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I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. Jn 13:34

These words of Jesus to his disciples are from the Last Supper discourse (chapters 13 through 17) of John’s Gospel. Having just washed the feet of the disciples, Jesus teaches them one last time before he goes to be arrested, tortured, and executed. I urge all to read and reflect on the teaching that Jesus presents in these chapters. Jesus doesn’t instruct his disciples to revenge his death. He orders them to love. If they love him, they MUST love one another as he has loved them.

Jesus commandment to love one another is not just isolated to John’s Gospel. Paul writes in his 1^st letter to the Corinthians (chapter 13) that we can be the most gifted of speakers; we can prophesy and possess the knowledge of the universe; we can have faith that will move mountains, but, if we do not have love, we are worthless. In his 1^st letter, John writes that we must love not just in word but in action. “Beloved, if God so loved us (that he sent us his Son), we also must love one another.”

Our lives have only one purpose, to love as Jesus loved. Our home and family, our community, our places of work are nothing more than one grand classroom in which we learn to love. This assignment is not for sissies or the weak. For Jesus calls us to love not only when it’s easy and convenient, but to love when it is hard to love. We must love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.

Even though we will never love as perfectly as Jesus loved; even though we may fail to love time and time again, we must continue to persevere and never quit practicing how to love. Every morning offers us another opportunity to love as Jesus loved.

Fr Richard Rohr states that Christianity must be more than just another organized religion. IT MUST BE A WAY OF LIFE. In a world filled with such great suffering there is no place for those who say they believe in Jesus as their own personal savior but are warlike, greedy, racist, selfish and vain. We will only be known as Christians in the way we love.

In the Spring of 2011, it was time to get my left hip replaced. Genetics (I was told by an Irish Aunt that I inherited the Swedish genes for bad joints), along with a horrific head-on collision in 2002 greatly accelerated the replacement of that hip. In April of 2011, I had to have the femur nail removed from my left hip (a souvenir of the car accident). That was a complicated recovery. Finally, in mid June of 2011 I had the hip replaced only to find within a week I had a MRSA infection. Long story short, the infection never went away and in the beginning of August I had to have the artificial hip removed. Since, I was allergic to the majority of antibiotics that kill MRSA (Vankamycin shut down my kidneys), it took the contagious disease doctor a while to find a combination of antibiotics that would kill the MRSA infection. In the meantime, I would have to go in for more surgery to drain the infection, a total of 4 surgeries on the same spot. Since I had no hip during this time, with the aid of a walker, I hopped around the house, from bed to bathroom, bathroom to my chair, chair to bathroom, and so on. I was without a hip from the beginning of August to the end of January 2012, when I received the second hip.

It was Christmas 2012, I was on medical leave from church ministry, and I didn’t know what I could give my beloved Ruth for a Christmas present. I ended up doing two things: 1) shaved my mustache (she always hated that mustache), and 2) I began writing poems about our courtship, our wedding, and the family we created together. I called that first installment of poems, “The Book Of Ruth”. I combined those early poems with some photos of Ruth and I and our kids, made a PDF of it and sent it to my daughter-in-law, Olivia to print and put into a binder to give to Ruth for Christmas. Since that Christmas in 2011, I have continued to compose poems for Ruthie and add them to the collection.

Two of the poems I have placed here cover the early part of our marriage. The first is about the time in which my teaching position had been cut, and we were homeless with a 1 1/2 year old son, and a newly born son. The second about how we coped with little money, and still managed to court one another. The third from a more recent time. Ruthie is an RN and has worked the night shift as a nurse from the time our fourth child was born. That way she could be home with the kids during the day, and I would be home with the kids throughout the night and get them off to school. Many times, as she would be walking in the door, I would be going off to work. And, when I would be coming home at night after a 12 hour day (church work goes from morning to evening), she would be leaving to go to work.

AT HOME WITHOUT A HOME

The semi-trailer sits at the farm,
a gift from your dad,
holding everything we own,
except some of our clothes,
and that of our sons,
and Pampers.
Homeless, my pride beaten down,
humility or is it humiliation, it’s master.
Your pride is not a self-consuming
passion, the first of an
ever-growing realization
that I’m not the educator of our family
but a merely a student
learning at your feet.
Your pride is measured
in our sons, in our marriage,
our homelessness not a
defeat, but a mere fact.
Your own family’s past,
family falling upon family
during times of difficulty and duress,
defines what is important.
Shuffling between families’ homes
an inconvenience of love,
not acts of desperation.
As long as we and our sons are together
no longer is home narrowly defined
to structures above or below ground,
but only defined by relationship.
You are at home in our homelessness.

