We Give You Thanks

For the mercies of the morning
stretching out into the day;
for the sunset westward falling
and the evening on its way;
for the stillness of the midnight;
for the ever-changing moon;
for the breaking of the dawnlight
and the morning coming soon,
	O God, we give you thanks.

For the planting and the growing;
for the sunlight and the rain;
for the sprouting and the growing
and the harvest of the grain
making gifts your people bring you;
for the table that you spread;
for the feasting in the kingdom
where your children all are fed,
	O God we give you thanks.

For the hungry and the thirsty;
for the captive and the free;
for the blind man crying “Mercy!”
saying, “Lord, I want to see”;
for the ones who are forgiving
as they, too, have been forgiv'n;
for the dead and for the living;
for the sinners welcomed in,
	O God, we give you thanks.

For the graces as we gather
and the bounty that we bless;
for the seasons and the sabbaths
and the sweetnesses of rest;
for the goodness of our labors;
for the fruits of earth and vine;
for the strangers now made neighbors
as we share the bread and wine,
	O God, we give you thanks.

Poster of cornucopia for California By http://www.library.ca.gov/calhist/images/big/cornucopia.gif, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=751696

Blunder

Jesus said to the crowds:
“I am the living bread that came down from heaven;
whoever eats this bread will live forever;
and the bread that I will give
is my flesh for the life of the world.”
–John 6:51-58

How could the Maker blunder,
who shaped us from the earth?
We should have been a wonder—
his fingers twitched and jerked,
or something broke asunder
and left us bent, besmirched,
for we have always hungered
and evermore shall thirst.

But nothing we have eaten
has left us satisfied,
for, oh, how we have feasted!
And, oh, how we have died.
We lost the fruits of Eden,
and now how shall we find
the end of endless needing
that eats us from inside?

In you alone, O Savior,
who did not spurn our need,
but came, like us, to break here,
and came, like us, to bleed.
You know the bread we're craving;
we beg true food, true drink.
And you, who have its savor,
you bid us take and eat.

German or South Netherlandish; Relief; Sculpture-Stone By This file was donated to Wikimedia Commons as part of a project by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. See the Image and Data Resources Open Access Policy, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=60870093

Loaves

All I have is just a little bit of bread;
all I bring you is a couple bites of fish.
This is nothing to the need that must be fed,
but take it, and do with it what you wish.

When you take what I have given, I will sing.
When you break what I have worked for, I will pray.
I will not hold back—I'll bring you everything.
All I have, O God, is only what you gave.

When the little that is mine becomes your own,
like this little bread and wine that you have blessed,
all the miracles in every seed we've sown
they blossom, Lord, and we become your guests.

If you will it, bless the fish and bless the loaves.
Take the crumbled pieces; scatter them like seeds
so to feed our souls and feed our bodies both,
and bless the harvest even from the weeds.

Loaves and fish, painting from the Catacomb of Callixtus. Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=566678

Same

A table song for enemies:

O Christ, the Son of God,
have mercy on us all.
Alike you drew us from the mud;
alike to death we fall.

And all alike we sin:
Before your gaze we stand,
marked by the blood of kith and kin,
with weapons in our hands.

Have mercy on us, Lord,
who all alike are lost,
and teach us to lay down our swords
and take, each one, our cross.

To follow where you led,
not just to Calvary,
but sitting where you broke the bread
to feed your enemy.

For we are all still dust,
in triumph or in shame;
as one we share an equal thirst.
Our hunger is the same.

Then let us break your bread
and share in it as one.
As one by mercy we are fed,
within your kingdom come.

Last Supper. Russian icon By Anonimous – http://www.sedmitza.ru/ index.html?did=32500, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3071693

Feast

Now thus says the LORD of hosts:
Consider your ways!
You have sown much, but have brought in little;
you have eaten, but have not been satisfied;
You have drunk, but have not been exhilarated;
have clothed yourselves, but not been warmed;
And whoever earned wages
earned them for a bag with holes in it.
Haggai 1:1-8

You made this world to be our feast,
created and laid down in love,
and told your children, come and eat—
We did, and oh, what have we done?

We took and ate, but hunger grew
and burned unceasing in our flesh,
for what we took was not of you,
and all our feasting turned to ash

We planted, but we grew no grain;
we've eaten, but we hunger still.
Our endless labor brings no gain,
our hearthfire cannot warm the chill.

We drink, but cannot lift our hearts;
our gold has nothing good to buy.
There is no end to our false starts;
our thirst is never satisfied.

