Flood

You spoke, O God, and all was made;
the evening came, and then the day,
and someday all will be made new—
a day that no one knows but you.

You drew the vapor off the land
and oceans gathered in your hand.
You shut within its doors the sea,
and with a word you set it free.

The stormcouds thundered back again:
You looked upon the works of men
and sent the raging of the flood
to wash the stones we'd stained with blood.

But in your day all floods recede
and sunlight touches soil and seed.
The shattered earth will yield once once;
the vintage of your love will pour.

'Til then, your altars deep are drowned,
and deep the sacrifice must sound.
So shall the deluge wash away
the sin that stains our hands today.

Let this flood reach our inmost parts
with tears to baptize wayward hearts.
Like the earth, let us be whole again;
like the earth, to yield your harvest then.

More details

Noah’s Ark (1846), by the American folk painter Edward Hicks 1780 – 1849 (1780 – 1849) – Artist/Maker (American)Born in Langhorne, Pennsylvania, United States. Died in Newtown, Pennsylvania, United States.Details on Google Art Project – aQFz9qNv8QS26Q at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21886421

Psalm 51: Wash Me

Have mercy on me, God, as you are holy.
Have mercy, Lord, for you are merciful.
Though I have wandered far from my own soul now,
you are yourself, a well forever full.

Have mercy, though I walk in my transgressions
and, feasting, fill my mouth with sand and dust.
I dream of rain and wake to find a desert:
If this is water, why do I still thirst?

A heart of stone can live on dust and ashes;
create a heart for me of flesh and blood
that feels the fear of loss and sting of gladness.
Renew me, and my barren shoots will bud.

You are the only sea: Fill this dry streambed.
You are the rain: Then quench these thirsting bones.
Let floods destroy my shame and self-deceiving.
The record of my sin make blank as snow.

Lord, open up my lips to taste your waters,
and in between the sips I'll sing your praise.
This desert that I built I will not offer,
but let this beating heart be yours always.

Self Made: Shot in Chicago in the parking lot of the Century Shopping Center on April 15, 2007 By Victorgrigas at English Wikipedia – Own work: Originally from en.wikipedia; description page is/was here., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2148320

Lifted Up

Jesus said to Nicodemus:
“Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert,
so must the Son of Man be lifted up,
so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
but might have eternal life.”
John 3:14-21

Late and early came the prophets,
calling us throughout the years.
Loudly came your word and often;
sullenly we stopped our ears.
Now your anger falls upon us;
now we taste the salt of tears.

Yet we know the night is passing:
Darkness falls before the dawn.
Sorrow is not everlasting,
though its years go on and on.
When the land has had its sabbaths,
then will all our tears be gone.

Anger will not last forever:
God will turn to us again.
Mercy will drop down from heaven,
fill our desert with its rain,
pardon seven times and seven,
joy for all our years of pain.

When will we behold that mercy?
When will you forgive us, Lord?
When the king becomes a servant,
robed in sorrow, crowned with thorn,
lifted up like Moses' serpent:
This is how you love the world.

The Brazen Serpent (watercolor circa 1896–1902 by James Tissot) – http://www.wcg.org/images/tissot/tissnake.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7095651 x1952-201, The Brazen Serpent, Artist: Tissot, Photographer: John Parnell, Photo © The Jewish Museum, New York

Temple

Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves,
as well as the money changers seated there.
He made a whip out of cords
and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen,
and spilled the coins of the money changers
and overturned their tables,
and to those who sold doves he said,
“Take these out of here,
and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.”
John 2:13-25

“Come,” you say; “remove your sandals:
Here you stand on holy ground.”
Here, where every flock has trampled?
Here, where all my deals go down?

Here within your tabernacle
I have built my marketplace,
paved it o'er with dimes and nickels,
veiled the image of your face.

I have feasted in your temple—
your own dwelling, set apart—
gorged myself before my idols.
Purge the altar in my heart.

Turn away the grinning merchants;
claim the dreams they count in coins.
Then forgive how I have worshipped
at the table of their joys.

Drive away the sheep and cattle
shod in silver, hormed in gold,
easy off'rings, prayers I prattle,
grace and blessing bought and sold.

Cleanse my heart to be your dwelling
where you only are adored.
Then, when time destroys this temple,
raise it up again, O Lord.

11th century unknown painters – Gospelbook of Matilda – The Cleansing of the Temple – WGA15960 By Unknown Miniaturist, Italian (active late 11th century) – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15884839

Ash Wednesday

Now is the desert yawning

where you have led our steps;

now is the dim-lit dawning

showing the days far-spent.



Oh, could I tear my garments,

could some repentance show!

How can I rend what's hardened?

How can I mend this stone?



Teach me to count the moments,

each one a fading breath:

Finite I then shall know them,

reckon the days 'til death.



Visit me, Lord, in secret.

Though my left hand is blind,

all of my sins, you see them:

See where I would go right.



Teach me to know me guilty;

show me my hidden schemes.

Wash me then with your hyssop;

clease me, and I am clean.



Bring me through fire and water,

long though the road may be.

Make us a way, O Father:

Make all our stone hearts beat.

