Passion bearers

The victory of Christ was won as He hung, and died,
on the Cross.
The work of Christ is His descent into Hades
and His Preaching to those in prison.
The wages of His work is
His Resurrection.

A passion bearer does not summon himself or herself.
He or she cannot see this path and choose it.
The call can only come from Christ.
The path is wholly unknown.

People look on.
They think about what they see and hear.
A passion bearer, if they meet one, draws out the thoughts
of their heart.

One who loves Christ will look on with wonder.
One who hates Christ looks on in scorn.

Some of those who love Christ are confirmed in their religion,
others are drawn to look at their life in a new way.

The haters and the indifferent,
the world supplies with analysis,
‘masochism, fanaticism, madness’ on their tongue.

A passion bearer is happy where others can see only sorrow,
and persists in pursuing love at all costs,
as a rich man giving alms.

Easy and dutiful and expected,
we move on quickly from His Passion,
we skip through Hades, eyes covered with blinders
to shield us from bright darkness,
and then we reappear,
Resurrected.

Joy
has come
to the whole world.
From whence is it come then?
We look on in wonder, full of Paschal joy,
the passion bearers laud, with them shout ‘Victory!’
while they continue, quietly, to harvest souls
from the darkness.

Yes, the laborers will receive their wages.
Grapes do not yield wine, till they are crushed.
x

Waiting for us here

What would it look like,
if we really believed
and didn’t lie to ourselves and to Him?
How would we live, if we knew for sure
we are really His sons?

As I sit here
asking myself and you this question,
I find myself no less than you
a liar to the Father who loves me so much
that He quietly tells me to come with Him
so together we can find and burn
the evidence of my sin.

Although I cost Him very dear,
and lied to make my foolishness less clear,
He saw through all I said and did.
My fear of His anger drew Him very near.

He smiles, and sets us both at ease.
He seems more interested in something else,
not what either of us is so ashamed of.

He doesn’t seem to look
at everything we should have done,
nor does He scold.

Let’s hold fast with unbounded confidence
in His constant care,
for even while we fret for sake of His offending,
we find He’s always waiting for us here.

Version française par Claude Lopez-Ginisty

Who goes there

In a dark world,
Standing guard against a foe,
‘Who goes there?’

Enemies bound by blood,
Converge before a stone,
They say it heals them.

Many mothers ago,
Carried in one’s arms,
That Child heals.

His power resides
Not in feldspar or crystal
And yet they bow.

Neither confess an image
Carved by human hand,
And yet they pray.

In different tongues
But hearts of faith
Their sorrows cry.

‘Who goes there?’
Sentries invisible watch
The beaten path.

A door propped open
Into the abyss of life,
Beckons a rocky hand.

Clay pigeons came alive
In legends told
But here, Life flows.

War, cease from struggle
Before the throne,
Receive His peace.

In a dark world,
A Light enlightens him
Who goes there.

Clean Monday

                    The sound of the tide
                    woke me.

                    Any day
                    can be clean Monday.

                    Any day
                    not too early
                    nor too late,
                    I follow You, Lord,
                    as You walk along the sea.

                    Your foot steps leave no trace,
                    but mine,
                    heavy with the weight of sins,
                    mar the smoothness
                    of the sand of time.

                    Cannot erase them,
                    cannot hide them,
                    the path they trace,
                    where I walked without You,

                    but Your mercy, Lord,
                    Your mercy,
                    blows them away.
                    They vanish
                    in Your wind.
                    Following You,
                    like You
                    I leave no trace.

                    The sea washes away,
                    the wind clears the sand,
                    the wind carries them away,
                    the sun shines softly,
                    lights the beach
                    invisibly through the mists,
                    the roar of the waves
                    carries them away,
                    far as east is
                    from the west.

                    Alone with You,
                    I walk with You
                    along the sea, Lord,
                    and in silence
                    You unburden me.

                    You release me, Lord,
                    and so
                    I follow You.