Prompt 12: Guilt

"Guilt" is probably a good prompt for Holy Week, and I thought it would be easier to write than it actually was. Several aborted attempts finally yielded this:

Domine Non Sum Dignus

It is not Thy bleeding feet,

Thy wounded hands nor crown of scars –

Though I dealt them all to Thee,

And left Thee, beaten and alone –

That cause me now such sorrowing,

That leave me hollowed and ashamed,

But that, when I had done the deed,

And fled, a fugitive, in the dark,

Thy Love came searching after me,

Through tangled ways of thorn and stone,

Found me, guilty and cowering,

Looked at me, and called my name.

Palm Sunday

This is the antiphon for Palm Sunday. It is one of those extraordinarily beautiful songs that the Church composes for its most special occasions. In traditional Catholic services, this is the antiphon that is sung while the faithful process up to receive their palms.

Today's poetry prompt was another fill in the blank prompt, "So (blank)". All of the initial ideas were flippant: "So.... it has come to this". (And very dramatic it is too.) "So, this is how it ends..." (Only I can't think of anything to follow up with.) "So this is how it feels." (I don't do feelings.) 

An idea occurred to me on the way down to Mass... it was supposed to be a two part poem. The last two lines would have involved me lifting palms and singing "Hosanna filio David". So I worried the poem into shape..... and discovered that after a single part, it seems so complete that I could not figure out how to get the second part in. I did not immediately post it, as I really hoped that a second part might take shape. But the more I thought about it, the more the poet instinct told me that it was finished. So this is the poem of the day:

So I, In Darkness Sought Thy Face

Palm Sunday, 2017

Because I saw Thy Glory clad

In home-spun robes, Thy work-scarred hands

Upraised to bless and to command

The Sea be calm and sorrows flee,

Because I saw Thy Chivalry,

So I, in darkness, sought Thy Face,

And saw the Face Thou hid.

Monday in Passion Week

Today's prompt was a fill in the blank thing: The (blank) of Love, and we were to decided what word went in the blank, use that as the poem's title and off you go. 

I do not like love poems.... Well, I suppose that is not entirely accurate. I like Robert Burns' love poems well enough, and I fancy if I put my mind to it, there are a number of other poets whose romantic verses have moved my. But I do not like writing love poems. They are not really my thing. Indeed, any sort of highly personal writing is far out of my comfort zone. I write about things, preferably things which can be expressed mythically (if you take my meaning), things that are universal, perhaps even emotional, but in which I am never more than a passing figure. I was not excited about today's prompt, nor did I have much hope for it. But I did manage this:

The Debt of Love

(Passion Week, 2017)

You wrote Your Love against the sky

In iron, gall, and Your own red blood.

I turned and left You hanging there - 

I thought it no more than my due.

I took in stride the dying words

You wrote in pain with blood and wood.

I mouthed my thanks and walked away

And took no farther thought of You.

But in this Dark Night of the Soul,

I read those love notes, writ in blood.

I know the burden of my choice:

Too late, too little have I loved You.

Passion Sunday

From this Sunday until Easter, we enter into the most solemn time of the liturgical year. All Lent has been preparing us for Christ's Death and Resurrection. Beginning on Passion Sunday, we begin to prepare for His Death in earnest. From now until the Gloria is sung during Easter vigil, every crucifix, statue and holy picture within the church are shrouded in purple covers. Our Lord's impending betray and passion are foreshadowed in the daily readings, not only in the Mass, but in all the Divine Liturgy. Beginning on Palm Sunday, all four Passion Narratives from each of the Gospels will be read - Matthew on Sunday, Mark on Tuesday, Luke on Wednesday, and John on Friday. There are numerous beautiful and deeply moving ceremonies, prayers and hymns to bring to our minds the great love of God for us, and the great price He paid for our redemption. Passiontide into Easter vie with Christmas as my favourite time of the year.

From a purely selfish perspective - the last few weeks of Lent always seem to go by quickly. For four week, there is prayer and penance, fasting, and almsgiving. Quite often, it is a bit of a slog, that slow, breaking away from one's ordinary habits, the re-focusing on God, the discipline that is required to hold to good resolutions. And then, the Church gives one a break - Laetare Sunday (which was last week) - a day of hope and gladness in the midst of penitence. For a moment, we look beyond Calvary and see the victory after death. Then we hit a string of solemnities - Passion Sunday, Palm Sunday, Holy Week and Easter. With the intense focus on the mystery of Redemption, comes a feeling as of a battle being drawn, of stake all, and win all. Grief and hope, heartbreak, anguish, and exultation combine to produce a time of happening - a sense of participating in some great movement that is both terrible and splendid. 

Though I have not always been so faithful to my resolutions as I want to be, I can honestly say I have done my best this year. I have spent the last few weeks feeling as though I were a bit if iron, being given an edge. I have no idea of I actually am any better than I was at the beginning of the season - God knoweth, to quote St. Paul, but the hunger I have felt is more from a desire to be more Christlike, than from the purely human hunger that comes from reduced rations. And God, being good, has occasionally played Simeon's part in my own Cross carrying, and sent a bit of elemental joy into the somber world.

