Exiled Hearts

Thus says the LORD:
   Shout with joy for Jacob,
       exult at the head of the nations;
       proclaim your praise and say:
   The LORD has delivered his people,
       the remnant of Israel.
   Behold, I will bring them back
       from the land of the north;
   I will gather them from the ends of the world,
       with the blind and the lame in their midst,
   the mothers and those with child;
       they shall return as an immense throng.
   They departed in tears,
       but I will console them and guide them;
   I will lead them to brooks of water,
       on a level road, so that none shall stumble.
   For I am a father to Israel,
       Ephraim is my first-born.
—Jeremiah 31:7-9

The Lord will come, and it will not be long:
He comes at last to lead the exiles home—
See how they follow him, a joyous throng
come singing on a smooth and level road.

He leads them through the parting of the seas:
The limping ones, the old, the deaf, the blind,
the fearful hearts come after him with ease—
All those we thought we had to leave behind.

For we had fallen to the ways of strength,
as captives to the powers we desired.
How could the feeble walk the desert's length?
How would the weak do then what was required?

We did not fathom how the love divine
would shrink himself to fit our helplessness;
we did not understand our God's design
to show his glory in our weaknesses.

But so it was, and it shall be again:
Though we have wandered, he will bring us back.
We were cast out, but he will lead us in
and fill up with himself all that we lack.

Then bring to him your weak and foolish heart;
fear not to show what brings you to your knees
and say to his, “My child, what do you want?”
“O Son of David, Lord, I want to see!”

Healing of the blind man of Jericho By Unknown author – Codex Egberti, Fol 31, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8096753

Damascus

I'm not going to Damascus;
I won't see a blinding light,
but you'll knock me on my ass yet
for the scales upon my eyes.

I'll be sitting by the roadside
like a beggar, blind and deaf,
when you've turned my day to soul's night,
shown me I have nothing left.

Though I set your praise resounding,
still I haven't got my sight.
O my shepherd, you have found me,
but you cannot leave me blind.

When you take what I hold sacred,
you will tear it all apart.
Write a truer word to save me
on the tablet of my heart.

As my blood runs through the letters
it will fill my ears and eyes.
I will see the whole world better
when you've given me my sight.

Though I'm lost and I have fallen,
though I cannot find my way,
let the light come when you call it.
Let me see your dawning day.

Conversion on the Way to Damascus, Caravaggio (c.1600-1) – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219516

Not As We See

Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard this
and said to him, “Surely we are not also blind, are we?”
Jesus said to them,
“If you were blind, you would have no sin;
but now you are saying, ‘We see,’ so your sin remains.
John 9:1-41

Not as we see do you see us,
we who always look at sin.
You look at the heart, O Jesus,
seeing all that lies within.

You, who worked in the beginning,
formed our eyes to see your face.
Work in us again, Redeemer:
We have lost the light of grace.

Squinting at your great creation
we see only spit and dust.
These you take, O Incarnation,
healing all that's blind in us.

Where we see but muck or beauty,
not the substance underneath,
come to us, O Word, refuting
all our willful disbelief.

Let us see as you have seen us
when you look beneath our skin:
children of the Father's goodness,
sinning, and yet more than sin.

You who made the eyes, restore them;
earth and water shape anew
so to see who stands before them:
Son of Man, let us see you.

Healing the blind who was blinded since birth By Pehr Hörberg – National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=97998397

Seeing

Jesus told his disciples a parable,
“Can a blind person guide a blind person?
Will not both fall into a pit?
No disciple is superior to the teacher;
but when fully trained,
every disciple will be like his teacher.
Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye,
but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?
How can you say to your brother,
‘Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,’
when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye?
You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first;
then you will see clearly
to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.”
Luke 6:39-45

O God, who from high heaven gazes down,
all things to your observant gaze are shown:
The mountain peaks, the trenches most profound,
and all of humankind by you are known.

I cannot see myself, perceiving Lord;
I cannot see the beam that fills my eye,
but you who healed the blind with but a word,
you see, and you alone can give me sight.

Let me not reach to guide another's way—
no, take my hand and lead me in your own.
The shadows I have seen lead me astray:
Send out your light and show me where to go.

Then when my eyes are healed, my vision clear,
oh, then shall I see others as you see
and with your light reach out to draw them near,
as you in endless mercy have drawn me.

By mogelijk B. Picart, Jan Luyken of G. Hoet – Nederlands Bijbel Genootschap, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8368894

Damascus Road

For the feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul. To the tune PASSION CHORALE:

“Why do you persecute me?”
a voice from somewhere sounds;
unsettling and unsoothing,
a blinding light surrounds.
Lord, bring us to that moment,
confounding all we know,
renewing us in conscience:
our own Damascus road.

We cannot know our blindness
while we have eyes to see,
the depths of our unkindness
'til we are in the deeps.
Let mercy's waves wash o'er us;
from death we may yet rise
and seek the light before us
as scales fall from our eyes.

The men and women shackled
in chains that we have forged,
the children left abandoned:
Help us to free them, Lord.
For they are you, O Savior,
imprisoned by our ways.
Come blind our hearts to hatred
to see your endless day.

The conversion of St Paul by Caravaggio. Church of Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome Photo By Alvesgaspar – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44143233

What Is This Light?

What is this light that dawns at last
to pierce my eyes and daze my mind?
These sharpened shadows that it casts
as fleeing darkness falls behind?

Not gone—the night is never gone—
but it retreats before the day,
and I, that had forgotten dawn,
am blind and helpless in its rays.

Come, Lord, who led me through the dark;
come, angels that around me camp:
Do not forsake this lifted heart,
but bear me still the lighted lamp!

My stumblings shall uncovered be;
my faults laid open to the sky.
No more shall darkness comfort me—
walk with me while the sun is high!

Lord, touch my eyes and strengthen them
to bear the vision of the day,
to see the New Jerusalem,
though I will struggle on the way.

And if I cannot make it there,
then bear me as your bore the cross
until I come, your light to share
through every night and every loss.

Sculpture “Jesus healing blind Bartimaeus” by Johann Heinrich Stöver, 1861. St John’s Church, Erbach, Rheingau, Hesse, Germany. Photo By Marion Halft – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19541671

Shepherd of My Weary Soul

Inspired by Good Shepherd Sunday falling in the middle of everything still being difficult. Maybe wouldn’t work for actually singing during Mass on Good Shepherd Sunday, but in the right circumstances, it could. More appropriate for difficult times or night prayer. To the tune HEINLEIN (“From the Depths We Cry to Thee”):

Shepherd of my weary soul,
see me safely through the night.
Far away from safety's fold, 
still I seek your comfort bright.

Shepherd, give me eyes to see
stars, though light cannot be found,
signs that show you're leading me,
though my fears yet here abound.

Give me ears to hear your voice
calling me throughout the night,
courage for each darkened choice—
let me hear and choose aright!

Though my heart is worn and cold,
kindle me with your bright spark.
Guide my steps on ways untold,
though I walk them in the dark.

Lord, I cannot see your face;
let me sightless be content,
blindly groping through your grace 
still to follow where you went.

If the sun should never rise,
let me follow ever on,
thankful that you made my eyes
though they may not see the dawn.