Happy Resurrection Day!

 A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day

Happy Resurrection Day!

I am featuring two poems today...

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

HE IS NOT HERE

Israel Pilgrimage--2006

 

Some believe

the Body of Messiah was placed

in the highly venerated

tomb located in the Church

of the Holy Sepulcher

 

Some believe

He was buried

in a pastoral place

known as the Garden Tomb

 

The important thing is—

He died. He rose.

He’ll come again.

 

The important thing is

as a placard proclaims

at the entrance

to the Garden Tomb:

 

He is not here—

For He is risen

 

and the important thing is

our sins are atoned—

 

We live because He lives

 

so, let’s celebrate

that He was here—

but is not!

 

Hallelujah!

 

Praise be to Jesus, Our Risen Savior!

 

Maude Carolan Pych

www.maudecarolanpych.net

"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

More Poems?

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

"The Pieta"

 A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: excerptsofinri.com

It's Good Friday...

Following this printed poem

there is a YouTube video of me reading it.

Just scroll down to the end. 

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

YouTube video of Maude reading

"The Pieta."

"The Place of the Skull"

 A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day

"Golgotha" - The Place of the Skull

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

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

"Remembering Good Fridays"

 A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: bible.knowing-Jesus.com

REMEMBERING GOOD FRIDAYS

 

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

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 70’s 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

"Jesus, at Gethsemane"

A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: dreamstime.com

Here is a poem I wrote during Lent 2024...

JESUS AT GETHSEMANE—

THE OLIVE PRESS

 

I’m thinking about Jesus

and the agony He endured

in the Garden of Gethsemane

following the Passover meal

the evening He was apprehended, bound

and brought before Caiaphas, the high priest

 

Peter, James and John were with Him

He asked them to watch and pray

for His anguish was exceedingly great

 

Gethsemane means olive press—

and I imagine His torment

felt as if He Himself were in that very press

being crushed and squeezed nearly to death

 

From the depth of His soul

Jesus fell on His face and cried out

 

Abba, My Father

if it is possible

let this cup pass from Me

yet not as I will, but as You will

 

Sweat and drops of blood

ran in a stream down His flesh

and dripped upon the ground—

draining Him of strength

 

Jesus pulled himself up

and approached His disciples

but they couldn’t keep their eyes open

and had fallen asleep

He asked them again to watch and pray

that they not be tempted

then returned to the place

where He had been

to continue praying fervently

 

Perhaps Our Lord’s greatest agony

occurred then and there in the garden—

greater even than the excruciating pain

of the Crucifixion

as the staggering weight

of atoning for the sin of all the world

bore down heavily upon Him

unrelentingly, like pressure

upon olives in a press

 

In Our Lord’s unimaginable distress

an angel from Heaven

came to minister to Him

 

Jesus went again to seek His disciples, but

found them sleeping, as before

Alas, He knew their spirits were willing

but their flesh was weak

 

Suddenly there was a commotion

as a noisy crowd led by Judas Iscariot

approached, carrying lanterns

swords and clubs

 

Judas called out

 

Whomever I kiss, He is the one—

Seize him!

 

With that, the betrayer stepped forward

and gave Our Lord

a kiss

 

Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net

 

"Love and the Akedah"

 A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: abelssacimpactoevangelistico.net

LOVE AND THE AKEDAH[1]

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

---

[1] Akedah is the Hebrew word for binding.

"Between the Palms and the Cross"

A-Poem-a-Day Until Resurrection Day

 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

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, CBD, etc.

www.maudecarolanpych.net