Wednesday, March 31, 2021

He Suffered Under Pontius Pilate


 Until Resurrection Day...



During my first pilgrimage to Israel

archeologist and guide, Micha Ashkenazi

took us to Caesarea to view a replica

of a piece of limestone

partially inscribed with the name Pontius Pilatus


Micha had been a member of the team

that unearthed the stone there

during a dig in 1961


It is the only evidence

of the historical existence

of the Roman governor

outside the New Testament

and writings of Josephus Flavius


Interesting, Pilate, who may have given

a modicum of credence to his wife’s warning

to have nothing to do with Jesus

did make an abysmal effort

to prevent the crucifixion

by setting Barabbas

before the riled multitude


When the crowd shouted to free Barabbas

and called for death to Jesus

their chants of


Crucify Him! Crucify Him!


drummed in his ears


Pilate asked for a basin of water

He washed his hands in front of them—

as if water could possibly cleanse him

of responsibility for what would happen next


The irony is that even now

thousands of years hence

contempt for this man is as clear

as his name etched in stone—


for wherever believers gather

and proclaim their creed




suffered under Pontius Pilate

was crucified, dead and buried…


Pilate’s guilt is an indelible stain

that can never be

washed from our minds


Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Tuesday, March 30, 2021

Oh! It Causes Me to Tremble...


Until Resurrection Day...


Israel Pilgrimage—2006


There is a pit

beneath the House of Caiaphas

a once dark, dismal, terrifying hole

into which prisoners

were lowered by ropes

under their armpits


Our Lord Jesus likely

was brought here directly

from the Garden of Gethsemane

on the night He was betrayed by Judas


The scene seems less horrific today

than when I was here in 1986

Then, it was easier to imagine

a terrifying incarceration

of a prisoner, especially

an innocent prisoner, alone

amid ominous dampness and vermin

in the very bowels of the earth


The pit is located beneath a church—

The Church of Saint Peter of Gallicantu

(of the cock’s crow)

named for where in the courtyard

Peter denied knowing Jesus three times


It’s been spiffed-up—

It’s brighter. The descent, easier

It’s not nearly as dismal


but, back in eighty-six

as Wayne Monbleau read Psalm 22

in that detestable dungeon


…they pierced

my hands and my feet.

I can count all my bones…[1]


I closed my eyes, and literally


imagining how terribly Jesus suffered

to wash my sins away


Maude Carolan Pych

[1] Psalm 22:17-18 NASB

Note: Rev. Wayne Monbleau, of Loving Grace Ministries, is the host of the live Christian counseling radio program, "Let's Talk About Jesus."

Maude Carolan Pych

Here I am, holding a copy of my book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!"  It contains 95 poems about the Birth, Death and Resurrection of Jesus, written over a span of thirty years. The book is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For more information, visit my website at

Monday, March 29, 2021

The Last Supper


Until Resurrection Day...

The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci

Image credit:


Israel Pilgrimage—2006


We realize this is not the actual place

where Messiah celebrated

the Passover with His disciples

on the night before He suffered

not the very place

where He took bread and broke it

took the cup and shared it

not the room in which He said:


Do this in remembrance of Me


but here we are in the Land

here we are in the relative vicinity

We know the actual Upper Room is long gone

but this is a room and it’s upstairs

as near as we can possibly get

besides, in the spirit

we are here, transported

so this is plenty good enough


We break into praise and worship

to celebrate the Passover meal

the taking of the towel

the washing of feet

the reclining at the table

the dipping of the bread

the very first communion

and another noteworthy occasion—



The presence of the Spirit

falls so mightily upon us

we expect blazing tongues of fire

to tumble down from Heaven

and alight upon our heads


Maude Carolan Pych


"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

a book of poems by Maude Carolan Pych

as seen in the Christian Living section

of Barnes & Noble, Woodland Park, NJ.

For more information:


Sunday, March 28, 2021

Today is Palm Sunday


Until Resurrection Day...

Image credit:



It’s Lent—

I’m sitting here meditating

upon that final week

wondering what happened to His followers

after Jesus entered Jerusalem

riding astride a donkey

as people spread their coats before Him

along the dusty road

Wondering about those followers

the ones who cut branches from palm trees

and waved them at Him in homage, proclaiming


Hosanna to the Son of David!

Hosanna in the highest!


After all, He was their humble King


I’m sitting here wondering what happened

between then and days later

when Jesus stood before Pilate

amid a crowd of onlookers

persuasive chief priests and elders

and everyone began shouting


Crucify Him! Crucify Him!


Did they forget the taste of water

that He turned into wine?


Did they forget the healed lepers and the blind?


