Sunday, October 24, 2021

Christian Rock Concert

 Here's an oldie, written in 2004,

about a Christian rock concert I attended

with my sister and sister-in-law

during summer vacation...




It was good for us to be there

even though our silver pates pounded

and our ears were so deeply traumatized

by each deafening decibel

our hearing actually dulled, temporarily

The thundering beat bounced off

walls and rafters, ceiling and floor

reverberated in our seats

and sent tremulous vibrations

through our entire beings


It was a rock concert of worship music

with smoke and strobe and spotlights

PowerPoint and praise to Jesus. Hallelujah!

Amplified drums and crashing cymbals

the resounding cymbals the Psalms speak of

It's the very same music we enjoy over the radio

when we have control of the knob

There was no adjusting the volume tonight


The lead singer leaped across the stage

and sang so loudly we couldn't hear words

We attempted to sing along as best we could

we clapped and shouted and raised our hands

along with thousands, mostly young

with wonderful innate enthusiasm

and accustomed, receptive ears

We even did "the wave" with them

until we all were reminded

of the balcony's 100 year old fragility

We were reminded of our own 60ish fragility


We really wanted to stay. We really wanted to enjoy

We really wanted to span generations with great jubilation

We didn't mean to weenie out, but

looking one to the other

realized our pinched faces weren't reflective

of the fired-up ones one third our ages

so we ducked out midway through the second performance


Tomorrow we'll go to church

We'll sing, "Come, Thou Almighty King"

Number 392 in the frayed pew hymnal

but we'll treasure aspects of tonight

like the little girl in ribbon-tied pigtails

both hands raised way up high

like the cool guys with their big silver crosses

their earrings and bandanas

black tees emblazoned with The Name

like the twelve year old in the row in front of us

who kept spinning his green glow stick

as he danced in the bleachers praising his Jesus

with all the fervor of the shepherd/king of long ago

who led that remarkable gambol of wild abandon

before the Holy Ark


Maude Carolan

Here I am reading from my book,
Behold the Lamb...poetically!
at the Totowa Library in New Jersey

For information about ordering my books, Wonderhoods or Behold the Lamb...poetically!, visit my website at

Sunday, October 17, 2021

Happy 15th Anniversary to Us!

Bob and I will celebrate our

15th Wedding Anniversary

on Thursday...

Maude & Robert Pych on our wedding day,

October 21, 2006

Pastor/Rabbi Jonathan Cahn, officiating.


Israel Pilgrimage—2006


There was a grass-roofed shelter

along the Sea of Galilee

which reminded me of a succah

which reminded me of God’s covering over me

which reminded me of the blue and white tallit

I bought yesterday in Tiberias


Once I read an article in The Record

that stated being wrapped in a tallit

is like getting a hug from God

a statement that made me yearn

for a prayer shawl of my own

The very day after the article appeared

Rabbi Jonathan revealed

the newly designed Mizoram tallit to our congregation

with its colorful “Lamb within a Star of David” logo

representing Yeshua, our Jewish Messiah—

I gasped, when I saw it, assuming

one would be mine, my tallit, my hug from God

however, they were only presented to the pastors


which brings me to my marriage to Bob

just sixteen days ago

and that Pastor Steven graciously offered

to lend us his tallit to use as our wedding canopy

He gave us his traditional blue and white striped shawl

but Rabbi Jonathan said we would need a larger one

so Pastor Steven lent us his personal Mizoram tallit—

the very shawl that caused me to gasp, so long ago


Four ministers held up the corners of the prayer shawl

creating a fringed huppah over our heads

So, Bob and I stood under the covering of the Lamb

as we exchanged our marriage vows


At the conclusion of the ceremony

Rabbi Jonathan draped the shawl over our shoulders

wrapping us in a Heavenly hug on our holy wedding day


Maude Carolan Pych

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Sunday, October 10, 2021

An Unexpected Blessing

One of those unexpected blessings...

