Tuesday in Holy Week

Bravely
she came
into the house
of Simon the Pharisee, where he,
his guests, and Jesus were dining.
Luke gives her no name;
only that she was a sinner.
She did not heed
the scandalized stares
that leapt at her,
nor was she aware
of Simon's accusatory thought:
"If this man were really a prophet,
he would know. . ."
She knew only her need
to be near Jesus, to experience his holiness.
She knelt, wept her tears on his feet,
dried them with her hair,
anointed them with perfume
from her alabaster jar, kissed them.
Her rites of hospitality completed,
her love poured out,
she turned to go.
Then came her real release:
"Because of great love, your sins are forgiven, Go in peace."
Bravely she had come,
in joy she departed
gifted by God's grace:
This woman who had been a sinner.

0 Lord, you know all my longing.
I have seen your Beauty
as the paschal moon ripens to fullness-
the pink moon with its halo of mist.
Today you shine in paschal sunlight
glancing on the chapel floor,
fleeting as the paschal moon.

The first pale greening lifts bare vine stems
just beyond the chapel window;
inside it hanging plants capture spring;
candlelight pales before your Beauty.

We remember.
We celebrate.
We believe.
"A little while you see me,
and in a little while you will not see me."
My Lenten heart stirs in leaden darkness
and feels you near. . . so soon to leave.
I have known your thorn crowned head
and shoulders bloodied by the cross
and I have climbed steep stairs to Calvary.
Now you whisper: "Stay. . . Remain with me.
Watch and pray."
Slowly your Passion settles in my knees.
I see again your torn knees
pale against the dark cross
in the chapel of old Maryville.
Outside, small white flowers,
anonymous beauty, open into hyacinths,
bloom behind our-chain link fence,
untouched, untouchable there.
I look up and down our ugly street
and know your Beauty overcomes our drabness.

You are the heartbreak
of unshatterable springtide,
holding promised greening in your Heart,
breaking through our brokenness,
pouring out the wine of April newness.

You smile at the earth
that humanly you leave. . . soon, so soon
and promise once again,
"I go to prepare a place for you
that where I am you also will be."
Your tears have washed you clean
and I lift you to my Father, a clean oblation.

Carmen Smith rscj + 1981
Province of the United States

 
Good Friday : Gethsemane

He pulled away from us
waited alone
expectant
under the olives.
Sorrow clung
like dampness
on flat stones.
Tensed by a bird call
he strode back and forth from us
to the bare place.
Terror was a fever
shaking his body.
Was there no foothold
against that flood of fear?
I don't know.
What I remember
were human cries
pleadings
to be freed:
Abba.

Helen Condon rscj + 2007
Province of the United States

Easter Vigil: This is the day

This is the day,
Greater than the day the
Red Sea waters divided cunningly.

This is the day,
More beautiful than
Noah's rampant rainbow.

This is the day,
A homecoming dearer
Than that blest Prodigal's.

This is the day,
More awful than
Three youths laughing in the blazing furnace.

This is the day
He spoke about in parable and
Patient waiting.
The day they never understood
Until he passed through death
And a closed door.

This is the day he made
in his image:
Red with the Sea of his passion.
Gold with the sun-up of his rising.
This is the day for us to prize.

Judith Brown rscj
Province of the United States

Easter Sunday

Resurrection

Tears and peace are one
Where you break through the walls that fear raised high
To touch the cowering self and bid come forth
Lazarus from the tomb, securely sealed,
To recognise the Lord of life and love
And all the wondrous openings
To freedom and to wholeness and to peace.
Joy grows and swells and fills the very earth
With tears of recognition:
"I am thou and thou art me" and this is life
In all its tangled roots and thrusting stems,
Opening to flowers bearing fruit
That all may pluck and eat.
"This is my body, given for you."
"Drink of this cup, my outpoured life,
That you may live abundantly anew.
This is my gift; do as I do.
Be me, for I am with you
And my life is yours."

Elizabeth Grantham rscj
Province of England - Wales

Easter week

One can still go to the garden of Gethsemane,
but the Lord Jesus cannot be found there,
nor is He in the Garden tomb.
He is not on the road to Emmaus,
Nor in Galilee,
Nor in Nazareth
Or in Bethlehem.
He must be found in the Heart.

Ruth Woakes rscj
Province of England - Wales