Exodus

You come now to the strand:
The sea before you crawls,
and though you cling to your homeland,
another kingdom calls.

Your feet, already wet,
inch toward the farther shore.
You are a creature of the depths
you've never known before.

You try to dig right in,
to grip the gritty sand,
but each wave slipping back again
pulls home out of your hands.

Let go; O love, let go.
This Egypt is not yours.
You stand now on the Red Sea road,
with only one way forward:

through sorrow and through pain.
They will not stand like walls,
but plunge you in the heaving main.
You cannot swim at all.

They only promise this,
that whispers in the tide:
Beyond the sea, beyond abyss,
there is another side.

Crossing of the Red Sea By Nicolas Poussin – http://www.1st-art-gallery.com/Nicolas-Poussin/The-Crossing-Of-The-Red-Sea,-C.1634.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10289613

Mother

From Grace Hamman’s Jesus Through Medieval Eyes, the chapter on Christ as Mother. For Holy Week:

As Eve cried out in labor,
who bore the curse and Cain,
and wept again for Abel,
so you bear us in pain.

The body gaping open,
the wound of our first sin,
brings healing through the broken—
and new life enters in.

You walked the earth our brother,
formed with us of the dirt.
Now on the cross as mother,
your labor gives us birth

of water and the Spirit,
of holiness and blood.
The sin that we inherit
is drowned out in your flood.

Your body is out birthplace;
your sorrow is our hope.
O firstfruits of our dead race,
your life becomes our hope.

Your wounds O Lord, our shelter:
the shadow of your wings.
The cleft rock is our refuge,
O mother of all things!

The Birth of Ecclesia, fol. 2v (detail), ONB Han. Cod. 2554, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna. Made in Paris, 1225–49.

The 1st Station: Jesus Is Condemned

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

“Behold the man!” So Pilate cries;
we turn and lift our jaded eyes
to look upon our king
now crowned with thorn, condemned to die.
We hail him, shouting, “Crucify
the maker of all things!

“No king but Caesar will we have,
no heaven but an open grave.
Barabbas shall go free!”
The ancient yoke we have cast off:
Christ bows his head to show his love.
The Pasch he shall complete.

He goes as prophets had foretold,
the road before him from of old.
He goes, the Great Amen.
And we, the lambs his arm enfolds,
the people that his might upholds,
will wash our hands again.

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,
have mercy on us.

By Antonio Ciseri – http://www.most-famous-paintings.org/Ecce-Homo-large.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10356430 By Antonio Ciseri – http://www.most-famous-paintings.org/Ecce-Homo-large.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10356430

Behold the Wood

Behold the wood on which was hung
the thief who comes at night.
Behold the thieves he dwelt among:
My Lord and God! we cry.

The throne whereon the wounded king
inaugurates his reign,
that every inch of punctured skin
now winces at his pain:

We all have held or dragged those limbs
since Eden spat us out 
to build this throne express for him,
to weave his wondrous crown,

and we have knelt there at his feet
and wiped them with our hair
in pity for the wounded thief
who came our grief to bear,

for, oh!, our shoulders know the weight
of what cannot be borne,
as every bent knee rises straight
to bear it up once more.

But even this he has redeemed,
this endless weight of wood.
The fallen seed lifts up the tree,
and he shall bear us, too,

L-Kreuz Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=402182

Judases

For Good Friday:

I dipped my hand into the dish
and took the bread you gave.
I pledged my faith to you in this,
and still I turned away.

I took your name upon my tongue
and knew it was divine.
I meant to make it ceaseless song,
then spilled it like sour wine.

But now your bread to acid turns;
my silver coins corrode;
the very bones within me burn:
I must pay what is owed.

They say that alms atone for sin,
but coins will not suffice.
O Master, may I mercy win?
Is there some sacrifice?

And if there is no grace for me,
if I must melt like wax
let pity drown me in its deeps:
Oblivion I ask.

Have mercy on the treacherous,
if such a thing can be.
If there's no hope for Judases,
then there is none for me.