Mount of Beatitudes, Israel

Image credit:


Israel Pilgrimage—1986


At the Mount of Beatitudes

Wayne[1] suggests we each find

a quiet spot to spend

time alone with God


so I stroll along a pathway

surrounding the church

built in the name of

the Lord’s great message

to the multitudes


In a few moments I hear baa baaing

and follow the sound to the top of a hill

with sheep and a shepherd in view below


I sit on a low wall

to watch and carefully listen

for the voice of my Shepherd

amid plaintive bleating

I, too, am one of His sheep

I, too, have things to tell him

and don’t want to miss

anything He might have to say


This is communion—

a lamb with her Shepherd


I bask awhile in sweet serenity

aware of a holy presence

as the sheep graze

and the shepherd, like Jesus

carefully tends his flock


Afterward, we pilgrims come together—

No one else heard the sheep

No one else saw the shepherd


The interlude was for me alone

a gift from my God—

a simple blessing

to one little lamb He loves


Maude Carolan Pych

[1] Wayne Monbleau—Pilgrimage leader and host of “Let’s Talk About Jesus” radio program. 

For information about ordering Maude's books of poetry,

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

and "Wonderhoods"

visit her website:

Sunday, October 3, 2021

Mount Arbel in the Moonlight

Here's another poem of pilgrimage...

Mount Arbel at night.


Israel Pilgrimage--2006


Traveling in the tour bus from Tel Aviv

we arrive at the base of Mount Arbel

before twilight turns to dusk


The prudent would

postpone this venture

till daybreak, but

the zealous are rarely prudent


so seventy of us

imprudent zealous pilgrims

hastily begin an uphill trek

dodging rocky obstacles

Sprightly pilgrim feet

shuffle, sprint and stumble

up the mount

right to the cliff edge

at the pinnacle


The last vestiges of twilight

reveal the Galilee

flowing below us, darkly

like a great well of ink

Thousands of twinkling pin-lights

emanate from across the lake

…the city of Tiberius


The full moon

makes shadows of us all

as our guide teaches

and our rabbi ministers


We sing

O how we sing—


We are standing

on holy ground and we know

that there are angels all around…


and song after song of praise

unconcerned about hour or nightfall


Our exhilarated spirits mellow

and we lapse into solemn silence

except for muffled adoration

by a few and gentle weeping

by those bearing weighty burdens


then one by one

we make our way


down the steep, stony path

as God’s great October orb

casts a holy beacon

upon what otherwise would be

a treacherous, dark descent


Maude Carolan Pych


How to purchase Maude's books,

"Wonderhoods" and "Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

Maude at Barnes & Noble, Woodland Park, NJ.

Click on the following link for ordering information:

Visit Maude's website

Sunday, September 26, 2021

Mount Scopus

A View of Jerusalem from Mount Scopus...

Image credit:

I vividly remember during my second pilgrimage to Israel in 1987, while riding in the tour bus to Mount Scopus, to overlook Jerusalem, that our tour guide, Micha Ashkenazi, suddenly broke into singing so beautifully, "Yerushalayim Shel Zahav" (Jerusalem of Gold). 

The following poem is from my third pilgrimage in 2006...


Israel Pilgrimage—2006


It’s nighttime—

We arrive at Mount Scopus

overlooking Yerushalayim[1]

The stars glimmer

in the heavens

and The City is lit up

like the jewel of all the earth


Wishful, I want

there to be fireworks

want the surroundings

to express the excitement

stirring inside of me—

Suddenly, I hear

the unmistakable sound of fireworks

boom, boom, booming


although I cannot see

their luminous splendors

bursting in the sky


We partake of the fruit of the vine—

our cup of blessing

as we prepare to enter in


Our rabbi prays

for the peace of Jerusalem

prays the Shema[2]

prays the Shehekianu[3]

covers his head

with a magnificent tallit[4]

embellished with

the Star of David and the Lamb

He lifts his hands and prays

the Aaronic Benediction


Our joy cannot be contained—

This is the City of Our Great King


I watch a tear

trickle down

my rabbi’s face


Maude Carolan Pych

[1] Jerusalem

[2] The central prayer in the Jewish prayerbook (Siddur)