But all creation is your feast:
We walk the table you have set.
You made us for this eucharist;
you made us for your gift of bread.

Teach us, O Lord, to feast again:
Give us the water that is life.
Give us the voice to say Amen
to all that truly satisfies.

Floris Claesz. van Dyck 001 By Floris van Dyck – 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=150586

The Older Brother

Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what this might mean. The servant said to him, ‘Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him. He said to his father in reply, ‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf.’ He said to him, ‘My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’”
Luke 15:25-32

Should I devour your life as well,
as he has all these years?
Would you come running to me then
and shed these joyful tears?

I culled no fatling from your herd,
no firstling from your stall,
and thought to love was to be starved,
if I was loved at all.

Ah, yes, he has come back to life,
so you call for a feast.
Is that is?  Do I have to die
for you to run to me?

I tasted not one crumb of you
and hoped you would be proud,
while in his fire you were consumed
and wept to put it out.

Then strike the flint and set the flame:
My love is burning, too.
Half of the welcome feast I claim,
I who have stayed with you.

Half of the bread you break is mine.
If all your love is feast,
then pour me out the dregs of wine,
for I will sit and eat

Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son 1662–1669 (Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg) By Rembrandt – 5QFIEhic3owZ-A — Google Arts & Culture, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22353933

Table Song For Exiles

As you broke bread in Nazareth
before your desert road,
O Christ incarnate, bone and breath,
I long to taste my home.
The tables where I learned to eat,
to listen and to talk,
they held the bread of finest wheat
and honey from the rock.

The tears that fill your water jars,
now let them be transformed:
Pour out the wine that cheers my heart
in memory and hope.
Give me the bread of earthly love,
the flavors I have known,
and let it be the savor of
my everlasting home.

If I forget Jerusalem—
O Lord, if I forget,
remind me of myself again
in every taste of bread,
and let it tell me of the home
where you have made a place,
where every tribe and tongue is known,
and every feast is grace.

By Sapp0512 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=113655277

Foes

O Shepherd, set your table
in sight of all my foes;
break for us all the same bread,
as each cup overflows
with pardon for the sinner
and healing for the sick.
O, let me drink forgiveness,
and heal me where I sit.

For where you go, I follow,
but I have fallen, too—
my prayers and praises hollow,
betrayed by what I do.
You pour the cup of mercy
and let me drink it dry,
but all of us are thirsting
beneath the desert sky.

Give us the bread we ache for,
let mercy's waters flow
before we reach the shadow
where each of us must go:
the pilgrim bread unleavened,
the blessed wine we take,
and every crumb is heaven,
and every sip is grace.

A Kremikovtsi Monastery fresco (15th century) depicting the Last Supper celebrated by Jesus and his disciples. The early Christians too would have celebrated this meal to commemorate Jesus’ death and subsequent resurrection. By Edal Anton Lefterov – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15129262

Come, Sojourners and Strangers

Mashing up Ephesians 2, Psalm 87, and a few other things:

Come, sojourners and strangers
who pass through Zion's gate,
and sit down at the table:
Our welcome here awaits.

For Christ has torn the heavens
to sink into our deaths;
he gives himself, unleavened,
to us as broken bread.

Sit down to all he gives you,
for he prepared this feast.
Sit down to him, he bids you,
and let him wash your feet.

Then, baptized in his dying,
we rise into his life
and he, the grace supplying,
takes us to be his bride.

And we who had been outcasts
are honored at this feast.
Christ lays himself in our hands
and tells us, Take and eat.

We are exiles no longer
but citizens in him
who makes our shelter stronger
and comes to dwell within.

Marriage at Cana, 1561, By Jacopo Tintoretto – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15542127

Here and Now

A Eucharistic hymn, to the tune TALLIS’ CANON:

As once you walked in Nazareth
or on the shores of Galilee,
so you have come in bone and breath,
O living Christ, to walk with me.

They saw you in Jerusalem
and turned away or followed you.
They worshipped you in Bethlehem;
I cannot see, but worship, too.

For you, from all eternity
the Word of God, yet here and now,
have come again as God-with-me:
I am your temple in this hour.

You hide within these fragile crumbs;
invincible, you crumble here.
And in the shadows of the cup,
invisible, you still draw near.

The earth is as a grain of sand
you hold in being, Christ my Lord,
yet here I hold you in my hand
as Mary held you long before.

As someday we'll see face to face,
I seem to see you with my heart
and beg you give me now the grace
to love you here, my Lord and God!