It Pleased the Lord...

A Poem for Lent...

IT PLEASED THE LORD TO CRUSH HIM[1]

 

When I applied stinging iodine

to the tender knees of my children

or a corrective spank

or a hug to assuage a broken heart

I remember that

their wounds, hurts

even the chastisements

probably wounded me more than them –

Why, I would've become a she-lion

poised to pounce and mangle

bruisers of my own –

yet the very God I know as Love

was pleased to crush

was delighted to bruise[2]

His Very Own

 

So, I shudder, convinced

God's ways are infinitely higher

than my finite mind can grasp –

for God stayed His almighty hand

held His almighty tongue

waited it out in His Heaven

pleased, even delighted

to give His Only Son

innocent, docile as a lamb

to be mocked, bruised, spat upon

crowned with thorn branches

stripped and nailed naked to a tree –

 

yes, pleased and delighted was He

as the Most Precious Blood

of His Only Son

rained like rubies

upon the ground

 

Pleased and delighted am I

that the God Who so loves

crushed and bruised

His Very Own

for me

 

Maude Carolan

[1] Isaiah 53:10 "New American Standard Bible"

[2] Isaiah 53:10 "Young's Literal Translation of the Holy Bible" 

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!" by Maude Carolan Pych, is a book of poems written over a span of 30 years, about the Birth, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus.  It is available online at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

maudecpych.com

What Was God Doing?

 A Poem for Lent...

Image credit: stream.org

WHAT WAS GOD DOING?

 

What was God doing?

What was He thinking

high up in His Heaven

when the Great Climax was unfolding

and His only begotten Son was sweating hemorrhages of blood

in fervent prayer before Him, that night in the garden?

 

What was God doing?

What was He thinking

high up in His Heaven

when His Son was pleading

for the removal of that great Grail of suffering,

yet in submission acquiesced to His Father’s higher will?

 

What was God doing?

What was He thinking

high up in His Heaven

during the sentencing and scourging, spitting and mocking,

as His Perfect Pascal Lamb carried the crossbeam to Calvary,

falling and falling and falling again?

 

What was God doing?

What was He thinking

high up in His Heaven

when they stripped His Beloved,

held His hand to the beam and lifted the hammer

and pounded the spike through sinless flesh?

Did He hold His ears?  Did He turn away?

Did His tears pour down as the blood ran down?

Did He pound His fist?  Scream?

 

What was God doing?

What was He thinking

high up in His Heaven

when His Son cried, “Why...hast Thou...forsaken Me?”

Victory was so close.  Did He almost change His mind?

 

What was God doing?

What was He thinking

high up in His Heaven

when it finally was finished?

Was His heavy heart throbbing

as He darkened the sky and quaked the dry earth,

opened old graves, and breathed life into dead?

Was it with grief or great jubilation

that He tore asunder the curtain to the Holy of Holies?

 

What oh what was God thinking

at that Climax of climaxes

with Satan and sin squashed under His heel,

and after the Ascension,

at Their glorious reunion,

did Father and Son

dance the Hora in Highest Heaven?

 

Maude Carolan

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

maudecpych@gmail.com

"Remembering Good Fridays"

A Poem for Lent...

Image credit: gotquestions.org

REMEMBERING GOOD FRIDAYS

 

When I was a young girl, back in the ’50s

my grandmother said

there should be no talking on Good Friday

between the hours of one and three

 

no running around, no radio, and no TV

all out of respect for our Savior

Who suffered and died

upon the Cross at Calvary

 

so try though I did to be silent and still

I was as fidgety, squirmy, and irksome

as any healthy active kid would be

who had not yet grasped

the profound depth of what happened

that terrible good day when Jesus died

 

and in the '70s when my own children

were young and restless

I would bring them to church

during the very same hours Grandma decreed

to venerate the holy Cross

We’d approach the altar

where the Crucifix was displayed

kneel down and kiss the nail-pierced feet of Jesus

or solemnly watch a reenactment of the Passion

by the youth group

 

Now, so many years later

now that I am a grandmother myself

I sit without fidgeting and fumbling

willingly turn off the radio and the TV

and carve out meaningful time to meditate

upon all my precious Lord endured

to save me from my sins

 

Sometimes I sing

“Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?”

