forsaken

Pieces of wood . . . to build one cross

/ Eric Mathews / Leave a comment
 
Pieces of wood,
broken and burnt,
stained with blood of family,
derelict in the smouldering heap.
The smell of death
in dusty roads,
sounds of weeping,
darkness and gloom.
 
Pieces of wood
pierce the wounded side,
lightning and thunder,
shots of gunfire,
rending cries of
mothers and daughters
in the sleepless houses
waiting for the first light.
 
My God, my God, why have you abandoned us?
why have you forgotten us,
forsaken us?
 
Cry rage and revenge,
slaughter and destruction.
How long will this be,
terror in the faces of children,
hatred and fear,
over a wilderness of shacks,
the other side of the city wall,
longing for peace?
 
My God, my God, why have you abandoned us?
why have you forgotten us,
forsaken us?
 
Come,
let us carry these pieces of wood,
once part of the same ancient tree
used to build houses, proud and sturdy,
now charred ruins of dwelling places,
scattered and aloof.
 
Bind piece with piece
to build one cross.
 
Cross of Bhambayi
shelter me,
hide me from the
pain and agony
as the blood,
like justice,
flows from the cross.
 
From the soil
sprouts a new year of freedom and healing
for captives
maimed in body and
maimed in hope.
 
Sacred mystery
on the holy ground,
tree of redemption,
the flowering tree which withers
and blossoms again
from Eden to Calvary
to Easter . . .
to Bhambayi . . . 
 
Devarkshanam Betty Govinden, South African academic, author and poet
 
________________________
 
 
Together as one body, Christ reconciled both groups to God 
    by means of his death on the cross, 
    and our hostility toward each other was put to death.
 

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Why have You forsaken me?

/ Eric Mathews / Leave a comment
Study for Crucifixion (1947) by Graham Sutherland, CC BY-NC 2.0
 
 
Lord, 
you were not only tempted for forty days down by the Jordan 
but constantly all through your ministry.
 
Not to obvious blatant sins
but to the subtler deflections from the Father’s will;
to cunning compromise which would defeat the Father’s purpose.
 
As when the presence of the seeking Greeks
suggested the possibility of a wider mission
in which you might have been listened to and welcomed,
without the necessity of the cross.
 
As when in the Garden of Olives across the valley,
you wrestled with the doubt that death could be the Father’s will.
 
Or when, in the presence of Pilate
you might have pleaded your case with your accusers;
or in those fiercest moments of pain,
acquiesced to the mocking cry of the crowd to
    ‘Come down from the cross and we will believe,’
 
Until one temptation remained –
the final test, the last claim of love,
the fiercest attack of evil –
more subtle and shattering than the rest,
when, cloaked in a blanket of darkness
came the whispering doubt:
    What if God too has forsaken you?
 
And at last, the battle done, the last temptation met,
faith complete, the task finished, evil defeated,
love triumphant, you said:
    ‘Father into your hands I commend my spirit –
    the rest lies with you, Father, dear Father.’
 
And then it was that by the cross with its limp body
there must surely have sounded the voice from heaven 
    once more:
    ‘This is my beloved Son.’
    Son in call,
    Son in obedience,
    Son in love
    Son in death and in triumphant life.
 
George Appleton, 1902 – 1993, Anglican Bishop in England and Jerusalem
 
_____________________
 
 
It was now about noon, 
    and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon,
    for the sun stopped shining. 
And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 
Jesus called out with a loud voice, 
    “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
When he had said this, he breathed his last.
 

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Come, Lord, enter my heart

/ Eric Mathews / Leave a comment
image / pixabay / public domain
 
Come, Lord, enter my heart,
    you who are crucified, who have died, who love,
    who are faithful, truthful, patient, and humble,
    you who have taken upon yourself a slow and toilsome life
    in a single corner of the world,
    denied by those who are your friends,
    betrayed by them, subjected to the law,
    made the plaything of politics right from the very first,
    a refugee child, a carpenter’s son, a creature who found
    only barrenness and futility as a result of his labors,
    a man who loved and who found no love in response,
    you who were too exalted for those about you to understand,
    you who were left desolate,
    who were brought to the point of feeling yourself forsaken by God,
    you who sacrificed all,
    who commend yourself into the hands of your Father,
    you who cry, “My God, my Father, why have you forsaken me?”
 
I will receive you as you are,
    make you the innermost law of my life,
    take you as at once the burden and the strength of my life.
 
When I receive you I accept my everyday just as it is.
I do not need to have any lofty feelings in my heart to recount to you.
I can lay my everyday before you just as it is,
    for I receive it from you yourself,
    the everyday and its inward light,
    the everyday and its meaning,
    the everyday and the power to endure it,
    the sheer familiarity of it,
    which becomes the dimmedness of your eternal life.
 
Karl Rahner, 1904 – 1984, German Jesuit theologian
 
_______________________________
 
 
And this is eternal life, 
    that they know you the only true God, 
    and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.

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