Transfigured

Jesus took Peter, James, and his brother, John,
and led them up a high mountain by themselves.
And he was transfigured before them;
his face shone like the sun
and his clothes became white as light.
Matthew 17:1-9

Today and yesterday the same,
forever always Christ,
yet here you burn with such a flame
I hardly recognize.

You are the way that led me here
to Tabor's mountain height;
you are the truth, how deep I fear;
you are this burning life.

Show me the light I'd never seen
that rises in your eyes;
show me where you have always been,
divinity disguised.

And as I watch my passing days,
my ordinary nights,
teach me to see where you still blaze
and make these moments bright.

Show me your ever-glowing spark,
and let it be a light
within the shadows of my heart
until your day dawns bright.

Now as I follow in your way,
new Tabors I will find:
You show your glory day by day,
and in my eyes it shines.

12th-century icon of the Transfiguration By Unknown author – Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai (Egypt) / K. Weitzmann: “Die Ikone”, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3859855

Unfold the Letters

The unfolding of your word gives light,
and understanding to the simple.
Psalm 119:130 (Ecumenical Grail Psalter)

You spoke, O God, and made a world
and all that dwells within:
Your voice evoked it from the void;
your joy set it aspin.
You wrote in dust that rose and heard
and smudged what you had penned.
Unfold the letters of your word:
Let there be light again.

Push back the shadows of our sight:
Once more your mercy tell
to make even our darkness bright
with light that never fails.
Teach us to read as you inscribe,
for you are writing still,
your words engraved in day and night—
and oh, the good they spell!

Then take our hands that we may trace
the letters writ in flame:
transforming sylables of grace
that burn away all shame,
the words no sorrows can erase,
nor weakness, doubt, or blame,
your love in lines of Christ's own face
and in ours, too, the same.

Candle By Arivumathi – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24728169

As a Sparrow Finds Its Shelter

“The present life of man upon earth, O King, seems to me in comparison with that time which is unknown to us like the swift flight of a sparrow through the mead-hall where you sit at supper in winter, with your Ealdormen and thanes, while the fire blazes in the midst and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest, but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter to winter again. So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.”
St. Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People

As a sparrow finds its shelter
from the raging storm outside
here amid the smoke and rafters,
guided by the fire's light,
yet it rests for but a moment—
for a moment and no more—
ere it flies out through the doorway,
from the storm into the storm,

so we all are born as sparrows,
come to light from the unknown,
and our moments fly as arrows.
Swiftly, swiftly, we are gone.
For the night outside still beckons
in the howling of the storm
with a sound that can't be reckoned:
Into dark, we fly once more.

God of light and God of shadows,
master of the shining hall,
plant this firelight in your sparrows
when we heed the stormwind's call.
When we fly from sound and fury
to the broad, unbounded night,
guide us on the homeward journey:
God of sparrows, give us light.

Venerable Bede in an illustrated manuscript, writing his Ecclesiastical History of the English People By http://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/de/bke/0047/1v – http://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/de/bke/0047/1v, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77974574

Make a Light

Thus says the LORD:
Share your bread with the hungry,
shelter the oppressed and the homeless;
clothe the naked when you see them,
and do not turn your back on your own.
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your wound shall quickly be healed;
your vindication shall go before you,
and the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer,
you shall cry for help, and he will say: Here I am!
If you remove from your midst
oppression, false accusation and malicious speech;
if you bestow your bread on the hungry
and satisfy the afflicted;
then light shall rise for you in the darkness,
and the gloom shall become for you like midday.
Isaiah 58:7-10

Make a light for us in darkness;
make a way when we are lost.
Bring us back, when we have wandered;
strike the debt, despite the cost.

You who shine as bright as noonday,
give us your unfailing light.
Let us echo all that you say,
Word who makes the darkness bright.

Fill us, Lord, when we are hungry;
shelter us beneath your cloak.
So, we learn to shelter others,
feeding them the bread you broke.

Free us from the years' oppression;
touch our eyes to see our chains.
Let us not make others wear them;
let us freely tend their pains.

Lift us from our dust and ashes,
we will fly as burning sparks.
Light our hearts with your compassion:
Make us beacons in the dark.

Not our light but yours, O Jesus;
not our love but your own heart
is the flame that lights and frees us,
shining ever in the dark.

Eerie Night By Ngphotography, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=53123868

The Years Stretch Out

For the feast of the Presentation, a song of Simeon:

The years stretch out in shadow;
the days drag on toward night.
O Father, do not let go
until I see your light.

For now I know but dimly—
what shade our life has cast!—
but keep your hand upon me
until the night is past.

The earth you made is turning,
though slow the age is takes,
so there must be a morning:
Keep me until it breaks.

And though my eyes are fading
and fail to pierce the dark,
yet keep me strongin waiting
with vision in my heart.

That what I cannot see here
I still may stumble toward.
I weaken more with each year,
but make me strong in hope.

And when I see your glory,
the light I long have known,
when mercy dawns before me,
O Father, take me home!