(c) 2012, “The Book Of Ruth”, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

THE COURTING NEVER ENDS

Two weeks before
we share our vows,
in my Miller Hospital
x-ray scrubs, I sit,
a lull in the activity
of the morning exams
with Helen, a fellow
wheel chair jockey.
Closely she examines me,
“Do you want to have
a happy marriage?” I
nod in affirmation.
“Do you know the secret?”
“No,” slips quietly from
my lips, “Do you want
to know?” “Yes, of
course.” Her eyes
flash behind her
glasses, accentuating
her words, “The courting
never ends. The
courting never ends.”

She reads the puzzlement
that paints my face,
with exclamation points
behind each word
she emphasizes, “You
must never stop
dating your wife.”
Stories of Friday night
steak dinners, with
her deceased lover
of many years,
during a shared
lifetime peppered
with want and plenty.
Her words repeated
until locked in my
subconscious, our
brief, intense encounter
interrupted by the
needs of another
hospital patient.

I sit here with you
on our date night,
our baby in a high
chair, our two
very young sons
at their places
around the small
rectangular table
in our kitchen.
Two Dairy Bar pizzas,
a pepperoni for the
boys, the supreme
for you and me,
Gerbers for the baby,
a poor substitute
for steak on a
Friday night, but
one meal you will
not cook, just enjoy.
Date night
is not what it
once was, but
our love requires
some small gesture,
even in poverty,
of just being with
each other, two
lovers with the
evidence of their
love around them,
enjoying a piece
of locally made
pizza, with the words
of an old German
x-ray aide echoing
from long before,
“The courting never
ends. The courting
never ends.”

(c) 2015,”The Book Of Ruth”, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

AT 2 AM – A POEM FOR RUTH

Quietly
you enter,
and with feline
stealth, pick your
way through the
darkness of
our bedroom.
My senses,
honed
over the years
like radar to
hear the pings
of children’s cries,
pukey wretching,
and troubled
hearts and spirits
detects you
as you silently
remove your clothing,
the wisp of your
nightgown falls
with a slight breeze
over your
outstretched arms,
you slip within the
sheets. “Are you
sick?” I quietly
ask, as I turn
my warm body
to embrace the
coolness of yours.
“They were overstaffed,”
you softly reply,
and I slip contentedly
back to sleep,
our marriage bed
complete.

(c) 2015, “The Book Of Ruth”, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

Last but not least, I have composed much music dedicated to this incredible woman. For our wedding, I composed a song. Over the years, the song got lost, but I remembered the melody vividly. In the Spring of 2016 as the anniversary of our first date drew near (May 29th), I reset that melody into a new piano composition and then gave it to Ruth. I would like to say that she remembered that song from our wedding. However, many years had passed since our wedding, a little over 41 years at that time, and it sounded brand new to her. Granted, I did add a middle section to the song that wasn’t there in the original.

The primary melody retains the great passion I feel toward Ruth. It starts simply in the lower register like one lover expressing his love to his intended. It is restated in the higher register, his lover reciprocating his affection than moves to a middle section where the couples love for each grows until the primary melody returns in chordal octaves, a passionate expression of love consummated, then peace as the lovers begin life together.

The middle section is the dance of the couple as they work, have children, raise their children, and the demands of life attempts to pull them in all directions. However, in the midst of the hustle and bustle of that dance, the love and the passion the couple have for one another does not fade as the primary melody is joined into the dance.

The song concludes to a simple restatement of the love that began many years before, intact, and filled with nothing but gratitude of a life together. Here is the song.

The fourth Sunday of Easter is usually designated “Good Shepherd” Sunday. Over the three year cycle of readings during Easter, we often hear Jesus speak about his role as the Good Shepherd of humanity. He is the one who will leave his flock to go look for the lost sheep. He is the one ready to lay down his life for his sheep. He identifies those qualities that make a good shepherd and warns us not to follow those shepherds who would abandon their sheep to the wolves.

