Touch

For the Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A), combining Elijah and the still, small voice with Peter walking on water. To the tune ST. THOMAS:

Touch my ears that I may hear you,
not in thunder's raging noise;
let the humble things reveal you
in the smallest whispered voice.
Touch my ears, O Lord, and heal me:
Let me hear you and rejoice.

Touch my eyes that I may see you,
not in tempest or in flame.
Presence in my fear reveals you,
walking toward me on the waves.
Touch my eyes, O Lord, and heal me:
Let me see the hand that saves.

Touch my heart and draw it near you,
not in grandeur or in pride.
Trust, even in doubt, reveals you,
lifts me ever to your side.
Touch my heart, O Lord, and heal me:
Let me sense how grace provides.

Touch my life that I may feel you,
not in praise that I look for.
Quiet moments will reveal you,
still my restless search for more.
Touch my life, O Lord, and heal me:
Let me know you'll calm the storm.

Henry Ossawa Tanner – The Disciples See Christ Walking on the Water, c. 1907. Oil on canvas, 51.5 x 42 in. Des Moines Art Center – The Catholic Beat, Aug. 14, 2012, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20672406

Elijah Mocked the Prophets

When it was noon, Elijah taunted [the prophets of Baal]:
“Call louder, for he is a god and may be meditating,
or may have retired, or may be on a journey.
Perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.”
They called out louder and slashed themselves with swords and spears,
as was their custom, until blood gushed over them.
Noon passed and they remained in a prophetic state
until the time for offering sacrifice.
But there was not a sound;
no one answered, and no one was listening.
1 Kings 18:20-39

Elijah mocked the prophets:
“Perhaps your god's asleep.
Perhaps he's on a journey
across the fathoms deep.
Call louder, then, to rouse him
and bid your god arise
and claim the gift you slaughters
with lightning from the skies.”

But Christ upon a cushion
sleeps now amid the storm,
at ease in our confusion,
at peace in our alarm.
Elijah, cease your mocking;
bow down in awe and fear!
Though chaos sets us rocking,
the still, small voice is here.

O Son of God, awaken—
not now to call down flame,
but as our hearts are shaken
to still the wind and rain.
Not as the fire of heaven
cast down to make us bow,
but tenderly to help us,
O Christ, awaken now!

Elijah destroying the messengers of Ahaziah (illustration by Gustave Doré from the 1866 *La Sainte Bible*) – Doré’s English Bible, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10724087

For the Prophets

For the Nativity of John the Baptist.

This song is for the weird ones
with fire in their eyes
and jumbles on their seared tongues,
whose works are strange and wise.

Elijah with his anger,
who slew the priests of Baal
and burned again on Tabor
when Christ on glory called.

He trembled at the whisper
when raging storms were done
and called the hearts of fathers
back to their long-lost sons.

Or John, whose word went thund'ring,
from Jordan, far and wide,
as soft and sweet as honey
when Christ the Lamb he spied.

Who knew his own decreasing,
the raising of the dead,
Good News to poor folks preaching,
before he lost his head.

So here's to all the odd souls
whose bones'll melt like wax
if they don't speak their hot coals
or try to hold them back.

And here's to words like daggers
they drive into our hearts
to make way for the Rabbi
who pulls our chains apart.

*St. John the Baptist Preaching*, c. 1665, By Mattia Preti – The AMICA Library, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18915662

Still, Small Voice

At the mountain of God, Horeb,
Elijah came to a cave where he took shelter.
Then the LORD said to him,
“Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD;
the LORD will be passing by.”
A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains
and crushing rocks before the LORD—
but the LORD was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake—
but the LORD was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake there was fire—
but the LORD was not in the fire.
After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound.
When he heard this,
Elijah hid his face in his cloak
and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.
1 Kings 19:9A, 11-13A

Howling winds surround the mountain,
tearing root and tree apart,
rolling boulders crashing downward:
does this rage your grace impart?
God, the highest winds surmounting,
you who dwell all storms apart,
come a gently splashing fountain,
playing in the human heart.

Earthquakes rock the ground beneath us;
doubt and terror fill the air.
Can this shaking, love bequeath us?
Will it make us just and fair?
No, but should your summons reach us
in the aftermath of fear,
in that silence it will teach us,
if we will in stillness hear.

Greater far beyond all telling,
smaller than the eye can see,
you, oh Lord, all hopes excelling
shrink to our humanity.
Not by wondrous works compelling,
but by whispers—“Come to me!”—
do we find your grace indwelling,
here wherever we may be.