[3] A common Jewish prayer to celebrate special occasions

[4] prayer shawl

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Monday, September 20, 2021

A Poem of Pilgrimage


Image credit:


Israel Pilgrimage—1986


We’re at Chorazin, trying

to make ourselves comfortable

amid the ancient ruins

of the cursed city


I look for a patch

of dry grass to sit upon;

others sit on some rocks

Wayne Monbleau[1] props himself

against an acacia tree


We’re wearing head coverings

to shield us from the sun—

It’s hot!


Beside us are box lunches

and water bottles

that we’ve brought

from the hotel


We open our Bibles

to Luke 10:13


Woe to you Chorazin;

woe to you Bethsaida…


Wayne begins teaching—


I think of Jesus—

imagine Him propped

against a tree

like Wayne


imagine myself at His feet—

like Mary of Bethany

like an apostle


imagine us opening

our lunch sacks—

barley loaves; some fish

fresh from the depths

of the Galilee nearby


imagine listening to every word

as the Master pronounces woes

on the unrepentant cities


That was nearly

two millennia ago—

This is 1986

It is Wayne who is explaining

the Scriptures to us

not Jesus


We offer praise to God

and sing Hallels from the Psalms

A few birds are chirping

The sun-scorched clumps

of grass are lumpy beneath me

I smell the dry earth

and swat at a few pesky gnats

Perspiration beads up on my brow

I wipe it away

It is, I suppose, much the same

as it was way back then


and as it was then for them

I want the Word

to take root inside of me—

be it woes and chastisements

be it beatitudes and blessings—

take root

as it did in Mary

as it did in the apostles


for I, too, am a disciple

of the Lord


Maude Carolan Pych

7/4/12 Rev 4 9/20/21

[1] Rev. Wayne Monbleau is the founder of Loving Grace Ministries and host of the Christian radio call-in counseling program, “Let’s Talk About Jesus.” He led this 1986 pilgrimage to Israel.

To read more poems by Maude 

or order her books,

visit her website at

Sunday, September 12, 2021

Twenty Years Later...

Here's a poem I wrote shortly after 9/11/01...

Image credit:


Written in the wake of the September 11, 2001, Attack on America


We’ve been told God doesn’t belong in our schools

He doesn’t belong in public buildings

not in the town square, not at baseball games

We may not pray to Him in our classrooms

His Name has been shushed from graduations

Our witness at work has been silenced

Crèches and menorahs have been removed from government properties

and replaced with roly-poly Santas, tinseled trees and dreidels

Christmas and Hanukkah have been neutered

with wishes of “season’s greetings,” “happy holidays”

We’ve been closeted by the separation of church and state

in this free country founded as a safe haven for religious freedom


but when those 767s flew into those magnificent towers, September 11th

when those great towers imploded, when thousands died tragically

and shockwaves of grief and terror riveted our planet

suddenly our churches filled

God’s name arose boldly on banners all across the land

It was posted, plastered, scrawled and spoken

prayed to by the President, our leaders, newsmen

It appeared on school message boards

bumper stickers, lapel pins, buttons

It was superimposed upon flag decals glued to our windowpanes

It was emblazoned upon our chests on patriotic T-shirts

and it appeared over and over and over on subway prayer walls

along with Scotch taped photos of those who were missing

Thousands proclaimed it loud and clear

at candlelight vigils and a prayer service at Yankee Stadium

and we all sang it with tears

“God Bless America,” our truer anthem


If we’ve been complacent; if we’ve swept Him aside

packed Him away in attic trunks

with things we thought we wouldn’t need anymore

He’s waiting with arms outstretched

love streaming from His eyes

and we need Him to heal our shattered hearts


Oh, let’s keep the “God Bless” in our “America”

and Americans, let us “Bless God”

O let us never let go of Him again


Maude Carolan 

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and information about ordering my books.