Universally for Christians, Jesus is the Shepherd of all humanity. Roman Catholic Christians will assign the Pope the role of Shepherd of the Church. Cross denominationally, most Christians will see the pastors of their parishes as their shepherds. It is a mistake to isolate only the ordained as being shepherds. Historically in the Christian Church, and recently within our own Archdiocese, there are some we assumed to be our Good Shepherds who have been revealed instead to be wolves dressed in shepherd’s clothing.

Baptized into Christ, we were intimately joined to Jesus, the Good Shepherd. The DNA of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is a major part of our own DNA. St Paul writes that when we put on Christ at our baptism, our bodies were absorbed within the Body of Jesus. Our bodies are His Body. It is the breath of Jesus we breath. His blood flows within our veins. As the living and breathing Body of Christ on this earth, we are all called to be Good Shepherds to one another. As Good Shepherds, we are to love, to support, to guide, to protect, and to provide for the needs of all humanity, who are the flock of Jesus.

Under this umbrella of Jesus the Good Shepherd, parents, be Good Shepherds to your children. Children, be Good Shepherds to your parents, and, brothers and sisters. Within our parish, priests, deacons, parish staff be Good Shepherds to your parishioners. Parishioners, be Good Shepherds to your priests, deacons and parish staff. Within our community, neighbors, be Good Shepherds to those in your neighborhood. For our mayor, and all occupying responsibilities within our city (council members, employees, police, firefighters, EMTs) be Good Shepherds to those you are called to serve. Citizens be Good Shepherds and fulfill your civic responsibilities to those who serve you. This is what we do as Good Shepherds.

Over the past two weeks, we have had 2 more shootings of students at American schools, one at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte, and another at Stem Schools in Colorado. Just prior to that gun violence, a Jewish synagogue was attacked by another gunman. In all three attacks, 3 people died by throwing themselves in the line of gunfire to save the lives of those around around them. The time for strict licensing for gun ownership and gun control is now, before many other innocents get massacred.

A threnody is a song of lament. I began composing the music heard here on February 15, 2018, the day after the horrific slaughter of students at the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. It is meant to be a prayer of lamentation for the many men, women, and children who have been massacred by assault weapons in the United States. The little to no response from the manufacturers of those weapons or the NRA other than to arm more people with the same weapons, in my opinion, make these groups complicit in the murders of these innocent people.

This scriptural passage from the Book of Wisdom is what I used as an inspiration for the music I composed here.

But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,
and no torment will ever touch them.
In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died
and their departure was thought to be a disaster,
and their going from us to be their destruction;
 but they are at peace.
For though in the sight of others they were punished,
their hope is full of immortality.
Having been disciplined a little,
they will receive great good,
because God tested them and found them worthy of himself;
like gold in the furnace he tried them,
and like a sacrificial burnt offering he accepted them.
In the time of their visitation they will shine forth,
and will run like sparks through the stubble.
They will govern nations and rule over peoples,
and the Lord will reign over them forever.
Those who trust in him will understand truth
and the faithful will abide with him in love,
because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones,
and he watches over his elect. (Wisdom 3)

Four images were prominent in my mind as I composed this music and reflected in the four sections of this song.

The first image is that of the many feet walking in cemeteries, over these many years of gun violence, to bring their dead loved ones to be buried. The countless children from the wee ones to college students, girlfriends and boyfriends, fiancés, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, mothers, fathers indiscriminately slaughtered at school, universities, movie theaters, shopping malls, places of businesses, even Fort Hood.

The second image is that of the relentless chaos of the shooting. People scattering everywhere to escape the hail of bullets, bodies slaughtered left and right by the gunfire. The look of disbelief and horror on the faces of the dead, the dying, and the wounded as they lie where they have been slaughtered.

The third image is that of the victims’ loved ones visiting the graves of those they lost. The utter senselessness of their deaths. The cutting off of their lives before they could even begin to live.

The fourth image is that of the heavenly peace of the victims, held in the loving arms of the God who created them.

The form of the song is ABAC.

Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger,
you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted;
but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands,
and someone else will dress you
and lead you where you do not want to go.”
He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God.
And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me.” (John 21:18-19)

These words of Jesus to Peter in the Gospel this weekend spoke volumes to me as I reflected on my 42 years of church ministry. In many ways, doing church ministry often required me to go where I never intended on going, and doing ministry I never thought I would ever do. I expressed this in the following bulletin article announcing my retirement from active ministry on June 30^th this year.

