I Cannot Keep Awake

“Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy
from carousing and drunkenness
and the anxieties of daily life,
and that day catch you by surprise like a trap.
For that day will assault everyone
who lives on the face of the earth.
Be vigilant at all times
and pray that you have the strength
to escape the tribulations that are imminent
and to stand before the Son of Man.”
—Luke 21:25-28, 34-36

My eyes will not stay open;
I cannot keep awake,
but trust what you have spoken
that swiftly comes the day

when you will come restoring,
come bringing exiles home.
I may not be here for it,
but I wait, even so.

The memories we carry,
old sorrows we still weep
like seeds the winter buried,
not dead but fast asleep,

with Jesse's stump forgotten
yet watered by the dew—
all that we lost shall blossom,
becoming something new.

The fruit we stole in Eden
and Cain's rejected sheaves,
their shoots will grow like weeds then
into your mercy's feast.

And if I cannot see it,
if I am buried deep,
yet you will come, Redeemer,
to wake me from my sleep.

Detail of Jesse from the Stained Glass window of All Saints Church, Hove, Sussex. England, Photo By Malcolmlow, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=64575403

Come All Whose Hearts

Thus says the LORD:
Say to those whose hearts are frightened:
Be strong, fear not!
Here is your God,
he comes with vindication;
with divine recompense
he comes to save you.
Then will the eyes of the blind be opened,
the ears of the deaf be cleared;
then will the lame leap like a stag,
then the tongue of the mute will sing.
Streams will burst forth in the desert,
and rivers in the steppe.
The burning sands will become pools,
and the thirsty ground, springs of water.
—Isaiah 35:4-7a

Come all whose hearts are frightened
and blinded by their tears,
for Christ the dawn arising
like day is drawing near,
and you who sit within the dark
will see, at last, the brightest spark.

Come all whose hearts are muted
by this world's angry noise,
for Christ, in our confusion,
speaks out, a still, small voice.
You've kept your silence for so long,
but you will raise the joyful song.

Come all whose hearts are burning,
are withered in their drought,
for Christ, our deepest yearning,
splits heaven and pours down.
The living water, gentle rain,
will bring you back to life again.

Come all whose hearts are broken—
though no step can you make—
for Christ, the Word, is spoken
and meets you on the way.
He makes our brokenness his own,
and all the wounded shall be whole.

Desna river, feeder of the Southern Bug, at dawn. Ukraine, Vinnytsia Raion By George Chernilevsky – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=82439234

Hungered

The Lord, from heaven's vistas,

has cast his eye down low—

uncrossable the distance

except by God alone—



to look upon the lowly

and gather all their tears

to water something holy,

a harvest for the years.



For he who sees the evil

devour his own as bread

has come to spare his people.

He sows himself instead.



A seed within the furrow,

a star within the night,

he shall be bread tomorrow,

the nurture of our life.



The wicked shall devour him

as they consume the poor,

and they will fall down pow'rless,

and death shall be no more.



And all who've ever hungered

at last shall eat their fill,

for Christ grows up among us,

and all shall be made well.

Christ Pantocrator By Unknown author – Unknown source, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5820582

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