Did they forget Him preaching

to the multitudes, Blessed be the poor…

and the thousands He fed with a few loaves and fish


Did they forget He healed a pitiful demoniac

and the woman with an issue of blood


Could they have forgotten that he said to the dead girl,

Talitha kum, and she sprang right up and walked


And Lazarus? Could they possibly have forgotten

that Jesus called His friend out of the tomb

and Lazarus emerged, grave clothes coiled

around his body…after three days!


I’m still sitting here wondering about

how quickly they turned

from their hosannas

to calling for His death


Wasn’t there one clear-headed believer

one unable-to-be-swayed witness

one unshakable faithful-unto-death follower

to boldly shout out in protest…




No. There wasn’t


Not even one


Maude Carolan Pych

Looking for a meaningful Easter gift?

I suggest my book of poems about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus.

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!" by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Saturday, March 27, 2021

"The Passover Lamb"


Until Resurrection Day...

Chag Sameach! Have a blessed Passover.

"Lamb" by Angel Ciesniarska



Abba went into the sheepfold to choose a spotless lamb,

as Moses gave instructions that he got from the I Am.


Our lamb, indeed, was spotless, so I named him Wooly Bright;

we brought him inside to live with us, morning, noon, and night.


I ran my fingers through his coat and fed him from my hand,

I put fresh water in his trough; he’s the best lamb in the land!


Today he’ll be our sacrifice. Moses said this must be done.

He must die that I may live, for I’m a firstborn son.


We’ve been oppressed by slavery; Pharaoh will not let us go,

but God’s mighty arm will save us. We’ll watch His power flow.


Moses told us, take lamb’s blood, and brush it on the lintel

then we will be protected; it almost sounds too simple.


Tonight we will leave Egypt and journey far from home,

but I’ll remember Wooly Bright wherever I may roam.



Someday the world will see in this, God’s salvation plan;

God’s Son will be the sacrifice, the great Passover Lamb!


For as God will use blood of lambs to set His people free,

the precious Blood of Jesus will save sinners…you and me.


Maude Carolan Pych

The above poem is one of 95 included in my book,

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

Maude Carolan Pych

The book is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Friday, March 26, 2021

"Extraordinary Matzoh"


Until Resurrection Day...

I wish you a holy Passover.

Image credit:



It’s only ordinary unleavened bread

Ordinary matzoh

On an earthen plate

It probably came

From a supermarket shelf

A Manischewitz box

Ordinary matzoh

Blessed for Passover

Oh, but when I take it

And cradle it lovingly

In my hands

Break it and bless it

It is for me

Most Holy Bread

Good Friday Bread

Body of the Lamb that was slain

With my cup of Redemption

Communion Bread

Lechem without hametz

Without yeast of sin




Shrouded afikomen


Then resurrected

With glory

I partake

Alleluia, alleluia

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!


Maude Carolan

The above poem was first published in William W. Francis' book, "Celebrate the Feasts of the Lord," published by Crest Books. It also appears in my book of inspirational poetry, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" The latter is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For more information, go to

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

Thursday, March 25, 2021

Judas Betrays Jesus


Until Resurrection Day...

Image credit:


“…But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man!

It would be better for him if he had not been born.” Matt 26:24b (NIV)


He controlled the money bag

dipped into the money bag

dipped with Jesus at table

mingled with Him

chewed the fat

as they roasted fish

along the shore of the Galilee


Judas watched Him heal

the blind and lame

even raise the dead

was there when He fed

hungry multitudes

calmed a raging squall

and walked billow to billow

upon the storm-tossed sea


He heard Him teach

beatitudes, parables

even how to pray

observed His tenderness

as children climbed

upon His lap

observed His mercy

to those who sinned much


The day Mary anointed Jesus’ feet

with extravagant nard

and dried them

with her unpinned hair

it was he who complained

the perfume should have been sold

the money given to the poor—

yes, it was he, holder

of the purse strings


When this same apostle agreed

to betray his master

for a handful of silver

did he think

the Miracle Worker

would somehow slip away

unscathed, as He had

the day He was driven

out of the synagogue

by an angry mob

intent on throwing Him

off a cliff


Woe to the mercenary

betrayer of the Son of Man

…Mammon had always been

his greater god


Their final evening

at the Paschal meal

the Master stooped

to wash filth

from His betrayer’s feet


Judas partook of the Bread

drank of the Wine

and when Jesus dipped a morsel

and gave it to him

from His very own hand

the taker took that, too


Later, in the garden

following Jesus’ great travail

Judas approached Him

with armed cohorts

called Him, “Rabbi”

kissed his face

still damp with blood and sweat

as the Rabbi called him, “Friend”


The word echoed

echoed, echoed

in thunderous


till he flung

the tarnished coins

through temple doors

till he tied

a ragged noose around his neck

and hanged his wretched self

from a jutting twisted limb


Maude Carolan

The above poem is one of 95 about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus, written over a period of 30 years, that are included in my book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" You can purchase the book through Amazon or Barnes & Noble. For more information, visit my website at
Maude Carolan Pych, author.