Simeon and the Child by Benjamin West, brown and gray washes and pencil on paper, Museum of the Shenandoah Valley, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=54050254

The Conversion of St. Paul

Saul, still breathing murderous threats against the disciples of the Lord,
went to the high priest and asked him
for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, that,
if he should find any men or women who belonged to the Way,
he might bring them back to Jerusalem in chains.
On his journey, as he was nearing Damascus,
a light from the sky suddenly flashed around him.
He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him,
“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”
He said, “Who are you, sir?”
The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.
Now get up and go into the city and you will be told what you must do.”
Acts 9:1-22

When I am breathing murder
and fury fills my days,
shine out, O Christ, and curb me!
Disturb my vivid ways!

Let light form heaven blind me
where sight has led me wrong.
O, let my darkness guide me,
my weakness make me strong.

My vision gone, give insight:
Illuminate my heart.
Then I will sing at midnight
and praise you in the dark.

Let not the morning free me:
Delay the great sunrise
until I learn to see you
and scales fall from my eyes.

O Christ, whom I had hated,
you looked on me with love,
and I, when you've remade me,
will tell the world thereof.

For you have seen my blindness
and given me new sight,
repaid my hate with kindness,
and made my darkness bright.

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

O Brightness of the Morning Star

I am the root and offspring of David, the bright morning star.”
Revelation 22:16

To the tune CONDITOR ALME SIDERUM:

O brightness of the morning star
and gleaming hope seen from afar,
arise; fulfill the ancient vow
for those who walk in darkness now.

O polestar of forgotten ways
and promise of undreamt-of days,
draw us forever close to you
through constellations strange and new.

O, guide our steps, our hearts transform
to see like you when light is gone,
for both the noonday and the night
alike lie open to your sight.

That when at last your day shall rise,
its brightness shall not hurt our eyes
once we have seen you in the dark.
O shining Christ, rise in our hearts!

So make our darkness bright as day,
our brightness as your shadow safe,
and be in light or shade our hope,
by night or noon our saving Lord. Amen.

Venus, pictured center-right, is always brighter than all other planets or stars at their maximal brightness, as seen from Earth. Jupiter is visible at the top of the image. By Brocken Inaglory – File:Venus with reflection.jpg, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5223759

Days

Let your mercy rise above us in the morning;
let compassion be a light to guide our steps.
Let our memory of you be ever dawning;
let your grace be like a sun that never sets.

As we travel on the road you lay out for us,
give us all the light we need to see the way,
and be yourself the flame that goes before us,
that in the nights we see as clear as day.

As brightly as you shine, we still will stumble;
O Savior, do not let the light go dim!
But show us to ourselves when we have crumbled,
that we may see to get back up again.

And when the darkness falls so close around us,
the nights your goodness made come softly down,
come closer still, and with your love surround us,
and shelter us where midnight peace abounds.

Sunrise over the Gulf of Mexico and Florida. Taken on 20 October 1968 from Apollo 7. By NASA – https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/apollo/40th/images/apollo_image_6.htmlDirect link to image file: https://www.nasa.gov/sites/default/files/images/337039main_pg26_as07-08-1933_full.jpgTransferred from en.wikipedia to Commons by TheDJ using CommonsHelper., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8807776

The World We Know Is Changing

When Jesus heard that John had been arrested,
he withdrew to Galilee.
He left Nazareth and went to live in Capernaum by the sea,
in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali,
that what had been said through Isaiah the prophet
might be fulfilled:
Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,
the way to the sea, beyond the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles,
the people who sit in darkness
have seen a great light,
on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death
light has arisen.
From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say,
“Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
Matthew 4:12-17

The world we know is changing;
compassion's long defeat
is shifting, rearranging
the ground beneath our feet.

Now every step's a crossroads,
and endlessly we choose
to set aside our crossloads
or bear them through the gloom.

The sky is growing dimmer,
and hope slips fast away,
but there is yet a glimmer,
a light that shows the way.

This is the night we walk in
by faith, if not by sight,
and we are made the beacons
who never can be bright.

O Christ, the sun of justice,
come strengthen our poor eyes
to see you in each other
and see your morning rise.

Come, Son of God, renewing
the ground beneath our feet.
Help us each step we're choosing
that peace and justice meet.

The Light of the World – 1853-54 By William Holman Hunt – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6452048

Breaking

The world you spoke first long ago
was broken into shards,
and it is all the world I know,
though it will break my heart.

But now you speak a different world
I cannot comprehend.
How shall it break me open, Lord,
when this old world shall end?

What shall it be, this world you speak,
where night is clear as day
that we may find the road we seek
and safely go our way?

This world you speak, what shall it be,
this breaking dawn on high
to pierce the fog of prophecy
and touch the longing eye?

This world you speak, where music sounds
upon our long-deaf ears
like fallen seeds, and breaks the ground
we watered with our tears,

what shall it be?  What shall we see,
whose eyes were closed so long,
when all those weeping silently
break into joyful song?

And in this world, what shall I be?
Shall you remake me, too?
What seeds are breaking forth in me
when you make all things new?

Oh, give me eyes to see your world
and ears to hear its song;
let day break in my heart, O Lord,
while yet the night is long!