Category: Uncategorized

The Dreams of Joseph

For the Christmas season, to the tune AURELIA:

Though doubt and grief assail you
in dread of days to come,
though love seems all unfaithful,
yet take it to your home.
O Joseph, son of David,
they need your steadfast arms:
Fear not to welcome Mary
and keep her from all harms.

When every day's uncertain
and all is turned around,
when you are filled with worry,
take darkness as your shroud:
O Joseph, make this journey
from your ancestral ground,
for Herod's men are searching.
Let not the child be found!

When all our days are anxious
and hope is drowned in fear,
with all our Herods raging
and nightmares drawing near,
O Joseph, wise and wakeful
to words none else could hear,
help us to trust the angels
that whisper in our ears.

Someday there will be safety;
someday there will be peace
when we will hear the angel
speak comfort and relief,
O Joseph, ever faithful,
come build us space to rest
with Jesus and with Mary,
a home in Nazareth.
Dream of St Joseph, c. 1625–1630, By Gerard Seghers – Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Bilddatenbank., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4903248

That Night

To the tune STILLE NACHT (“Silent Night”):

Weeping night, birthing night,
Mary calls: mother's plight.
In her labor she wails and she moans;
with the effort she cries and she groans
while the world is made new,
while the world is made new.

Troubled night, shocking night,
shepherds quake at the sight—
Heav'n dissolves in an ocean of fire,
deafens earth with its thundering choir—
yet they rise in their fear,
yet they rise in their fear.

Questing night, gasping night,
magi reel, take to flight.
This new star upends all they have known:
journey far to the newborn king's throne,
they will set out at once, 
they will set out at once.

Breathless night, searching night,
we are called to his side:
Helpless godhead, he weeps with our tears;
word eternal steps into our years.
All our sorrows are his,
all our sorrows are his.

Aching night, longest night,
yet it ends, morning bright.
Bound in linen, Christ lies in the stone;
he will wake when his hunger has grown.
Dawn breaks over us all,
dawn breaks over us all.
By Franz Xaver Gruber – Stille-Nacht-Gesellschaft, meinbezirk.at, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=83372286

Enfleshing

Knit in inner darkness, hidden in the womb,
heaven in your body 'til it lay entombed.
Flame within the ashes, spirit in the dust,
sunlight bound in grasses, iron sheathed in rust.

Christ, you came enfleshing words no ear had heard,
heav'n and earth enmeshing in your body, Lord.
Naked at your coming under shining stars,
naked at your going, man of love and sorrows.

All you had was Eden: fingerprints in earth
wound about with linen at your bloody birth.
All you had was only flesh from start to grave,
yet for our belonging, all you had you gave.

Ash aflame and rising, dust by spirit moved:
Death itself surprising, life again you proved.
Breathe into our bodies; raise them to your height;
knit like you in darkness, fill them with your light.

If you fudge the third line of each verse, you can sing this to NOEL NOUVELET.

Sacra famiglia (1610) By Giulio Cesare Amidano – Gonnelli, Florence, 12.12.2013, lot 21 via Arcadja auction results, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69611179

The Stable

I have not swept the stable—
the whole place reeks of shit—
instead, I filled the table;
will you not come and sit?

I haven't mucked the stalls out,
but have a room prepared.
Will you not lay your cross down
and sit beside me there?

And see: A fire I kindled;
come rest beside the hearth—
You go where all's untended
and sit there in the dark.

Not where the light is glowing,
not where the wine runs red,
but where the ox is lowing:
It's there you lay your head.

What I'd cast off, you've chosen,
the filth that I would hide.
You throw the doors wide open
and nestle down inside.

Then like an infant wailing,
you call me through the night
there, where your love unfailing
is burning clear and bright.
Nativity at Night, by Geertgen tot Sint Jans, c. 1490 – National Gallery, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=37018624

Emptying

[Christ Jesus], though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.

Philippians 2:6-8
See now, the days are counting down
and, oh, the time is drawing near:
The Virgin's belly waxes round,
and soon the Savior will appear.

For Christ is emptying himself
to fill his mother's empty womb.
He binds his godhead into flesh,
and someday it shall fill the tomb.

Then he shall go to empty hell
and make of death an empty threat.
And then no tongue on earth shall tell
the fullness of his infant breath.

Then at the end, when all is done
and heaven spills out o'er the world,
the king of glory shall return:
Across the void, his sign unfurls.

Christ Jesus, fill our empty hearts
that we may bear you in our lives:
Then light shall fill our empty dark
and all our midnights shall be bright.

