"The Dungeon"

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

THE DUNGEON

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

trembled…trembled…trembled

imagining how terribly Jesus suffered

to wash my sins away

Maude Carolan Pych

3/24/12 Rev 4 3/25/18

---

[1] Psalm 22:17-18 NASB

Notes: Rev. Wayne Monbleau, mentioned in this poem, is the host of "Let's Talk About Jesus" call-in radio counseling program. He was the leader of my 1986 pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

The above poem, "The Dungeon" appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For information, go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

Wonders in the Sky...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

BLOOD SKY—

Good Friday 2014, Packanack Lake, New Jersey

“I will display wonders in the sky and on the earth, blood, fire and columns of smoke. The sun will be turned into darkness and the moon into blood before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes.” Joel 2:30-31 NASB

The alarm went off at 3:00 a.m., Tuesday

We went outdoors to gaze at the sky

hoping to get a glimpse

of the first blood moon of the tetrad—

Passover, 2014

It was there, but we couldn’t see it

Dense clouds obscured our view

Blood moon or not, this week is crimson—

I’ve been thinking about blood in the Nile

blood on the lintels

death of the firstborn sons

I bought blood oranges in Fairway, yesterday

Had one for breakfast. It was sweet

Today is Good Friday—

I am meditating upon the atonement

the Cross, the death of my Savior

Now it’s evening—

I’m on my way to the Good Friday service

at the Jerusalem Center in Wayne

As I drive down Osborne Terrace

approaching Packanack Lake

the sky is incredible—amazing—red as blood

fiery red, red like I’ve never seen it before

As the setting sun shines on the still water

the lake mirrors the brilliant crimson firmament

and I can’t help thinking of old Moses

as he dipped his staff into the Nile river

At the Jerusalem Center, the dancers

fittingly extol the Lamb Who was slain, and

Jonathan speaks of the sun setting and rising—

endings and beginnings

and I feel God may be telling me something, or

am I so deeply aware of Him this holy week

that I see Him everywhere

and in every blessed thing

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. You can order a copy online at Amazon or Barnes & Noble. For information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com. The book is depicted below:

Here I am with a copy of my book
found on the shelves of Barnes & Noble
Woodland Park, NJ.

The End of the Book...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: crosswalk.com

I’VE READ THE END OF THE BOOK   

Twice I heard Tony Campolo deliver

his famous and rousing sermon

It’s Friday, but Sunday’s Comin’!

at the Great Auditorium in Ocean Grove

Tony drummed home the point

that everything may look bleak on Friday, but…

come Sunday…Sunday changes everything!

Now, I’m not thinking of just any dark and bleak Friday

I’m thinking about the original Good Friday—

thinking the only reason I can bear

to contemplate that good and terrible day

is because I know

a few days later there was

a mind-blowing, miraculous Sunday—

…Resurrection Sunday!

The disciples didn’t have

the advantage I have—

They didn’t understand

life after death

couldn’t comprehend

atonement for sin

just didn’t get it

that their teacher and friend, Jesus

could die upon a cross

for the sins of the world

They didn’t realize

they were in the middle of miracles

Didn’t know the future—

Sure, they may have read portions of the Scrolls

but they didn’t have the whole wonderful Book

                                                         

I do have the whole Book

I’ve read ahead

and studied the pages      

I know that what follows

the Good Friday story

is the victorious hope-giving

hallelujah happy ending

I know my sins are forgiven

know I’m going to live forever

Yes, I know what happened next

and that makes all the difference

Maude Carolan Pych

Note: The above poem is one of 98 included in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. You can order it online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For information, go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

The Last Supper

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: messiahjesuschrist.org

COMMEMORATING THE LAST SUPPER

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—

Pentecost

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

Note: The above poem is one of 98 poems in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. It is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For more information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com. The book is depicted below:

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

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: goodfridayquotes2019.com

WHAT'S SO "GOOD" ABOUT IT?