More details

Ash Wednesday by Carl Spitzweg: the end of Carnival

By Carl Spitzweg – 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=159077

Broken Cisterns 2

A re-write of this:

We set out for our Edens;

we thought we knew the way,

but shimmers in the distance

have tempted us to stray.

Still, Lord, we were insistent

that you would bless our days:

We dug these broken cisterns,

then knelt and prayed for rain.



You opened up the heavens,

poured water through our hands,

but all that we collected

ran off into the sands.

We thought that you would bless us

and sanctify our plans,

but, God, our wells are empty,

and thirsty still we stand.



But you know well the desert--

through forty days and nights

you let yourself be tempted.

You know our tears and sighs.

And you have felt our yearnings,

our hungers and our drives--

then may we feel your mercy.

O Mercy, hear our cry!



Take all our broken cisterns

and make them sound and whole.

Our locust-eaten vistas

in you can be restored.

Our empty wells transfigure;

redeem our hungry souls

to hold the good you've given:
Pour out your grace once more!

True Repentance: Psalm 146

A versification of Psalm 146, to the tune NETTLETON:

You who shelter the defenseless,

you who set the pris'ners free,

you the fear of all oppressors

and the hope of refugees,

lead me to a true repentance.

I will seek you on my knees

where your wings are my protection.

Pour your mercy down on me.



For I know I am a sinner—

I have turned from you, O Lord.

As I love my friends and kindred,

teach me how to love your world.

Touch my eyes to see your image;

heal the blindness of my soul.

Where my hands hang slack and withered,

stretch me out and make me whole.



I will give you all my efforts,

knowing I am only dust,

for your justice in the present,

for your kingdom yet to come.

Not in armies or in weapons

but in you I place my trust;

not a prince, but in a shepherd;

not in might, but in your love.

Folio 85r – Psalm CXLV Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=108933 ?Photo. R.M.N. / R.-G. Oj?da

Vineyard

Now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah,
judge between me and my vineyard:
What more was there to do for my vineyard
that I had not done?
Why, when I looked for the crop of grapes,
did it bring forth wild grapes?
Now, I will let you know
what I mean to do with my vineyard:
take away its hedge, give it to grazing,
break through its wall, let it be trampled!
Yes, I will make it a ruin:
it shall not be pruned or hoed,
but overgrown with thorns and briers;
I will command the clouds
not to send rain upon it.
The vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel,
and the people of Judah are his cherished plant;
he looked for judgment, but see, bloodshed!
for justice, but hark, the outcry!
Isaiah 5:1-7

When justice turns to bloodshed,
when outrage does not cease,
when we fear not your judgement,
how can we speak of peace?

We claim to be your vineyard
while trampling down your vines,
but you will tread the vintage
we have so long denied:

To shatter all our strongholds
and leave us in the ruins,
unless we turn from bloodshed
and let ourselves be pruned.

The vines that we have trampled,
that should have been our feast,
were you, O gentle master,
in all your last and least.

Do not destroy the vineyard—
We still can bear good fruit!—
but teach us your new vintage.
Train us to grow anew.

So may our hearts be grafted
into your holy vine
that we become your branches
and bear your holy wine.

The Red Vineyard, 1888 by Vincent van Gogh, is the only van Gogh painting sold during his lifetime By Vincent van Gogh – History of the Red Vineyard by Anna Boch.com, 2nd upload: wikipaintings, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3073079

Create an Unstained Heart in Me

Based on Psalm 51:

Create an unstained heart in me
and make my spirit new,
for my old heart sits heavily,
and I can hardly move.

No sacrifice do you desire,
no gold or fatted calf, 
but lay this heart upon the pyre
and let it turn to ash.

Then wash me, and I shall be clean;
with hyssop make me pure
and pour your waters over me
to make me ever yours.

Though I have sinned against you, God—
my sin before me lies—
have mercy on me in your love
and give me strength to rise.

Give back the joy I knew before;
give music to my voice
and let me hear your song once more:
Let broken bones rejoice.

And I shall sing your praise again,
a new heart beat in time
the endless song: Amen, amen,
when your heart beats in mine.

*The Prophet Nathan rebukes King David*, oil on canvas by Eugène Siberdt, 1866–1931 (Mayfair Gallery, London) – http://mayfairgallery.com/index.php?location=item&item=19480&section=recent, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44786866

Too Many Places Empty

I thought I saw, on Instagram, a quote saying that what George Floyd’s family really wanted was not Derek Chauvin convicted, but George Floyd home, sharing dinner with them. I can’t find the quote now. But the idea is what inspired this. To the tune PASSION CHORALE (“Oh Sacred Head Surrounded”):

Too many places empty
around our tables, now,
though here we dwell in plenty
where bread and wine abound.
Our brothers are prevented;
our sisters are cut down.
O God of righteous sentence,
where is your justice found?

The mothers weep who bore them
into a world of woes—
Your cup of healing pour them
until it overflows!
You set this feast before them
in sight of all their foes;
O God, come stand here for them
'til streams of justice flow!

Your table laid in heaven
has seats enough to fill:
Lord, gather all our brethren
and let them feast there still.
Cast out the impure leaven
that drives us on to kill;
O God, give us repentance
and bend us to your will!