Sometimes I weep

and sometimes, like today, I write a poem

 

Always, Jesus’ great sacrifice breaks my heart

and always, looking back

at that astonishing empty tomb

I’m reminded of the Hallelujah Hope

I have in Him—which is eternal

 

Grandma would be so pleased

 

Maude Carolan Pych

Here's a copy of my book displayed on a shelf 

at Barnes & Noble, Woodland Park, NJ.

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is also available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

maudecpych@gmail.com

About Pontius Pilate...

 A Poem for Lent...

Image credit: azquotes.com

PILATE’S IRONY

 

During my first pilgrimage to Israel

archeologist and guide, Micha Ashkenazi

took us to Caesarea to view a replica

of a piece of limestone

partially inscribed with the name Pontius Pilatus

 

Micha had been a member of the team

that unearthed the stone there

during a dig in 1961

 

It is the only evidence

of the historical existence

of the Roman governor

outside the New Testament

and writings of Josephus Flavius

 

Interesting, Pilate, who may have given

a modicum of credence to his wife’s warning

to have nothing to do with Jesus

did make an abysmal effort

to prevent the crucifixion

by setting Barabbas

before the riled multitude

 

When the crowd shouted to free Barabbas

and called for death to Jesus

their chants of

 

Crucify Him! Crucify Him!

 

drummed in his ears

 

Pilate asked for a basin of water

He washed his hands in front of them—

as if water could possibly cleanse him

of responsibility for what would happen next

 

The irony is that even now

thousands of years hence

contempt for this man is as clear

as his name etched in stone—

 

for wherever believers gather

and proclaim their creed

 

Jesus…

 

suffered under Pontius Pilate

was crucified, dead, and buried…

 

Pilate’s guilt is an indelible stain

that can never be

washed from our minds

 

Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"
by Maude Carolan Pych
is available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net
maudecpych@gmail.com

The Betrayer...

A Poem for Lent...

Image credit: nowstar.net

 

BETTER FOR HIM HAD HE NOT BEEN BORN

“…But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man!

It would be better for him if he had not been born.” Matt 26:24b (NIV)

 

He controlled the money bag

dipped into the money bag

dipped with Jesus at table

mingled with Him

chewed the fat

as they roasted fish

along the shore of the Galilee

 

Judas watched Him heal

the blind and lame

even raise the dead

was there when He fed

hungry multitudes

calmed a raging squall

and walked billow to billow

upon the storm-tossed sea

 

He heard Him teach

beatitudes, parables

even how to pray

observed His tenderness

as children climbed

upon His lap

observed His mercy

to those who sinned much

 

The day Mary anointed Jesus’ feet

with extravagant nard

and dried them

with her unpinned hair

it was he who complained

the perfume should have been sold

the money given to the poor—

yes, it was he, holder

of the purse strings

 

When this same apostle agreed

to betray his master

for a handful of silver

did he think

the Miracle Worker

would somehow slip away

unscathed, as He had

the day He was driven

out of the synagogue

by an angry mob

intent on throwing Him

off a cliff

 

Woe to the mercenary

betrayer of the Son of Man

…Mammon had always been

his greater god

 

Their final evening

at the Paschal meal

the Master stooped

to wash filth

from His betrayer’s feet

 

Judas partook of the Bread

drank of the Wine

and when Jesus dipped a morsel

and gave it to him

from His very own hand

the taker took that, too

 

Later, in the garden

following Jesus’ great travail

Judas approached Him

with armed cohorts

called Him, “Rabbi”

kissed his face

still damp with blood and sweat

as the Rabbi called him, “Friend”

 

The word echoed

echoed, echoed

in thunderous

heartbeats

till he flung

the tarnished coins

through temple doors

till he tied

a ragged noose around his neck

and hanged his wretched self

from a jutting twisted limb

 

Maude Carolan

Here I am with a copy of my book of poetry

about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus...