“On August 31, 1977, I began ministry in the Archdiocese of St Paul and Minneapolis at St Wenceslaus. Mondays through Fridays I taught K-8 music, and Saturdays and Sundays I led the music for all the liturgies. God moves in mysterious ways, and he took me with him on the journey. As I reflected over these 42 years, much has happened in my life. I graduated with a Masters Degree in Pastoral Studies (St Paul Seminary, 1989). I was ordained a permanent deacon (September, 1994). I studied and became a certified spiritual director (2005), did Spanish immersion (summer, 2006). I have served in small town/rural churches, large suburban parishes, and urban parishes. I was assigned the parish life administrator in an inner city pastor-less parish in South Minneapolis. I have baptized many babies, witnessed many marriages, and have done many funerals and burials in both English and Spanish. I have ministered to many in prison, ate with and provided assistance and spiritual support to the homeless, to families of the gay community, to many Mexican and Ecuadorian families, to former felons, to families who have experienced divorce and suicide, and to women and children who have been physically, sexually and emotionally abused, and, they, in turn, have ministered to me. I have been the liturgist and liturgical musician for major bishops’ meetings and regional and national conferences, and formed a wonderful friendship with a future saint, Sr Theo Bowman (presently in the process of canonization). I have served on Archdiocesan commissions and led the Archdiocesan Deacon Council. God has a way of leading us to places we would otherwise not go and doing things we would otherwise not do. Little did I know in 1977, the adventures, the joys, the wonders, the sorrows, the frustrations, the disappointments, and the tragedies I would experience in ministry. Now, after much soul searching and consultation with my family, my spiritual director, and our pastor, Fr Kevin, I made the hard decision to retire this past Holy Thursday. At the 7pm celebration of the Lord’s Passion at St Wenceslaus, all the experiences, feelings, and burdens of church ministry of the past 42 years I laid at the foot of the cross of Jesus as I venerated the cross. On his 60th birthday, Fr Henri Nouwen observed that the number of years he had left to live were far fewer than the years he had lived. A new chapter in my life will begin on July 1, 2019 in which I will come to know what other surprises God has planned for me.”

A life of following Jesus is one of surrendering yourself to God. I remember my dad asking me after the first 4 years of church ministry, “When are you going to get yourself a real job?” It was not a criticism on the part of my dad. He was worried that Ruth, our two kids and I were living below the poverty line, requiring us to sell our jewelry and get food stamps to get by week to week. Churches are notorious for not paying a living wage. When our fourth child was born, Ruth had to go back to work as nurse in order for us to make ends meet. Even when things were economically bleak, we trusted in God to help us get by, to find me scholarships to pay for graduate school, to provide me a car when the old beaters I drove died on bitterly cold Minnesotan nights in winter.

At one time or another in our lives, we will be required to be like Peter and the other disciples and let God lead us where we are needed the most. And, so,  as I enter into retirement I think of Jesus’ last words in the Passion of Luke, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” This is more than just a sentiment for those of us who are Christian, it is a way of life.

The overriding focus of this 2^nd Sunday of Easter is peace. The depth and completeness of the peace that are described in the scriptures for this weekend is far more than the laudable but superficial notion of peace we often hear in song and read in literature, e.g. John Lennon’s “All I am saying is give peace a chance,” or “Merry XMas (The War is Over).”

In the acts of the Apostles, many people experiencing conflict within their lives seek out the Apostles not only to be cured of what is afflicting them, but, moreover, to experience “complete” wholeness and peace that only Jesus can bestow.

The author of Revelations is exiled to the Isle of Patmos amidst the violence and persecution of the Christian community. Not only have Jewish Christians been expelled from the synagogues, but the Roman Empire is seeking out the Christians and murdering them in vast numbers. With violence and conflict all about him, the author seeks and finds peace.

In John’s gospel, the disciples of Jesus are horrified about what has happened to Jesus and fear that they will be next to die. They lock themselves behind locked doors and refuse to venture beyond those doors. What are the very first words with which Jesus greets them? It is “Peace be with you.” His very words erases the fear that paralyzes them and replaces it with a deepfelt peace.

Thomas, perhaps the only one of them who has any courage left, is not with the disciples when Jesus appears to them. Not knowing the peace the others have felt, he is left conflicted. One week later, Jesus reappears in their midst and once more greets them with “Peace Be With You.” Thomas then experience the peace of the glorified Jesus and believes. Jesus gently admonishes him and then tells him that more blessed than Thomas are those who have not seen yet still believe.

