At the Mount of Beatitudes

 

Photo credit: Youtube.com

BLESSED AT THE MOUNT OF BEATITUDES

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.

Mt. Beatitudes

Photo credit: holyland-pilgrimage.org

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Come, Holy Spirit...

 Chag Shavuot Sameach!

Happy Pentecost!

ACTS, CHAPTER 2

 

Sometimes—

when I read my Bible

I imagine myself

there, in the rumpled, dog-eared pages

where and when remarkable things

were happening

 

For instance—

Oh, I wish I could’ve been

in the room that morning in Jerusalem

on the Day of Pentecost

when an astonishing sound

of rushing wind came from Heaven

and filled the place with the Holy Spirit

 

wish I could’ve been among

the crowd of bewildered people

clutching garments and belongings

securing food baskets and money bags

amid the sound of whirring wind

wondering what was going on

 

I would’ve seen with startled eyes

blazing tongues of fire appear

then split and rest above us all

would’ve heard the Galileans

miraculously uttering languages

they did not know

proclaiming good news

to people of every nation

 

Oh, joy! Euphoria!

 

I would’ve heard

preposterous ridicule and accusations

that we were drunk with wine

Drunk with wine so early in the morning!

 

Had I been there, I would’ve seen

Peter stand with his brethren

and quote the prophet, Joel

and speak of Jesus

Crucifixion, Resurrection

and call us to repent

 

and finally, would’ve witnessed

three thousand souls receive salvation

and I would’ve been in that number

 

Oh! How great that would’ve been

How exciting to imagine

 

but, I didn’t need to be there

God had other plans—

 

On another Holy Pentecost

His Spirit came to rest on me

just as surely as it did

on the early believers

in Jerusalem, that day

 

and just the same as they

I have been changed

 

forever

 

Maude Carolan Pych

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We Visit Jacob's Well...

 

A CUP OF WATER FROM JACOB’S WELL

Israel Pilgrimage—1986

 

We arrive at Shechem

and make our way

to Jacob’s Well

 

It surprises me to find

this ancient water source

that I first read about in Genesis

still operating

 

and I’m astonished

to be offered

a refreshing cupful

drawn deeply

from a bucket on a rope

 

The water is clear and cool

and tastes ordinary, but

what can be ordinary

about water drawn

from the very well

of the old patriarch

built 4000 years ago

the very well

where Jesus revealed Himself

as the Messiah

to a woman of Samaria

 

I purchase a small ceramic urn

filled with an ounce or so

of life’s most basic sustenance

It is sealed with a plug of wax

 

I’ll place it on a shelf at home

not because of any

mystical or magical powers

 

(It is ordinary water, after all)

 

but to remind me

of how far back in time

God’s amazing story goes

 

Maude Carolan Pych

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"Abba, Father..."

 

Image credit: "A Branch in the Vine"

THE GOSPEL, BEFORE MY EYES

Israel Pilgrimage—1986

 

It happened so fast

so naturally

in Jerusalem's Cardo

while I was

in Israel

on pilgrimage

that I didn’t grasp

the profound significance

until afterward—

 

Double doors opened

A tall bearded man

wearing a yarmulke

entered at a leisurely pace

 

Moments later

the doors were pushed again

by a sobbing boy

no more than five or six

He ran in, wailing:

 

Abba…Abba!

Abba… Abba!

 

The father turned around

and swooped his child

into his arms

 

In an instant

the boy's tears

turned

to laughter

 

Maude Carolan

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Blow a Shofar in Zion

 

MARCO SOUNDS THE SHOFAR

Israel Pilgrimage—2006

 

Marco bought a shofar in Galilee—

a long and spiraled Yemenite shofar

made from the horn

of a kudo antelope

 

With a deep and steady breath

Marco blows its harrowing thunder

over the Mount of Olives

the Western Wall

the Jordan River

and just about every site

we visit in holy Zion

 

trumpeting its long distinctive wail

to jolt us from our complacency—

 

Wake up!

 

Warning all hearers:

 

Prepare! Repent!

 

Wake up! Oh Sleepers—

Wake up! and follow the Lord, your God!

 

Anne brought her tambourine

from New Jersey—

It’s shaped like a Star of David

Colorful ribbons stream

from its six points

 

Like Miriam, Anne lifts it high

and dances with delight

praising Adonai with worshipful women

from all over the world

as their swirling skirts sweep the ground

It’s Shabbat, in Jerusalem

at the Western Wall

 

and I bought a tallit in Tiberius—

blue and white like the Israeli flag

with knotted fringes in the corners

to remind me God’s promises are true

 

a traditional prayer shawl

to wrap snuggly around my shoulders

like God’s loving arms

enfolding me

as I pray

 

Maude Carolan Pych

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At Ein Gedi

 

The Springs of Ein Gedi

AT THE WATER BROOKS

Israel Pilgrimage--2006

 

We stop briefly

at a verdant oasis

in the wilderness—

the Springs of Ein Gedi

where long ago in a cave nearby

David spared the life of Saul

 

A crystalline waterfall descends

from high above our heads

into a sparkling pool at our feet

 

Our rabbi tells us

deer and ibex

hyrax and rock badgers

roam these hills

and that in the shade

of the caves

psalmists of old

likely scrawled

timeless verses

 

My mind’s eye

envisions a son of Korah

sitting upon a rock

at the mouth of a cave

ministering unto the Lord

on a hot day—

 

Suddenly a thirsty deer

appears and begins

lapping cool, refreshing water

from the stream—

            hence, Psalm 42

 

As the deer pants

for the water brooks,

So my soul pants

for You, O God…

 

We begin to sing the psalm—

our own souls thirsting

for the Living God

of the ages

 

as our eyes dart about

searching for deer or ibex

 

or a snippet

of Saul’s garment

shorn by the blade

of David’s swift sword

 

Maude Carolan Pych

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Burning Hearts Along Emmaus Road

 

ALONG EMMAUS ROAD

Luke 24 & Isaiah 53 NASB

 

I’m sitting in the kitchen

with my Bible open

reading about the men

who were walking to Emmaus

the Sunday following the Crucifixion

 

thinking how bewildered they were

and dismayed that the one

they supposed was their savior was gone—

He died upon that Cross on Friday

leaving their hopes completely dashed

 

and I’m thinking about Jesus

joining them on their journey

as a complete stranger

bringing the hope of the Gospel

as He explained about Himself in the Tanakh

without revealing that they were actually walking

the seven miles to Emmaus

with their newly Resurrected Lord

 

I flip through the pages

and see Jesus handwritten in the margins

of the Old Testament, over and over

wherever I’ve discovered Him anew

and recall each exciting revelation

 

and imagine their amazement

as they listened to Jesus

revealing Himself as He spoke

about Moses and the Prophets

particularly when He came to the part

about the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53

How exciting it had to have been to hear it

from the lips of the Suffering Servant, Himself—

 

Despised and forsaken

a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief

smitten of God and afflicted

pierced for our transgressions

crushed for our iniquities

by whose scourging we were healed

 

Who like a lamb was led to the slaughter

Who like a sheep, was silent before its shearers

 

assigned a grave with wicked men

but was with a rich man in death

 

He rendered Himself as a guilt offering

and God would prolong His days

 

Jesus…Jesus…Jesus

 

I visualize the men

clutching their burning hearts

 

When they reached their destination

they invited the stranger to stay with them

because the hour was late

 

and as they gathered around a table

to partake of an evening meal

Jesus lifted a loaf to bless—

 

Suddenly their eyes beheld

His nail-pierced hands!

 

and as He broke their humble bread

they recognized Him

 

In that instant Jesus vanished!

 

but the words He spoke

along the road that day

were permanently seared

upon their hearts

 

so they rose from the table

and hurried off that very hour

all the way back to Jerusalem, in the dark

to tell the disciples of all the wonders

that happened that remarkable day

 

Maude Carolan Pych

I'm pleased to announce that my poem, "Sunflower Poem #16," has been selected as an Honorable Mention in the 2023 Allen Ginsberg Poetry Awards, sponsored by the Poetry Center at Passaic County Community College.

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"Mary of Magdala"

 

Image credit: Vine Street Christian Church, Arthur, Illinois

MARY OF MAGDALA

 

Mary of Magdala was privileged—

Like the disciples, she was among the few

who spent time with Jesus, followed Him

considered Him Teacher and Friend

She called Him, Rabboni

 

Mary had lived in darkness with demons

Jesus rid her of their terror

drew her into the Light

and she was grateful

She and the brethren experienced

the wonder of unconditional love

from He, Who personified it, perfectly

 

No doubt Mary was there

when Jesus spoke of things

the multitudes yearned to know

like living the Beatitudes

like eternity, death, and resurrection

like the prophetic sign of Jonah

 

Still, neither she nor the disciples

had a clear understanding

of cosmic events that were about to unfold

 

Then suddenly everything whirled

out of their control

Palm branch homage

hosannas and hallelujahs

quickly turned to betrayal

abduction and a mockery of a trial

 

There were thunderous shouts of

 

Crucify Him! Crucify Him!

 

It was no longer safe

on the streets of Jerusalem

for His followers. They became fearful

Some went into hiding

 

Then, Jesus was Crucified—

 

The earth quaked

and the sky went dark

 

Mary rent her garments and wailed

Full of sorrow, what could she do

except go early the day after the Sabbath

to anoint His dead body

 

but when she arrived at the tomb

It was empty and His body was gone

Angels were there—

resplendent angels, who spoke of resurrection

 

Mary was weeping, utterly bewildered

She couldn’t grasp resurrection—

All she could wonder was

Where was her teacher’s body?