To order a copy of "Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

just go online to Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

maudecpych@gmail.com

After the Hosannas...

 A Poem for Lent...

Image credit: sharefaith.com

BETWEEN THE PALMS AND THE CROSS

 

It’s Lent—

I’m sitting here meditating

upon that final week

wondering what happened to His followers

after Jesus entered Jerusalem

riding astride a donkey

as people spread their coats before Him

along the dusty road

Wondering about those followers

the ones who cut branches from palm trees

and waved them at Him in homage, proclaiming

 

Hosanna to the Son of David!

Hosanna in the highest!

 

After all, He was their humble King

 

I’m sitting here wondering what happened

between then and days later

when Jesus stood before Pilate

amid a crowd of onlookers

persuasive chief priests and elders

and everyone began shouting

 

Crucify Him! Crucify Him!

 

Did they forget the taste of water

that He turned into wine?

 

Did they forget the healed lepers and the blind?

 

Did they forget Him preaching

to the multitudes, Blessed be the poor…

and the thousands He fed with a few loaves and fish

 

Did they forget He healed a pitiful demoniac

and the woman with an issue of blood

 

Could they have forgotten that he said to the dead girl,

Talitha kum, and she sprang right up and walked

 

And Lazarus? Could they possibly have forgotten

that Jesus called His friend out of the tomb

and Lazarus emerged, grave clothes coiled

around his body…after three days!

 

I’m still sitting here wondering about

how quickly they turned

from their hosannas

to calling for His death

 

Wasn’t there one clear-headed believer

one unable-to-be-swayed witness

one unshakable faithful-unto-death follower

to boldly shout out in protest…

 

No!

 

No. There wasn’t

 

Not even one

 

Maude Carolan Pych

 You will find many more poems about Our Lord

in Maude Carolan Pych's book

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

 The book is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

maudecpych@gmail.com

Led Like a Lamb to Slaughter

 A Poem for Lent...

Image credit: keziaominde.wordpress.com

PACES OF A LAMB

"He was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

and as a sheep before her shearers is silent,

so he did not open his mouth." Isaiah 53:7 N.I.V.

 

Father Bob drained the cup

and replaced the cover

on the brass pyx of Hosts.

Communion over

the two old friends

settled back

in their kitchen chairs

 

A natural storyteller

Leo began to reminisce

about Mr. Sattel

his neighbor in Roselle Park

in the 1940s –

the best bologna maker

at the pork store nearby

 

Eventually the neighbor

purchased some farmland

and moved to Penn's Grove

where he built a slaughterhouse

Leo spent time there

the summer between grammar

and high school

 

He had watched Mr. Sattel subdue

fat squealing hogs

and tenacious bulls

Saw him and his helpers

pull resisting livestock

by a rope fed through a nose ring

to another ring in the floor

where struggling animals

were systematically

slaughtered

one at a time

 

Mr. Sattel grew hardened

even provoked to anger

by the tugging and digging in of hooves

amid the ominous odor of blood

which roused the desperate instinct

against death –

 

The grueling labor of slaughter

left him no energy for grief

 

but his steel eyes glazed over

one muggy afternoon

when he told Leo,

 

"I did a lamb once.

 

It walked right alongside me

up the ramp.

 

I'll never

do it

again."