This is more than just a reference to physically seeing the risen Jesus. It is more a reference in believing the peace that the risen Jesus can give to us. It is the peace, that the people of Jerusalem find in believing in the message the apostles are teaching in the streets of Jerusalem. It is the peace that the author of Revelations finds amidst the violence and persecution of the Christian community by the Romans and others. It is the peace given to the disciples who cower in fear in the upper room.

We all know people who have found the peace that Jesus bestows. I have encountered quite a few in my 42 years of ministry. They have this air of peace and calm, even when all hell is breaking lose around them. They can be given news that would cause others to despair, yet, even the worse news does not shake the peace and calm that inhabits them. It is not that they are oblivious or ignore what has been told them, but, somehow, it is absorbed into the peace that fills their lives.

After 42 years of ministry and theology, it is easy for others to assume that I possess this unfailing belief in Jesus’ peace. Alas, I am still working on it. As I much as I would like to say I have got it, I, like Thomas still need the reassurance of placing my fingers into the holes in Jesus’ hands, and my hand into Jesus’ side. Perhaps, one day, I, too, will no longer need to see and finally believe.

My grandchildren’s birthdays are scattered over this time of the year, with three of them being born in February (apparently June is a popular time to conceive children), one born in March, and the other born in May.In November of 2017, I decided to compose some music for them as a Christmas present. Unlike what I have done prior to this, I dedicate all the songs to all my grandchildren but one, the sixth song. The sixth song is dedicated to the grandchild I never knew, who died as a result of a miscarriage.

Psalm Offering 1:  Simple Dance

My grandson, Owen, approached me in 2016 about giving him piano lessons. I was both surprised and honored at his request. Shortly after Owen started lessons, I asked his brother, Aidan, whether he wanted piano lessons and he answered yes. As their skills at the piano increased, I began to think of composing some easy melodies for them to play. This is the first and the most rudimentary of the 6 piano compositions. For those of us who remember beginning band, this would be the “Hot Cross Buns” piece of the 6. This both Owen and Aidan can play with ease. It is in simple 3 part A-B-A form.

Offering 2: Rondeau

This is a little more complicated, but still fairly simple to play. The boys by this time have gotten comfortable playing major scales, so the melody includes up and down scale passages. The song uses the Alberti Bass in the left hand accompaniment. The Alberti Bass is a left hand accompaniment pattern used frequently by the Classical period composers, e.g. Mozart and Haydn, is very repetitive and played with ease. The normal three notes of a chord (technically a “triad”) are not played as a blocked chord, but as a broken chord. There is a see saw motion in the wrist where the bottom note of the chord is played alternately with the upper two notes of the chord. The song is written in Rondo form: melody 1, melody 2, melody 1, melody 3, melody 1.

Psalm Offering 3: Celtic Dance

This is where the Psalm Offerings begin to be more challenging to play. The first challenge is the changing meter from 6/8 meter to 3/4 meter, back to 6/8 meter. The second challenge is the subdivision of beats in the 6/8 meter. The song begins in a fast 6/8 time with measures alternating between a measure of 6/8 with the 1^st and 4^th beats accented, followed by a measure with the 1^st, 3^rd, and 5^th beats accented, e.g. 123456/123456 This segues into a middle section of slower 3/4 time. Grace notes are introduced in the melody of this middle section. A grace note is a very quick note that adds decoration or an embellishment to the melody. It almost sounds like “pah-DUM” with the grace note on the “pah”. The middle section sounds a wee bit Scottish, the left hand playing a kind of drone that one might hear in bagpipe music. Melody 1 returns in the faster 6/8 time.

Psalm Offering 4:  Nocturne

This song is in 5/4 time. Of all the 6 songs, this is the most challenging in terms of piano technique and rhythm. It is definitely way beyond the playing skills of my grandsons (At a certain point, grandpa found it difficult to keep his music at the playing levels of his grandsons.) It is meant to be a Nocturne. Simply, a nocturne is “night” music,  meant to evoke peace and tranquility in the listener.

There is a harmonic ostinato pattern (a repeated pattern of rhythm and harmony) in the left hand. The right hand plays variations of the melody above that ostinato pattern. It is written in Rondo form, melody 1, melody 2, melody 1, melody 3, melody 1, Coda (ending).