O come, as once you came to earth—
our empty hands embrace your own—
then we shall shine as, at your birth,
the hosts of heaven sang and shone.
The Angel appearing to the Shepherds, fresco of the 12th century, Basilica of San Isidoro, León By Unknown author – Web Gallery of Art:   Image  Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15611393

Dust Magnificat

My soul must magnify the Lord
as he shrinks down, a speck of dust
that floats on sunlight to the floor,
as nothing as the rest of us.

How can this be, that he should live
as near as dust to dust is near?
Yet I shall give what I can give:
a home among the dust motes here.

And all the motes shall praise my name,
not for myself—no dust can bear
the weight of glory's endless flame—
but for the dust my dust shall bear:

As grit within the tyrant's eye
he grinds blind justice into gaze;
a spark upon the wind, he flies
to set the mighty woods ablaze;

a tiny seed ground into flour,
he fills the hungry with his bread;
a grain of sand that fills the hour,
he throws the powerful in dread.

Yes, even now the Lord Most High
remembers what he said to us,
and on the way to paradise
he raises up a cloud of dust.
Dust dancing in the sunlight in an old riding hall By E.mil.mil – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36177296 OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

How Can It Be? (Elizabeth’s Song)

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, 

“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: 39-45
How can it be, in these late days,
that you should visit here?
That something in me leaps in praise
to know you drawing near?

How can it be, O living Lord,
though I had given up,
you now fulfill your ancient word
and fill the empty cup?

That after all my long despair,
O God, how can it be
you tear away the earthly veil
and come to dwell with me?

That you should fill me with your life
and fill my mouth with song,
and in my heart your wellsprings rise
where drought had reigned so long?

Now shall the barren places bloom,
the deserts harvest joys,
now you have filled the inner room
and freed the muted voice!

I have no words to speak of this
but these: How can it be?
I know not how, but so it is:
My Lord has come to me!
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

Emmanuel

We wait for you, Emmanuel,
who in the shadowed valley dwell
and in our vigil count the days
until you meet our longing gaze.
	Emmanuel, O come, O come,
	and make with us your heav'nly home.

We ache for you, Emmanuel,
as all your maddened prophets tell.
We bleed from all our hidden wounds:
Reveal them by your coming soon.
	Emmanuel, etc.

We look for you, Emmanuel,
the light that on our Eden fell
and filled us when we walked with God:
Shine now upon our barren sod.
	Emmanuel, etc.

We thirst for you, Emmanuel,
O spring unbound by any well,
but rising up from every stone
you fill the deserts of our souls.
	Emmanuel, etc.

Now come to us, Emmanuel,
and open wide our prison cells.
Forgive our debts and dry our tears:
O root of hope, come blossom here!
	Emmanuel, etc.
Grand O doré, initiale By Unknown author – internet, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9385867

Breaking

The world you spoke first long ago
was broken into shards,
and it is all the world I know,
though it will break my heart.

But now you speak a different world
I cannot comprehend.
How shall it break me open, Lord,
when this old world shall end?

What shall it be, this world you speak,
where night is clear as day
that we may find the road we seek
and safely go our way?

This world you speak, what shall it be,
this breaking dawn on high
to pierce the fog of prophecy
and touch the longing eye?

This world you speak, where music sounds
upon our long-deaf ears
like fallen seeds, and breaks the ground
we watered with our tears,

what shall it be?  What shall we see,
whose eyes were closed so long,
when all those weeping silently
break into joyful song?

And in this world, what shall I be?
Shall you remake me, too?
What seeds are breaking forth in me
when you make all things new?

Oh, give me eyes to see your world
and ears to hear its song;
let day break in my heart, O Lord,
while yet the night is long!
Am Schloßtor, signiert F. Knab, Öl auf Leinwand, 50 x 40 cm By Ferdinand Knab – http://www.dorotheum.com/, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=49335372

The Winnower Is Coming Soon

John answered them all, saying, 

“I am baptizing you with water,

but one mightier than I is coming.

I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals.

He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.

His winnowing fan is in his hand to clear his threshing floor

and to gather the wheat into his barn, 

but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Luke 3:10-18
The winnower is coming soon;
the wind is in his hand
to blow away the shades of doom.
Who in that wind can stand?

But oh, my chaff shall catch the air
and pull me to the fire,
where I shall burn for years and years
in flames that never die.

The cloak that billows at my back
shall drag me like a sail
unless I take it down and tack,
then kneel and pray and bail.

Where I have two, let me give one
and strip my chaff away
before the thresher's work is done
and sunset swallows day.

Though as I lie upon his floor,
I dare not kiss his feet,
yet where he walks is mercy sure.
There peace and justice meet.

So I may yet be gathered up, 
unworthy of his barn,
if mercy finishes the job
and brings me to his arms.
Medieval image of threshing men By Unknown Miniaturist, French (active c. 1455 in Paris) – Web Gallery of Art:   Image  Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15498541