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

Want to read more poems?

Visit my website for information about how to purchase my books of poetry. 

Go to

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 

Visit my website...

You'll find more poems, photos, videos

and information about ordering my books.

Go to

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