Das Gewissen von Nikolai Nikolajewitsch Ge (1891) By Nikolai Ge – 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=151431

End

For Good Friday:

The kiss that is love's mockery;
men in a garden, armed;
the night-crow of the cockerel;
the rending of the heart:

The road that starts from Eden
and opens up the sea
to still the heart's red beating
will end on Calvary.

And we will stand there watching,
full drunk on our own tears,
while “Lema sabachthani?”
falls only on deaf ears.

The sky has turned to midnight
while yet the sun's at noon,
and mothers swaddle infants
to lay them in the tomb,

for life itself is dying
and light itself burns out.
The Word of God is silenced,
and oh, the stones cry out!

Icon of the Crucifixion, 16th century, by Theophanes the Cretan (Stavronikita Monastery, Mount Athos) By Theophanes the Cretan – Holy Monastery of Stavronikita, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1288231

Annunciation 2023

For these readings:

As deep as the nether world
and as high as the sky,
here in her body curled
and hid from all eyes,

the Word that spoke everything,
all that is, in six days,
as silent as angels' wings
in her waters plays.

He vibrates to hear her now,
her heart and her voice,
the maid to whom angels bow
and sing out, “Rejoice!”

As all earth will tremble soon,
feel him flutter inside,
when darkness shall come at noon
and graves open wide:

So shall the world groan with her
when the moment draws near.
The Word will cry out for her
in blood and in tears.

Alla 18. Esposizione Biennale Internazionale di Arte del 1932 è presente con otto opere, tra cui l’Annunciazione in un Tempio d’Aria esempio di Arte Sacra e Futurismo. By Mlemmi – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=113266814

When Judas Turned

When Judas turned and fled
to hide himself in hell
for he your guiltless blood had shed,
you followed where he fell.

He cast his prize away,
cast out by those he served,
and cast himself into the flame,
some justice then to serve.

You cast all heav'n aside
and rushed into the tomb.
When your disciple left your side,
you sought him in the gloom.

When Judas climbed the tree
from which his rope was hung,
he plunged in dark eternity
when from the branch he swung.

So you climbed up as high,
hung from a tree as well.
In answer to the sinners' cry,
you plunged yourself in hell.

So now, O Christ of love,
look down, look down on me.
As lightning striking from above,
drop down, drop down with me.

Come save all Judases
who fly from you in shame.
Fulfill what every prophet says,
the promise of your name.

Das Gewissen von Nikolai Nikolajewitsch Ge (1891) – 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=151431

The Song of Judas

Can any water found on earth
or in the boundless sky
wash off the mark, wipe out the curse
that sent my friend to die?
He stooped to wash me of the dirt;
I lifted him on high!

What stream could ever wash me clean,
what spring renew me now?
What I have done, what I have been,
what grace relieve, and how?
When all the world my sin has seen:
my Savior, beaten, bowed.

Let heaven's river overflow
and deep to deeper call.
Too well my sin the heavens know—
then let their torrents fall!
I'll in their waves and breakers go
and sink beneath them all.

Come, heaven, in your mercy drown
the heart that can no more!
Come, send your deluge crashing down
as no flood known before,
on all below that thorny crown,
oh, let the waters pour!

In the Church of St John the Baptist, Yeovil, one stained glass window depicts Judas with a black halo. Photo By GadgetSteve – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=41437843

The Gift

Through you, my Christ, all things were made:
You caused the very dust,
paved it with grasses' fragile blades,
and out of it dug us.

We came to be at your command,
set stirring by your breath.
All that we have is from your hand,
all things except our death.

All else is yours already, Lord;
we've nothing of our own
except the keen edge of the sword,
the blunt force of the stone.

The bitten apple taught us these,
and on their wings we fly.
The makers of mortalities,
we tempted you to try:

“If you would claim us for yourself
and truly rule in all,
come down, O God, to taste our death
and plummet through our fall.”

So, wonder of all worlds, you did.
You stooped, as falcons dive:
in mortal flesh your godhead hid,
your spirit bound in gyves.

You took the gift we offered you—
no mortal can say how.
You made our only making new,
and at your name we bow

for you, O Son of God, you died
and broke what we had graved.
The sword has keened; the stones have cried,
for you our death have braved.