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Agony in the Garden


 Until Resurrection Day...

The poem that follows is a personal recollection from the Garden of Gethsemane, during the combination pilgrimage/honeymoon that Bob and I spent in the Holy Land in 2006.

Image credit:


Israel Pilgrimage—2006


We are given a little time to stroll

through a grove of olive trees—

the Garden of Gethsemane


Gethsemane means olive press

I am a living olive press

I walk along the path

trampling ripened fruit

beneath my feet


The ancient trees

which sometimes live

more than 4,000 years

have taken on characteristics

of crippled old men

Sinewy twisted limbs

are gnarled and pocked

The bark is jagged and grey


A few ripe black olives remain

dangling from branches

like little ebony orbs


As I meander, I wonder

about my Savior

and the night before

He was crucified

The night He prayed

among trees such as these

the night He asked His Father

if the cup could be removed


Surely, the crushing weight

of the olive press

bore heavily upon His shoulders

as He offered a prayer so deep

so utterly wrenching

the intensity of its passion

caused His Body

to sweat blood from His pores

Oh, my Jesus!


I shudder—


We come together

for an anointing service

Jonathan asks what we would like

to be anointed for

He touches each forehead

with fragrant oil

and prays


I ask for words

to give glory to the Lord

in my poems


Bob asks to draw closer to God

and adds his desire

that the Lord will always be

at the center of our marriage—


Oh, sweet bridegroom

thank you for your precious

honeymoon prayer


Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Tuesday, March 23, 2021

"Remembering Good Fridays"


Until Resurrection Day...




When I was a young girl, back in the ’50s

my grandmother said

there should be no talking on Good Friday

between the hours of one and three


no running around, no radio, and no TV

all out of respect for our Savior

Who suffered and died

upon the Cross at Calvary


so try though I did to be silent and still

I was as fidgety, squirmy and irksome

as any healthy active kid would be

who had not yet grasped

the profound depth of what happened

that terrible good day when Jesus died


and in the 70’s when my own children

were young and restless

I would bring them to church

during the very same hours Grandma decreed

to venerate the Holy Cross

We’d approach the altar

where the Crucifix was displayed

kneel down and kiss the nail-pierced feet of Jesus

or solemnly watch a reenactment of the Passion

by the youth group


Now, so many years later

now that I am a grandmother myself

I sit without fidgeting and fumbling

willingly turn off the radio and the TV

and carve out meaningful time to meditate

upon all my precious Lord endured

to save me from my sins


Sometimes I sing

“Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?”

Sometimes I weep

and sometimes, like today, I write a poem


Always, Jesus’ great sacrifice breaks my heart

and always, looking back

at that astonishing empty tomb

I’m reminded of the Hallelujah Hope

I have in Him—which is eternal


Grandma would be so pleased


Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

By Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

For information go to

Monday, March 22, 2021

One Good Friday...


Until Resurrection Day...



Good Friday, 2002



sad, somewhat guilty…

Usually, I’d have found time

in the afternoon

to sit meditatively

and ponder the significance

of this day

Sometimes I wrote poems

or sat quietly in a church

I might have listened

to a radio preacher

or just sung, soulfully

about the house

that old, haunting hymn chorus


“O sometimes it causes me

to tremble…tremble…tremble”[1]


Eased into the day, holy

with a long, tepid bath

and a little book

about six miracles of Calvary –

Began contemplating the darkness

that fell upon the land

for three hours


but after that

the cares of this world

sent me scurrying helter-skelter

scrubbing the kitchen floor

returning curtains to JC Penney

grocery shopping for Easter dinner

Any meaningful reflections faded

in my slide from Mary to Martha


Returning from an errand, edgy

I was stopped at a light

on Union Boulevard

Don’t know what kind of a car

was in front of me

but in front of that car

was a black Bronco


On back of the Bronco

black on black was

the Crucifixion

Jesus, dying

in utter darkness

His head bent

shoulders thrust forward

like so many paintings I’ve seen


What was this?


After a moment, I realized

it was merely a reflection—

a silhouette cast by the shadow

of a telephone pole

and street lamp…

But it seemed real


I looked at the clock

It was 2:45


I drive up and down

Union Boulevard

day after day

year after year

but it was this day

this hour

this moment of need

He chose

to show me

yet again

all He did 

for me


Maude Carolan

[1] “Were You There” was likely composed by African-American slaves in the 19th century. It was first published in William Eleazar Barton’s 1899 “Old Plantation Hymns.”

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"
by Maude Carolan Pych
is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.