Psalm Offering 5: Mazurka in 5/4 time.

This is a Mazurka (a Polish dance). Frederick Chopin was the master composer of Mazurkas. Unlike most Mazurkas written in 3/4 meter, three beats to a measure with the quarter note getting one beat. This is composed in 5/4 meter, five beats to a measure with the quarter note getting one beat. The uneven meter of 5/4 time is a hard meter in which to dance. It would be akin to dancing with an extra leg. All that being said, this piano piece retains the vigorous exuberance of more classical Mazurkas.

Psalm Offering 6:  Lullaby for a Still Born Baby

Unlike the previous 5 Psalm Offerings of this Opus, this is specifically dedicated to “Baby Wagner”. Between the births of Aidan and Ollie, my daughter-in-law, Oliva, was pregnant with another child. Sadly, that pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. This Psalm Offering is dedicated to that beautiful baby I never got the opportunity to know. I found myself overwhelmed emotionally as I composed this Psalm Offering. I believe I finally allowed myself to grieve the death of this lovely unborn child I never got to know. I like to think of this song as a lullaby to my unborn grandchild. When Ruthie first heard it, she found it emotionally moving. She said it was so beautiful, yet, it was also sad. I must confess that when I finished the composition of this piece, I wept. The music is composed in 3/4 meter. Similar to the 4^th Psalm Offering there is a recurring  harmonic and rhythmic ostinato pattern in the left hand throughout the entire piece. It is composed in Rondo form: melody 1, melody2, melody 1, melody3, melody1, Coda.

Of course, there are not enough pages to display ALL the pictures of our grandchildren. While pictures have a way of freezing an images in time, alas, grandchildren continue to grow and mature. Alyssa and Owen are now 16 years old and will be juniors in high school. Aidan is 13 years old and will begin his freshman year in high school. Sydney is 13 years old and will be in 8^th grade. And, Ollie, is 8 years old and will begin 3^rd grade this year.

Throughout the Paschal Season of Lent and Easter, we are reminded that our lives are joined to the Paschal Mystery of Jesus. Our baptism intimately links his passion, death, and resurrection to our lives. The entirety of our lives are a series of Paschal Mysteries.  Our struggles, our sufferings, our hardships take on a whole new meaning as they are linked to Jesus’ Paschal Mystery.  The story of Jesus in Holy Week reminds us that the only way to the Resurrection is through suffering and death.

On Easter Sunday, when the resurrected Jesus emerged from the tomb, he emerged  transformed into something new. His glorified body was no longer subject to hunger, pain and climate. He is able to transcend the chronology of human time (e.g. hours, days, months, years) into the metaphysical time of eternity. Just as the resurrected Jesus emerged from the tomb utterly changed, so, too, Easter teaches us that having passed through our own series of passions and deaths, and resurrections, we, too will be utterly transformed.

The hardships of our lives transform us as we learn something new from them, and find ourselves  changed and even more resilient because of them. Even as we find ourselves increasingly impaired in doing tasks that once had been so easy to do, we, nonetheless,  continue to grow in remarkable ways.  In his second letter to the Corinthians, St Paul writes “So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure,  because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” (2 Cor 4:16-18, NRSV) St Paul reminds us that as our physical activity becomes extremely limited, we continue to be transformed. It is at the moment of our death in which we will find our greatest transformation taking place.

Two  questions to ask ourselves during this Octave of Easter are, “In what way(s) has the Paschal Mystery(ies) of my own life transformed me this Easter?” “How has my life been utterly changed?”

This song is Psalm Offering 9 Opus 7, from the collection of songs I call the Lamentation Psalm Offerings. This song concludes the collection. It is for the conversion of human hearts to God’s love and justice. Fitting for the feast of the Resurrection. Here are the scripture passages that were the inspiration for the music.

But you, O Lord, reign forever; your throne endures to all generations. Why have you forgotten us completely? Why have you forsaken us these many days? Restore us to yourself, O Lord, that we may be restored; renew our days as of old. (Lamentations: 5: 19-21)

I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you, and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances. (Ezechial 36: 25-27)

“Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. (1 John 3: 23-24)

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15: 12)

I wrote this commentary at the time I composed the song.