After one such occurrence, I composed this:

It was a wildly windy day, and though I cannot remember if there were clouds in the sky, or if it were merely bleached by a burning, winter sun, but the raven and the gull were caught in the light, and turned into creatures of silver flame as they slipped in great circles through the draught. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter, but those two shining works of God's hands, and the goodness He has shown in making them as He did. And it was enough.

Remember, Man, That Thou Art Dust

Indeed, it is here. And not matter how late in the year it comes - this year it is very late - Lent seems to come much sooner than I want it too. The Spirit might be willing, but the Flesh is very weak, and it quails at the thought of straightened rations, early rising, curtailment of the weekly meat allowance, and general penitence. One feels peckish and deprived:

On the other, now that the seasons have completed their rounds, and the Season of Penance draws is here again, I definitely feel as though I've a year's worth of failings and imperfections to atone for. I have let myself get rather slack, and there is a hit-and-miss quality towards my duties towards God and Man. I have gotten sloppy. So truly, I am quite ready for a good stiff bit of training, and strengthening up:

(One does not want to remain a Kili sort of fighter forever ;-)

Besides, there is something rather beautiful about Lent - a sense that one is following in the footsteps of Our Lord; taking the cross up voluntarily; walking beside Him along the road to Calvary. It is heartening, and purifying and good.

So, once more into the breach! Here's hoping that I make it a good Lent. A very holy and blessed season to you all.

Passiontide

Today is Holy Thursday, also called Maundy Thursday, the first day of the most solemn and sacred time in the Church's year. It was on this day, during the Last Supper that Jesus Christ instituted the Blessed Sacrament. And today His Passion began with the dreadful agony in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Tomorrow is Good Friday, the day of His suffering and died, to free the us poor sinners, and win for us our salvation.

Holy Saturday is the last day of Lent, a day of sorrow for the death of the Hero Christ, and of expectation of His glorious resurrection.

My sisters and I were busy earlier this week, weaving the palms we received on Sunday into various shapes and designs:

ROSES

CROSSES AND A CROWN OF THORNS

I WAS PARTICULARLY PLEASED WITH THE CROWN OF THORNS.

 During Christmas, I checked out a CD of Christmas music, sung by Julie Andrews. It was a lovely album, and rather different from the general run of Christmas CDs. Amongst other things, it had a haunting little song called the Lamb of God Carol. I had never heard it before. Nor can I find much information in it at all. It is, I think, more of a New Year's carol, than a Christmas carol. But the words are particularly suited to Passiontide, so I am posting it here. As a bit of a digression, it was not uncommon for older Christmas carols to make reference to the death of Our Lord - the middle verse of What Child Is This is an example. After all, He came into this world to die for us, so it does make sense. Furthermore, there was time when the new year was celebrated on March 25th, which falls during Lent, so the references to the Passion would have been natural. However, the beginning lines of the Lamb of God carol, definitely fit more into the Christmas tradition, so this song is just a bit of an oddity to me.



Lent

                     "Never flinch, boys, never be afraid,
                                       "Heroes are not born, boys, heroes all are made..."





The second week of Lent is already upon us, so we are well into the penitential season now. I am going to be honest, and admit that I rather like Lent. Don't get me wrong, it can be tough, especially the first couple weeks, when you are settling into it; when you are hungry, and craving chocolate, and the six weeks from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday, seem a long and drear and bleak. It isn't the penance I like, nor even the extra prayers, but the season itself.

You see, I tend to view life as something of a long, running battle. Sometimes there is a good dash of glorious adventure thrown in. Sometimes there are dry periods of tedious monotany. Sometimes, the soldier is in good spirits, and meets misfortune with philosophy and song. Sometimes, he is weary and worn, and ready to throw the towel in, and go AWOL for home. But as inveritably happens on long campaigns, there is a time when the fighting comes to a stand still, and both sides hunker down in their trenches, with nothing but the occasional lobbing of mortars and the fitful exchange of fire to remind them that a war to  is still on. In the midst of this false semi-peace, the soldier becomes complacent, and his fighting skills grow slack.

Lent puts an end to all of that. Lent is a call to arms, and the order to attack - to throw off the lethargy that has had the soldier in its grip. It breaths life and glory back into the fight. It is hard going, battling across a dismal noman's land, and marching on short rations. The soldier must have all his courage and wits about him, for the enemy is both fierce and wily. For all that, there is exhileration in being well into to the fray again, in the slow gaining of ground, despite falls and setbacks. The sword and the musket make glad his hands, and there is joy at being once again so solidly in the army of the Great Captain, Who has gone to His own death for the sake of His men, and defeated it.

At least, that is how I see Lent - a time to make up for past sins, yes, but also a time to set my face firmly towards my King and Captain, and trust Him as a soldier trust a good CO. For though He might send me into bitter fighting, He will never suffer me to go it alone. So, hard as it is too keep to the extra penances and prayers I have set for myself, (I do not always keep to them so devoutly as I could wish) I say again, that I do like Lent, and I thank God for the season.

Take My Mother Home

I am not, generally speaking, a fan of Black Spirituals. They are too dramatic and emotional for me. This, however, is a particularly fine example of they style, and, I think, very fitting for Passion Sunday: