Jesus and Nicodemus: Art for Lent 2A

Harold Copping, Nicodemus

James Tissot, Jesus and Nicodemus, from the Brooklyn Museum of Art

Jesuit House Iñigo, Bruges, Belgium, carving of  Jesus and  Nicodemus, 1880

Richard Hook, Jesus and Modern-day Nicodemus

Jesus and Nicodemus, Jesus Mafa

Henry Ossawa Tanner, Nicodemus Visiting Jesus, 1899

Henry Ossawa Tanner, study for Nicodemus Visiting Jesus, 1899

Henry Ossawa Tanner, another study for Nicodemus Visitn Jesus, 1899

The Call of Abraham

“Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country.’ ” --Genesis 12:1 

Talk about imperious. 
Without a by-your-leave, 
Or, may I presume? 
No previous contact, 
no letter of introduction, 
no greeting, 
just out of the blue 
this unknown God 
issues edicts. 

This is not a conversation. 
Am I a nobody 
to receive decrees 
from one whose name 
I do not know? 
And at our first encounter!

I have worshipped my own god. 
To you I have addressed no prayers, 
offered no sacrifices, 
asked no favors, 
but quick, 
like sudden fire in the desert, 
without the most elemental ritual, 
I hear “Go.”

At seventy-five, 
Am I supposed to scuttle my life, 
take that ancient wasteland, Sarai, 
place my thin arthritic bones 
upon the road 
to some mumbled nowhere?

Let me get this straight.
I will be brief. 
I summarize. 
In ten generations since the Flood 
you have spoken to no one.

You give commands: 
pull up my tent, 
desert my home, 
the graves of my ancestors, 
my friends next door, 
leave Haran 
for a country you do not name, 
there to be a stranger,
a sojourner.

God of the wilderness, 
from two desiccated lumps, 
from two parched prunes 
you promise to make a great nation. 
In me all peoples of the earth
will be blessed.

You come late, Lord, very late,
but my camels leave in the morning. 

-- Fr. Kilian McDonnell, OSB (1921- ), American monk, poet, and theologian at St. John's Abbey

Relevant Scripture: Genesis 12:1-4a, Lent 2A

Painting: Francesco Bassano, Abraham Leaves Haran, 1560-1592

Morning Hymn

Christ, whose glory fills the skies, 
Christ, the true, the only light,
Sun of Righteousness, arise, 
Triumph o’er the shades of night: 
Day-spring from on high, be near: 
Day-star, in my heart appear.

Dark and cheerless is the morn 
Unaccompanied by thee, 
Joyless is the day’s return, 
Till thy mercy’s beams I see; 
Till thy inward light impart, 
Glad my eyes, and warm my heart. 

Visit then this soul of mine,
Pierce the gloom of sin, and grief, 
Fill me, Radiancy Divine, 
Scatter all my unbelief, 
More and more thyself display, 
Shining to the perfect day.

- Charles Wesley (17907-1788), Anglican priest, poet, and musician, and one of the founders of Methodism

Related Scripture: Psalm 15, Epiphany 4A

The Worship of Nature

The harp at Nature’s advent strung 
Has never ceased to play; 
The song the stars of morning sung 
Has never died away. 

And prayer is made, and praise is given, 
By all things near and far; 
The ocean looketh up to heaven, 
And mirrors every star.

Its waves are kneeling on the strand, 
As kneels the human knee, 
Their white locks bowing to the sand, 
The priesthood of the sea!

They pour their glittering treasures forth, 
Their gifts of pearl they bring, 
And all the listening hills of earth 
Take up the song they sing.

The green earth sends her incense up
From many a mountain shrine;
From folded leaf and dewy cup
She pours her sacred wine.

The mists above the morning rills
Rise white as wings of prayer;
The altar-curtains of the hills
Are sunset’s purple air.

The winds with hymns of praise are loud,
Or low with sobs of pain,—
The thunder-organ of the cloud,
The dropping tears of rain.

With drooping head and branches crossed
The twilight forest grieves,
Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost
From all its sunlit leaves.

The blue sky is the temple’s arch,
Its transept earth and air,
The music of its starry march
The chorus of a prayer. 

So Nature keeps the reverent frame
With which her years began,
And all her signs and voices shame
The prayerless heart of man.

-- John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892), American Quaker poet and abolitionist. 

Related: Psalm 99

brothers

(being a conversation in eight poems between an aged Lucifer and God, though only Lucifer is heard. The time is long after.) 

1 
invitation 

come coil with me 
here in creation’s bed 
among the twigs and ribbons 
of the past. i have grown old 
remembering the garden,
the hum of the great cats 
moving into language, the sweet 
fume of the man’s rib 
as it rose up and began to walk. 
it was all glory then, 
the winged creatures leaping 
like angels, the oceans claiming 
their own. let us rest here a time 
like two old brothers
who watched it happen and wondered
what it meant. 

2 
how great Thou art 

listen. 
You are beyond 
even Your own understanding. 
that rib and rain and clay 
in all its pride, 
its unsteady dominion, 
is not what you believed
You were,
but it is what You are; 
in your own image as some 
lexicographer supposed. 
the face, both he and she, 
the odd ambition, the desire 
to reach beyond the stars 
is You. all You, all You 
the loneliness, the perfect 
imperfection.

3
as for myself

less snake than angel 
less angel than man 
how come i to this 
serpent’s understanding? 
watching creation from
a hood of leaves
i have foreseen the evening
of the world.
as sure as she 
the breast of Yourself 
separated out and made to bear, 
as sure as her returning, 
i too am blessed with 
the one gift You cherish; 
to feel the living move in me 
and to be unafraid.

4 
in my own defense 

 what could I choose 
but to slide along behind them, 
they whose only sin 
was being their father’s children? 
as they stood with their backs 
to the garden, 
a new and terrible luster 
burning their eyes, 
only You could have called 
their ineffable names, 
only in their fever 
could they have failed to hear.

5 
the road led from delight 

into delight. into the sharp 
edge of seasons, into the sweet 
puff of bread baking, the warm 
vale of sheet and sweat after love, 
the tinny newborn cry of calf 
and cormorant and humankind. 
and pain, of course, 
always there was some bleeding, 
but forbid me not 
my meditation on the outer world 
before the rest of it, before 
the bruising of his heel, my head, 
and so forth.

6 
“the silence of God is God.” —Carolyn Forch

tell me, tell us why 
in the confusion of a mountain 
of babies stacked like cordwood, 
of limbs walking away from each other, 
of tongues bitten through 
by the language of assault, 
tell me, tell us why 
You neither raised your hand 
Nor turned away, tell us why 
You watched the excommunication of 
That world and You said nothing. 

7 
still there is mercy, there is grace

how otherwise 
could I have come to this 
marble spinning in space 
propelled by the great
thumb of the universe?
how otherwise 
could the two roads 
of this tongue 
converge into a single 
certitude? 
how otherwise 
could I, a sleek old 
traveler, 
curl one day safe and still 
beside YOU 
at Your feet, perhaps, 
but, amen, Yours.

8 
“.........is God.”

so. 
having no need to speak 
You sent Your tongue 
splintered into angels. 
even I, 
with my little piece of it 
have said too much. 
to ask You to explain 
is to deny You. 
before the word 
You were. 
You kiss my brother mouth. 
the rest is silence.

--Lucille Clifton (1936-2010), African American poet, teacher, and professor, from The Book of Light, 1993.

Scripture reference: Romans 5:12-19, Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7, Lent 1A

Sonnet

The late Gracie Allen was a very lucid comedienne,
Especially in the way that lucid means shining and bright.
What her husband George Burns called her illogical logic
Made a halo around our syntax and ourselves as we laughed.

George Burns most often was her artful inconspicuous straight man.
He could move people about stage, construct skits and scenes, write
And gather jokes. They were married as long as ordinary magic
Would allow, thirty-eight years, until Gracie Allen's death.

In her fifties Gracie Allen developed a heart condition. 
She would call George Burns when her heart felt funny and fluttered 
He'd give her a pill and they'd hold each other till the palpitation 
Stopped—just a few minutes, many times and pills. As magic fills 
Then fulfilled must leave a space, one day Gracie Allen's 
      heart fluttered 
And hurt and stopped. George Burns said unbelievingly to the doctor, 
     "But I still have some of the pills."

--Alice Notley (1945- ) from Grave of Light: New and Selected Poems, 1970-2005.

Prayer, day 2587

Jesus, you are our lamp in our waking:
let us be filled with your light.
Jesus, you are our confessor for our sins:
let us bend the knee of our hearts in penitence and repentance.
Jesus, you are our companion in our day's journey:
let us be guided by your Spirit.
Jesus, you are our healer for our wounds and sorrows:
let us open our spirits to your touch.

Your gospel of Love, Lord, is the root of our humanity.
Your fellowship, Lord, reminds us that we are all One.
Your mercy, Lord, is the ground of our hope.
Your grace, Lord, reminds us that eternal life begins now.
Help us to claim our heritage as your children:
renew us, that we recover our wonder and compassion.

May our prayers rise like incense to your throne,
O Holy One:
draw under your sheltering arm those for whom we pray.

Amen.

Eden

A learned and a happy ignorance 
Divided me 
From all the vanity, 
From all the sloth, care, pain, and sorrow that advance 
The madness and the misery Of men. 
No error, no distraction I 
Saw soil the earth, or overcloud the sky.

I knew not that there was a serpent’s sting.
Whose poison shed 
On men, did overspread 
The world; nor did I dream of such a thing 
As sin, in which mankind lay dead. 
They all were brisk and living wights to me, 
Yea, pure and full of immortality. 

Joy, pleasure, beauty, kindness, glory, love, 
Sleep, day, life, light,
Peace, melody, my sight, 
My ears and heart did fill and freely move. 
All that I saw did me delight. 
The Universe was then a world of treasure, 
To me an universal world of pleasure.

Unwelcome penitence was then unknown, 
Vain costly toys,
Swearing and roaring boys,
Shops, markets, taverns, coaches, were unshown;
So all things were that drown’d my joys:
No thorns chok’d up my path, nor hid the face
Of bliss and beauty, nor eclips’d the place.

Only what Adam in his first estate,
Did I behold;
Hard silver and dry gold
As yet lay under ground; my blessed fate
Was more acquainted with the old
And innocent delights which he did see
In his original simplicity. 

Those things which first his Eden did adorn, 
My infancy
Did crown. Simplicity 
Was my protection when I first was born. 
Mine eyes those treasures first did see 
Which God first made. The first effects of love 
My first enjoyments upon earth did prove;

And were so great, and so divine, so pure; 
So fair and sweet,
So true; when I did meet
Them here at first, they did my soul allure,
And drew away my infant feet
Quite from the works of men; that I might see
The glorious wonders of the Deity.

--Thomas Traherne (1636-1674), English priest, poet, theologian


Scriptural reference: Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7, Lent 1A

Litany of Penitence, from the Book of Common Prayer

Litany of Penitence 

The Celebrant and People together, all kneeling
 Most holy and merciful Father:
We confess to you and to one another,
and to the whole communion of saints
in heaven and on earth,
that we have sinned by our own fault
in thought, word, and deed;
by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.

The Celebrant continues 
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.
Have mercy on us, Lord. 

We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us. We have not been true to the mind of Christ. We have grieved your Holy Spirit.
Have mercy on us, Lord. 

We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness: the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives,
We confess to you, Lord. 

Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people,
We confess to you, Lord.

Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves,
We confess to you, Lord.

Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work,
We confess to you, Lord. 

Our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to commend the faith that is in us,
We confess to you, Lord.

Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done: for our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty,
Accept our repentance, Lord.

For all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us,
Accept our repentance, Lord.

For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us,
Accept our repentance, Lord.

Restore us, good Lord, and let your anger depart from us;
Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great. 

Accomplish in us the work of your salvation,
That we may show forth your glory in the world.

By the cross and passion of your Son our Lord,
Bring us with all your saints to the joy of his resurrection. 

The Bishop, if present, or the Priest, stands and, facing the people, says 
Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who desires not the death of sinners, but rather that they may turn from their wickedness and live, has given power and commandment to his ministers to declare and pronounce to his people, being penitent, the absolution and remission of their sins. He pardons and absolves all those who truly repent, and with sincere hearts believe his holy Gospel.

Therefore we beseech him to grant us true repentance and his Holy Spirit, that those things may please him which we do on this day, and that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and holy, so that at the last we may come to his eternal joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Peace is then exchanged.

Psalm 51, from the Book of Common Prayer

Psalm 51 
Miserere mei, Deus

 1 Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving-kindness; *
    in your great compassion blot out my offenses.
 2 Wash me through and through from my wickedness *
    and cleanse me from my sin.
 3 For I know my transgressions, *
    and my sin is ever before me.
 4 Against you only have I sinned *
    and done what is evil in your sight.
 5 And so you are justified when you speak *
    and upright in your judgment
 6 Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth, *
    a sinner from my mother's womb.
 7 For behold, you look for truth deep within me, *
    and will make me understand wisdom secretly.
 8 Purge me from my sin, and I shall be pure; *
    wash me, and I shall be clean indeed.
 9 Make me hear of joy and gladness, *
    that the body you have broken may rejoice.
10 Hide your face from my sins *
    and blot out all my iniquities.
11 Create in me a clean heart, O God, *
    and renew a right spirit within me.
12 Cast me not away from your presence *
    and take not your holy Spirit from me.
13 Give me the joy of your saving help again *
    and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.
14 I shall teach your ways to the wicked, *
    and sinners shall return to you.
15 Deliver me from death, O God, *
    and my tongue shall sing of your righteousness, O God of my salvation.
16 Open my lips, O Lord, *
    and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.
17 Had you desired it, I would have offered sacrifice; *
    but you take no delight in burnt-offerings.
18 The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit; *
    a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.