Counted

“For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me,
namely, He was counted among the wicked;
and indeed what is written about me is coming to fulfillment.”
—Luke 22:14-23:56

We had Eden, but we lost it,
and our lives as leaves are flown.
Now a chasm—Lord, you crossed it—
lies between us and your throne.
You are counted with the fallen,
flesh of flesh and bone of bone.

Now into creation's burden
you have come to bear its griefs,
and at last to crush the serpent
died, a leaf among the leaves.
You were counted with the worthless,
as a thief among the thieves.

Knowing this would mean your slaughter,
still you filled the wounded world.
Even the rope that Judas knotted
had you woven in the cord.
You were counted with the godless,
and you took their death as yours.

Even the leaf by winter withered
clinging empty to the vine
you will draw into your kingdom
when you drink the brand-new wine.
You were counted with the sinners:
Count us, Lord, with the divine.

Ecce Homo, Nuno Gonçalves, 15th century By Unknown author – [1], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6014228

Alabaster Jar

When he was in Bethany reclining at table
in the house of Simon the leper,
a woman came with an alabaster jar of perfumed oil,
costly genuine spikenard.
She broke the alabaster jar and poured it on his head.
Mark 14:1-15:47

The carven alabaster,
a jar of sweet perfume,
rains out upon the master
anointing for the groom.
But once the flask is open,
no more can it be shut.
The hollow must be broken,
entirely poured out.

So Christ the living chalice
that holds the love of God,
not only tipped but shattered,
pours water from the rock.
And we are rendered speechless
as all the house is filled
with wonder at the fragrance
when that perfume is spilled.

We weep when it runs empty,
the sweetness all poured out;
we mourn to see his ending,
and all our tears drop down.
Though broken in his body,
anointed for the tomb,
still Christ pours out like water
the flood that makes us new.

Gemäldegalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. Berlin. Berlin, Berlin. Germany. Schilderij, Christus in het huis van Simon de farizeër, Dierick Bouts, ca 1465-1470. Painting. Christ in the House of Simon the Pharisee. Dierick Bouts. Ca 1465-1470. . Dieric Bouts (ca 1410/1415-1475). pmrmaeyaert@gmail.com. © Paul M.R. Maeyaert. © Paul M.R. Maeyaert. Ref: PM_152261_D_Berlin. DO NOT CHANGE THE FILE NAME. NE PAS CHANGER LE NOM DE FICHIER. By PMRMaeyaert – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=144874337

You Could Have Stayed

To the tune FINLANDIA:

You could have stayed at peace within the desert;
you could have turned the very stones to bread
when he had gone, and you no more were tested,
but you returned.  You came to us instead.
Did you not know you would be tried and sentenced?
And still you came, and here you met your death.

You could have stayed in Nazareth forever,
your mother's son, your father's strong right hand,
master of nails, with naught to fear but splinters,
but you went out into the desert sands.
And did she weep, your mother, when you left her?
And did she know you'd not come back again?

You could have stayed in Egypt, in your exile,
where you were safe though Herod threatened still.
Why did you leave the waters of the rich Nile
for Jordan's banks?  What promise to fulfill?
Your mission called, and you came back to Israel,
and there you died, you blood a river spilled.

You could have stayed, O Prince of highest heaven,
among the hosts that endlessly adore,
but you came here alone and undefended
to Jordan's bank, and then its farther shore.
O Christ of God, O true self-giving Shepherd,
you came for us!  Stay with us evermore!

By Grigory Gaagarin – http://lj.rossia.org/users/john_petrov/680833.html#cutid1, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1780791

The Good Thief

We had this reading yesterday:

Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying,
“Are you not the Christ?
Save yourself and us.”
The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply,
“Have you no fear of God,
for you are subject to the same condemnation?
And indeed, we have been condemned justly,
for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes,
but this man has done nothing criminal.”
Then he said,
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
He replied to him,
“Amen, I say to you,
today you will be with me in Paradise.”
Luke 23: 35-43

Our deacon mentioned in his homily that Christ’s reply to the penitent criminal is actually surprising for a man in agony–something I hadn’t considered before, but with which I am familiar. I can’t even answer patiently when I’m hungry, much less in pain. And that got me thinking. And then I wrote:

  His hands bound to the beam
 cannot reach out for grace,
 but close beside him, mercies stream
 to fill this deathly place.
 How easy to blaspheme,
 spit on the stricken face
 of him who came but to redeem
 the wounded human race.
 
  Here, where all fear has fled,
 where life and judgment meet,
 where all should be despair and dread,
 here is the mercy seat.
 And so, he bows his head
 in fealty, not defeat,
 to worship once before he's dead
 and shed his long deceit.
  
 Here do the weeping eyes
 fix all their gaze on him--
 him whom all goodness should despise--
 and welcome him to heav'n.
 Utter the sacrifice,
 complete the gift is giv'n:
 one faulty soul the giver's prize,
 one whole world here to win.