Conversion is central to human life, human hearts and human society if we are to reshape ourselves to live the justice of God. The duality of light and darkness in John’s Gospel is revealed all around us. So many people dwell and operate out of the darkness of our world, in which the highest principle is best summed in the question, “What’s in it for me?” We see it in our government, in our political parties, in business, and in all strata of human life. One could be overwhelmed by the hopelessness of such a suppression of light. Yet, like fireflies on a darkened night, there are many whose light illuminates the deep darkness of the world. Their light is fueled by the Great Commandment of Jesus to love as he loved. The light of God shines in these people, and as we encounter them in their daily lives, the light of God becomes contagious as all begin to desire the peace, the serenity, and joy that fills the lives of these people. And, so this musical prayer is exuberant, joy-filled, and filled with light. May we all join in on this dance of life, this dance of light, this dance of God’s justice!

Madeline L’Engle is a woman whose poetry is so striking. I present a few of her poems upon which to reflect this Easter. (All poems from The Ordering of Love: The New And Collected Poems of Madeline L’Engle, L’Engle, Madeleine. (Kindle Locations 1957-1964). The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

ANDREW: HAVING RUN AWAY FROM JESUS IN THE GARDEN

Who is this stranger whom I hardly know,
(despite his presence within me) who cannot
be kept decently silent and unseen
(Lord, I still feel my muscles, tight from running),
with whom I must be reconciled
before I can sleep? This unwelcome
intruder who is my self must be forgiven and accepted
and somehow loved. You have forgiven me,
with your unexpected presence among us.
But even in my joy I know I betrayed you
and must forever know that this coward, too,
is as much me as the loyal disciple I thought to be.
This stranger who is most of me is still
my Lord’s failed friend, but friend nevertheless,
and in this friend I now must find, before I sleep, His image, and His love.

MARY OF MAGDALA
How do I find You, who have been blinded by the brilliance of your Father?
The darkness is heavy in tangible weight.
Am I afraid of light? Would I rather
remain in the shadows, afraid of the brightness of your face?
Why must I stay here where the black clouds gather,
trying to slow the hours in this dim place,
to halt times vast, inexorable race.
How do I find You? Through what graces?
Why am I frightened by the height of this wild, windy day
I who have always passionately loved light?
Why do I see you in the darkest places,
touch your garment only when I turn away?
Or see your radiance when ugliness and grief
seem to leave no room for you to stay?
I see you in distorted, hungry faces.
In crusts and filthy gutters is belief
in your love breaking all hate.
You have left your traces
on this demoniacs freed face and joy-streaked cheek.
I find you, Lord, when I no longer clutch.
I find you when I learn to let you go,
and then you reach out with your healing touch.
Seven demons left my tortured mind!
My Lord, so stern, so infinitely kind,
I know myself at last because you know.

MARY: AFTERWARDS

John. John, can you not take me to him,
you who were more than friend,
who are now my son?
After all we have known and borne together
can you deny to me now that you’ve surely seen him?
Can you conceal his whereabouts from his mother?
I ran to the place where the other Marys knew him;
I saw the empty tomb, the enormous stone
rolled from its mouth, the grave clothes lying.
I called, I cried, with no one there to hear me.
Joy and grief raged in my longing heart.
He was not there, nor even the flaming angel.
I was the last to be told.
Why were you all afraid to say what I most wanted to hear?
I know: the Magdalen said that she couldn’t touch him,
that she knew him only because he called her: Mary!
On the Emmaus road they didn’t know they’d been walking
beside him until he was known in the breaking of bread.
John, do you fear that perhaps I wouldn’t know him?
Perhaps it would give me pain to find my son
so changed from the son I knew, the son I circled
first with my body, last with my anguished arms.
John: I can bear to know that I may not hold him.
The angel who came to me once will help me now.
I don’t need to touch him. Just let me see him…
Don’t be impatient: “Mother, you don’t understand!”
I’ve never pretended, my dear, to understand him.
Only to love him, to be there if ever he needed
to know I was by him, waiting and loving
— Oh, John. Yes. I see. That’s how it will be, then?
You don’t know where he is?
You’re alone, and then he’s with you, but it’s different now.
He comes, and he’s gone, and you know him
only by what he says or what he does,
by his hands and feet, or in the breaking of bread.
The angel told me before his birth, and Simeon
after, and I haven’t ever asked more—or less.
If my joy in him must rest only in your witness
that he is risen, that he is risen indeed,
then he has given you to me to help me bear it.
We have shared the cup, and the dark of night is done.
I will know my son through you he has given me for my son.