I Have Been the One

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 15:1-3, 11-32

I have been he demanding
my share of all you have,
entreating—no, commanding;
you have been he who gave.
Give me what I'll inherit:
I take the money 'n' run
No, love would never dare it,
but I have been the one.

And I have been the angered,
outraged on your behalf
that for the proud and thankless
you killed the fatted calf.
How can you be so blind as
to ignore what I have done?
How can you not despise him?
Yes, I have been the one.

But I have been forgiven 
again and yet again.
You, Father, are forgiving 
of all that I have been.
You are the one who sought me
in every place I'd run.
From death itself you brought me
always to be your son.

Return of the Prodigal Son By Rembrandt – Hermitage Torrent (.torrent with info-hash), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7490475

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

It Makes No Sense

Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to Jesus,
but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying,
“This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
So to them he addressed this parable.
“What man among you having a hundred sheep and losing one of them
would not leave the ninety-nine in the desert
and go after the lost one until he finds it?
And when he does find it,
he sets it on his shoulders with great joy
and, upon his arrival home,
he calls together his friends and neighbors and says to them,
‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’
I tell you, in just the same way
there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents
than over ninety-nine righteous people
who have no need of repentance.
Luke 15:1-32

It makes no sense to go,
to leave your ninety-nine
and search the desert high and low,
one straying sheep to find,

to leave your treasures there
untended in the fold
and wander God-alone-knows-where
one tarnished coin to hold.

All reason cried out, “Stop!”
Obsession drives you thus
to fill and overfill the cup
and pour out more for us.

Why would you do this, Lord?
Why leave a world you'd won
and risk it all to gain still more?
Why break yourself for one?

Would any do the same?
O Savior, let it be
that someone senseless, in God's name,
would find and rescue me!

Though I cannot repay
or even comprehend
the love that tracks my wand'ring way,
oh, find me still! Amen.

James Tissot – *The Good Shepherd* (Le bon pasteur) – Brooklyn Museum – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2007, 00.159.106_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195949

The Song of the Prodigal

His son said to him,
‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you;
I no longer deserve to be called your son.’
But his father ordered his servants,
‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him;
put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.
Take the fattened calf and slaughter it.
Then let us celebrate with a feast,
because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again;
he was lost, and has been found.’
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

To the tune ST. THOMAS (TANTUM ERGO):

Father, I have sinned against you:
Call me no more, then, your son.
I have scattered where you gathered;
all your work I have undone.
So my life I have unravelled:
My inheritance is gone.

Father, take me as your servant;
give me but a hireling's wage.
Give me law: I shall observe it.
All I owe you, I shall pay.
I will spend my life in worship,
wear myself down in your praise.

Father, my sin cries to heaven,
yet your joyful shout resounds.
How can you call me forgiven,
say the lost one now is found?
What is this that you have given?
Finest robes now wrap me 'round!

Father, bring me to your table,
I, of all your sons the least.
Love by all my sins unshaken,
call me then into your feast.
Give me there the bread you've taken,
blessed, and broken: Let me feed.

James Tissot – *The Return of the Prodigal Son* (Le retour de l’enfant prodigue) – Brooklyn Museum By James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2006, 00.159.185_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10904523

Lost Coins

“Or what woman having ten coins and losing one
would not light a lamp and sweep the house,
searching carefully until she finds it?
And when she does find it,
she calls together her friends and neighbors
and says to them,
‘Rejoice with me because I have found the coin that I lost.’
In just the same way, I tell you,
there will be rejoicing among the angels of God
over one sinner who repents.”
Luke 15:1-10

To the tune NETTLETON.

Come, you steward of the lost coins
and the pennies in the street,
cast away for all their alloys,
left unheeded at our feet.
Come and claim these worthless tokens;
let not one of them be lost!
They will eat the bread you've broken;
they will shine with all your host.

Search the house and sweep the corners
'til the last of them is found.
Go and seek beyond our borders,
where they lie just out of bounds.
Gather all that we have scattered
in our quest for pow'r and might,
all who never seem to matter:
They are precious in your sight.

Gather all the Father gave you,
each a treasure past all price.
All your dimes and pennies praise you:
On the last day, they shall rise.
In the time of vindication,
they shall dart about like sparks,
when the light of your salvation
fin'lly drives away the dark!