557492693., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10709534

Let Living Waters Flow!

In those days, in their thirst for water,
the people grumbled against Moses,
saying, “Why did you ever make us leave Egypt?
Was it just to have us die here of thirst
with our children and our livestock?”
So Moses cried out to the LORD,
“What shall I do with this people?
a little more and they will stone me!”
The LORD answered Moses,
“Go over there in front of the people,
along with some of the elders of Israel,
holding in your hand, as you go,
the staff with which you struck the river.
I will be standing there in front of you on the rock in Horeb.
Strike the rock, and the water will flow from it
for the people to drink.”
This Moses did, in the presence of the elders of Israel.
The place was called Massah and Meribah,
because the Israelites quarreled there
and tested the LORD, saying,
“Is the LORD in our midst or not?”
Exodus 17:3-7

To the tune LAND OF REST:

Too long in wastelands I have walked,
my heart as hard as stone.
Then come, O Savior, strike the rock:
Let living waters flow!

For I have fled from every pain;
my wounds I would not know.
But let those streams burst forth again:
Let living waters flow!

And when I cannot even weep,
as dry as dust and bone,
awake my weary heart from sleep:
Let living waters flow!

Give me again a heart of flesh
and let it beat once more.
O you who fill my lungs with breath,
let living waters flow!

Fill up the dry and thirsty ground
and make your orchards grow
where once were only jackals found:
Let living waters flow!

And I will travel ever on
by power not my own,
and by your grace I'll wait for dawn:
Let living waters flow!

*Moses Striking the Rock at Horeb*, engraving by Gustave Doré from “La Sainte Bible”, 1865 By Gustave Doré (1832–1883) – http://www.creationism.org/images/DoreBibleIllus/bExo1706Dore_MosesStrikingTheRockInHoreb.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7081523

The Song of the Prodigal

His son said to him,
‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you;
I no longer deserve to be called your son.’
But his father ordered his servants,
‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him;
put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.
Take the fattened calf and slaughter it.
Then let us celebrate with a feast,
because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again;
he was lost, and has been found.’
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

To the tune ST. THOMAS (TANTUM ERGO):

Father, I have sinned against you:
Call me no more, then, your son.
I have scattered where you gathered;
all your work I have undone.
So my life I have unravelled:
My inheritance is gone.

Father, take me as your servant;
give me but a hireling's wage.
Give me law: I shall observe it.
All I owe you, I shall pay.
I will spend my life in worship,
wear myself down in your praise.

Father, my sin cries to heaven,
yet your joyful shout resounds.
How can you call me forgiven,
say the lost one now is found?
What is this that you have given?
Finest robes now wrap me 'round!

Father, bring me to your table,
I, of all your sons the least.
Love by all my sins unshaken,
call me then into your feast.
Give me there the bread you've taken,
blessed, and broken: Let me feed.

James Tissot – *The Return of the Prodigal Son* (Le retour de l’enfant prodigue) – Brooklyn Museum By James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2006, 00.159.185_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10904523

Annunciation 2022

The slanted light through shadow falls,
and light and shadow cover me:
He brings me to his banquet hall
and spreads his banner over me.

Rejoice, O highly favored one!
The dove's voice fills our land once more:
I shall conceive and bear a son;
the young stag stands beside the door.

And so my love becomes my own—
he feeds me where the lilies bloom—
and I am ever his alone,
who fills the garden of my womb.

A circled garden, fountain sealed,
with myrrh and aloes, ever spice:
These are the fruits my love shall yield;
this is the water giving life.

But deepest waters cannot quench
the flame that in this garden swells,
for oh! my love is strong as death,
and oh! my love is fierce as hell!

His love is better far than wine,
and there is perfume in his kiss.
Behold the handmaid: He is mine,
and let it be that I am his!

*The Annunciation* in Armenian art by Toros Taronetsi, 1323 By Toros Taronatsi – Donabédian, Patrick (1987) (in French) Les arts arméniens, Paris: Mazenod, p. 277 ISBN: 2850880175., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=96543029

How Often?

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Ask and it will be given to you;
seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you.
For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds;
and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.
Which one of you would hand his son a stone
when he asked for a loaf of bread,
or a snake when he asked for a fish?
If you then, who are wicked,
know how to give good gifts to your children,
how much more will your heavenly Father give good things
to those who ask him.”
Matthew 7:7-12

How often have I asked for bread
and said I trusted you alone,
but dreamed a feast of flesh instead,
and in my hands I clutched a stone?

How often have I asked for fish
but cherished serpents in my breast?
I did not know my deepest wish,
and what I loved I could not guess.

Yet water I have ever sought,
and you have given it and more:
a father to me, O my God,
and when I knocked, an open door.

A mother in the dead of night
who came to me before I called;
infinities of hope and might
within your tender arms unfold.

And when I long for only stone,
still give to me your holy bread;
and when I call for bread alone,
fill me with every word you've said.

So show me ever more my heart
that I may learn where my love lies
and follow fast—oh, may I start!—
while yet your daylight fills the skies.