 

 

An edgy silence followed –

silent as paces of a lamb

 

 

There they sat, two white-haired friends

washed by the shed blood

of One Docile Lamb

Who walked Calvary's ramp

 

two thousand years ago

 

Maude Carolan

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

maudecpych@gmail.com

 

It's What Grandmas Do

 

My paternal grandmother,
Maude Lewis Walsh

      THE SCRAPBOOK GRANDMA MADE FOR ME

 

I picked up my grandchildren

at Saint Mary’s elementary school

They tossed their heavy backpacks

into the back of the car

got in and fastened their seatbelts

They know the routine—

don’t need to be reminded anymore

 

As we drove off

I could hear them in the back seat

talking about Lent and fasting

Dean and Alana gave up electronics

Their big brother Logan

now in high school

gave up chocolate

Dean asked, “Grandma

what did you give up?”

 

I told Dean I didn’t give up

anything this Lent, instead

I give Jesus a gift of new poems—

Some days I spend quiet time

writing poems that give glory to Him

and every day I post

a Lenten poem on my blog

Dean said, “Wow! That’s a lot

of poems, Grandma!”

 

I explained that it’s perfectly fine

to give up things for 40 days, but

sometimes people do other things

like donating to a charity

or visiting the sick

or baking cookies for an elderly neighbor

anything that draws them closer to God

 

Then I thought about my own grandmother—

She lived next door

when I was growing up

Grandma loved the Lord

and often talked to me about Him

She even made me a special scrapbook

with a cardboard cover

that she decorated with flowers

she carefully cut

from a Burpee seed catalog

The scrapbook contained pictures of children

kittens and puppies, and Howdy Doody

but more importantly, it contained

the 11 chapter story by Charles Dickens

that he wrote for his children in the 1840s

called, The Life of Our Lord

The story was published as a serial

in the Paterson Morning Call, in the 1950s

 

I still have that scrapbook

still appreciate that Grandma took the time

to make it just for me

 

It’s the kind of thing grandmas do—

Important things like that

 

Maude Carolan Pych

Here are a few photos from the scrapbook my grandmother made for me in the 1950s:

And here is a photo of my book of poems

about the Birth, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus:

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"
by Maude Carolan Pych
is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.net
maudecpych@gmail.com

The Binding of Isaac

A Poem for Lent...

 

LOVE AND THE AKEDAH

The Binding of Isaac – Genesis 22

 

Take your son

your only son

whom you love…

 

Twenty-two chapters into Scripture

and it's the first time love is mentioned

as God tells Abraham

 

Sacrifice Isaac

as a burnt offering

 

What swirls

through the mind

of this old patriarch

(who after a hundred years

fathers the son

of God's promise…

the son he loves

and proudly watches grow)

What swirls as he swings

the sharp axe, splitting wood

 

It was three days journey

from Beersheba to Moriah—

Leaving his servants behind

Abraham hands Isaac

the bundled wood

and carries fire and knife

up the mount

himself

 

Avi, (my father)

where is the lamb?

 

God will provide the lamb

my son

 

Abraham erects an altar of stone

arranges the wood and binds the lad

(whose faith and obedience

must be at least as great as his own)

 

Unflinching before the God

he has finally come to trust

the aged patriarch

(known to lie

to save his own skin

known to try to pull off

God's covenant himself

when it seemed God was slow

in keeping His promise)

this same patriarch…

raises the glinting blade

above his son, his only son

whom he loves…

 

Split-second

to knife-fall

the angel of the Lord calls out

 

Abraham! Abraham!

Do not lay a hand on the boy…

 

The old man

who has proven he would

withhold nothing from his God—

drops the bloodless blade

unbinds and embraces Isaac

 

and there, tangled

in a thicket, struggles

the substitute sacrifice

…a ram

 

Two millennia later

God's Son

His only Son

Whom He loves

carries wood

of a crossbeam

up the very same mountain

 

No angel of the Lord

arrives last moment

to halt the hammerfall

No ram appears

in a thicket

 

For God so loves

the world

He provides…

 

His Son

His only Son…The Sacrificial Lamb

 

Maude Carolan

Would you like to read more poems about Jesus?

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

By Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

maudecpych@gmail.com