Who took His body away?

 

Suddenly, Rabboni appeared to her

He called her, tenderly by name, but

she couldn’t comprehend

that Him standing there, speaking to her

could possibly be true—

He was dead. Wasn’t He?

 

Mary was struggling to fathom

that the greatest knowledge

ever to befall anyone, anytime, anywhere

befell upon her at that amazing moment

 

This wasn’t a time for weeping—

This was time for rejoicing!

 

She extended her hand to touch Him—

He was Alive! Breathing!

Warm! With flesh and bones—

Indeed, He had risen from the grave!

 

Jesus told her to tell His disciples

so Mary quickly hurried off, proclaiming

 

I have seen the Lord!

 

Oh! It was starting to sink in—

 

The sin of the world was atoned for

by Jesus’ death on the Cross

and by His glorious Resurrection

He became the Firstfruit

of Life Forevermore!

 

Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

 

Maude Carolan Pych

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He is Risen...Alleluia!

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Happy Resurrection Day!

Image credit: Wondrium Daily

RISEN

 

It’s Holy Saturday

 

Dough is rising

on the kitchen counter

 

filling me with thoughts

of rising

 

helium balloons

set free

 

sunrise

over the Sea of Galilee

 

waking up

 

rising

 

soap bubbles

floating skyward

 

seagulls soaring

 

fireworks

booming and bursting

 

jet planes at take-off

 

rocket ships

with long trails of fire

zooming to the moon

 

O, but nothing

 

nowhere

 

and no one

 

has ever done it

 

or will

 

…like Jesus

 

Maude Carolan Pych

Photo credit: constancedenninger.blogspot.com

The poem above is the final one to be posted in my Lenten series,

"A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day."

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Golgotha

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Photo credit: tripadvisor.co.za

THE PLACE OF THE SKULL[1]

“O death, where is your sting?” 1 Cor 15:55

 

Israel Pilgrimage—1987

 

We gather at the base

of a mountainous rock

into which time has carved

the natural image of a human skull

…hence, its chilling name:

Place of the Skull

 

Above this mound lies Golgotha

where on the most significant day

in the history of the world

Jesus of Nazareth was crucified

between two thieves

 

I stare into the hollow eyes

of this ominous image

and am reminded of Ezekiel

and the dry bones

 

bones that took on flesh

and blood and breath

and came to life

before his very eyes

 

Life.

 

Life is what happens at Golgotha

 

Life that is victorious

over the skull and bones. Victorious

over the ominous face of death

 

Life. Everlasting life—

for all atoned of sin

 

who believe

 

Maude Carolan Pych

---

[1] There are two locations worthy of serious consideration as the place of Jesus’ crucifixion and burial, the traditional site lies within the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the other is Gordon’s Calvary (Golgotha/The Place of the Skull) and the Garden Tomb. Ref. Grace Communion International

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"The Pieta"

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: excerptsofinri.com

Maude reading her poem, "The Pieta."

THE PIETA

 

After the earthquake

the peals of thunder

the flashes of lightning across the sky

After the curious crowds dispersed

Mary sat in ominous dimness

upon a mound of earth

at the base of the Cross

clutching the body

of her Son

 

She cradled Him

in the hollow of her lap

close to her bosom

as she had

when he was

her baby boy

 

Mary removed

thorns of mockery

that encircled His forehead

and tossed it to the side

Straining to see in the shadows

she carefully picked

fragments of thorn needles

still stuck in His lifeless flesh

although they couldn’t hurt Him

any longer

 

With her fingertips

she tenderly closed the lids

over His dark, vacant eyes

and smoothed

the disheveled, matted hair

…then she kissed Him

 

O, my beautiful Son…

 

Tears flowed

down her face onto His cheeks

mingling with dried blood

With the edge of her garment

she wiped some blood away

 

John came

and rested his hand

upon her trembling shoulder

He was now her son

She was now his mother

 

Mysteries

too deep to comprehend

swirled in her mind

like the flap and flutter

of wings and overshadowing

Son of the Most High

and David’s throne

 

like pregnant Elizabeth’s joy

when the baby leapt in her womb

and the Baptizer himself, when grown

proclaiming his younger cousin

“The Lamb of God, Who

takes away the sin of the world”

 

and Simeon’s prophesy

that Jesus would be

a Light of revelation

to the Gentiles and the glory

of the people of Israel

 

Where is the Light?

Where is the glory?

Where is the throne?

 

Overwhelmed by sorrow

so intense it stabbed her

deep, deep in her inner parts

Mary cried out in anguish

and rent her robe

 

Was this what old Simeon meant

long ago in the Temple

when he held Jesus in his arms

and said a sword would pierce

my very soul?

 

O my Son, my beautiful Son…

 

I cannot fathom the ways of God, but

 

I do know this cannot be the end

 

Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.com