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Sunday, September 5, 2021

The Shofar's About to Sound...

L'Shanah Tovah! 

Image credit:



I reach for my sweater against the chill

The crickets are chittering

Sunflowers have shed their golden petals

and a few green tomatoes remain

abandoned on the vines

It’s September—

the High Holy Days are approaching


Soon I will gather with michpocah

in the parking lot outside Beth Israel

We will observe Rosh Hoshanna

Rabbi Jonathan will sound

his kudu shofar beneath the full moon—

Tekiah—Shevarim—Teruah—Tekiah Gedolah


Sages tell us the first day of the month of Tishri

is the day God created the world

the world He so loved

the world He gave His only Son to save

The trumpeting reminds me

to reflect upon my relationship

with this God of my salvation

reminds me, humbly, to prepare for Yom Kippur


So I ponder the Day of Atonement

ponder the High Priest entering the Holy of Holies

sprinkling the blood of the sacrifice upon the Mercy Seat

ponder the sacrificed goat and the scapegoat

ponder forgiveness

ponder my sins, atoned for by Yeshua

ponder my High Priest, the Perfect Sacrifice

Who offered His Very Own Blood

on my behalf


Next will be Sukkot

the Feast of Tabernacles—

From inside a leafy sukkah

I’ll be reminded of the sojourn of God’s people

to the Promised Land

reminded of my very own sojourn

toward God’s promise—

eternal life with Him

in Heaven


Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!" 

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at and Barnes & Noble

Sunday, August 29, 2021

My Sunflower Garden

One more sunflower poem for you...

Photo by Maude



My sunflower garden is sheer delight

filling my backyard with beams of light

It’s where I find time to commune with God

amid gigantic blessings, sprung from sod


They sway in the breeze and make me smile

as I sit meditative, for awhile

Each luminous face is haloed gold

atop stalks like soldiers, straight and bold


They outshine all other blooms around

Each sunburst the buzzing bees surround

and butterflies come a-winging, too

I saw some Monarchs alight a few


After days of dazzle, they’ll bow their heads

Grown weary, their golden petals shed

presenting a somber prayerful stance

inspiring intercessions as I glance


I watch bees draw nectar, soon the birds

will feast upon their seeds, as spurred

This is nature’s way; how life goes on

It’s the Master plan we depend upon


I believe my garden is God’s gift

to empower my spirit to uplift

So much depends on these golden kings—

Beauty, sustenance…eternal things!


Maude Carolan Pych

Would you like to read more of my poems? I have two books available, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" and "Wonderhoods." For ordering information, go to

Sunday, August 22, 2021

Sensational Sunflowers!


Photo by Maude



For weeks now

I’ve been driving by a house

on Totowa Road

that holds no distinction

except for a vibrant flower garden

in front and around the side


What catches my glance

and causes me to smile

are perhaps thirty or forty

gigantic golden sunflowers

shouting for attention


Today I printed

eight sunflower poems

folded them neatly

and placed them in an envelope

decorated with a scribbled sketch

of a solitary sunflower

and a note saying

I love them, too!

and left the envelope

by the front door

of the house I often pass


Sometimes I leave bereavement poems

on a table at a neighborhood mausoleum

or give copies of my chapbook

The Widow’s Song

to newly widowed friends

Sometimes I mail poems

about butterflies

to people who love them

and regularly post poems on my blog

about God’s love and His mercy

with the hope

of reaching those

who need encouragement


When the one who gifted me

with a garden full of sunbursts

opens the door today

I hope my simple poems

generate a smile


Maude Carolan Pych

Books of Poetry by Maude Carolan Pych