When I was a child

I could hardly wait for Easter

could hardly wait to wear my new spring dress

and the flowery straw bonnet with velvet ribbon streamers

could hardly wait for the basket of marshmallow chocolates

tiny jelly beans and bright colored eggs

to magically appear in my bedroom

compliments of a big white bunny

Oh, the wonders of childhood’s imaginings…

I was glad about the Resurrection, too, of course

But first I had to get through Lent and "Good" Friday

first I had to sacrifice

and give a lot of serious consideration

to Jesus

first I had to think about a nice holy man

dying

a terrible death

upon a horrible cross

and I had to try to understand

that He died that awful death

for me!

I preferred, of course

to think about chocolate, bunnies, and bonnets

rather than scourging, thorns

and nails

Good? I thought…

What could possibly

be "Good" about it?

I wanted to call it "Bad Friday"

"Cruel Friday" or

"Why Did God Have To Have It Happen That Way Friday?"

Of course

I was too young to understand…then

Now I realize

a basket-bearing bunny on Easter

cannot be compared to what happened

that particular cosmic Friday

at the Cross

Now I know

what's so "Good" about it

is that it's followed by

that Stone-Blown-Out-of-the-Tomb-Sunday!!!

that Jesus-Was-Dead…But-Now-He-Lives--Hallelujah-Sunday!!!

and that

my brothers and sisters

is very, very, very

Good!!!

Maude Carolan Pych

.Note: The above poem is included in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. The book is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com. The book is depicted below:

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

"Mary of Magdala"

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: christophercrandolph.wordpress.com

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

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. The book is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com

In My Moment of Need...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

THE BLACK BRONCO

Good Friday, 2002

Discontented

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 19^th century. It was first published in William Eleazar Barton’s 1899 “Old Plantation Hymns.”

Note: The above poem is one of 98 poems about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus, included in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" Elm Hill Press. The book, depicted below, is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For more information, go to http://maudecarolanpych.com.

Behold the Lamb...poetically!
By Maude Carolan Pych

Name Above All Names

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: jesustrek.live

THE NAME

YHVH

the tetragrammaton

the unutterable

four consonants

of the Most Holy Name

of the Great I Am

Who was, Who is

Who is to come

Whose radiant Face

eyes of mortals

could not behold

and live

Whose Holy Ark

mere mortals

could not touch

and live

until He

Who always was

came in the Person

of His Son

and mortals flocked

to hear Him speak

children climbed

upon His lap

sick and lowly

sought His touch

even grasped

at His hem

By His Word

even the dead arose

When He

Who always was

shed His innocent Blood

upon Calvary’s Cross

the thick woven veil

to the Holy of Holies

tore top to bottom

that all may enter in

By His Holy Name

Salvation comes

Now we know Him

as our Brother

Savior, Friend

We call Him

Jesus/Yeshua

the Messiah

Maude Carolan

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: heatonkent.com

WOOD & NAILS

I.

His splintered hands sand silky smooth

every ding and bump and groove;

then Joseph measures every piece—

hammers nailheads with expertise.

He's built fine cradles, but this one

is extra-special. It's for his Son.

He moves Babe Jesus from the trough

to the cradle; He's swaddled, soft.

The manger scene, quaint and lowly

now more befits One Who's holy.

Joseph, years hence will reap a thrill—

he'll teach the boy carpentry skills.

II.

Shoved on crossbeams, Jesus' body.

Crude wood. Workmanship is shoddy.

Men grab His wrists. They pound the nails.

They watch Him wince; His color pales.

They lift the Cross; taunt till He dies.

The air is pierced by women's cries.

The sky grows dark. The dry earth quakes.

O hear the hissing of the Snake…

Then…

Holy of Holies veil is torn—

Sin is atoned! Salvation born!

God’s Master Plan, now understood—

began and ends with nails and wood.

Maude Carolan

Note: The above poem appears in my new book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!"  Elm Hill Press. It's available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble. For information go to http://maudecarolanpych.com. The book is depicted below.