Paul O'Brien

The Man on the Cross 

The man on the Cross 

 Looks down 

He seems to look at me 

 And past me 

He is a black man 

And he knows in his Soul 

That I failed him 

Yes I saw him  

On the Road 

And I did not reach out 

Was it fear? 

Was it prejudice? 

Was it my inability to see 

That the man with me 

On the road 

Was Christ, my brother 

He looked at me 

But I did not see. 

In the lateness of today 

I see. 

 Paul O’Brien A member of your retreat: February 27th

Brigid Sheehan

Once you see and understand the suffering and humanity of others, they can no longer be your enemies, they just can’t.

Donna Miller. 2.27.2021

Wood and Lilies 

Wipe this wood clean 

of the dull sheen of blood, salt, grief, bile. 

Relieve us. Show us something to make us smile, 

A version less villainous, 

Less traumatizing to our innocence. 

 Remove the evidence 

Of gasps, groans, and sighs of a holy Love, 

a Fool to be held up to ridicule. 

(Who would pray to such as this 

Who serves as prey to such as they?) 

Wood wiped clean, 

Place the lily, white with subtle fragrances, 

Reminiscent of heavenly angel’s melodic cadences, 

Not of their armies gathering round 

Anticipating the whispering reply of Divinity’s deafening sound. 

 Oh earth, oh sky, oh Mother suffering from seven swords! 

You bow, you blaze, you pray, you bleed 

While plodding and fearful, we must proceed to where the wood is, 

Strewing soft lilies on the land 

Before us, behind us, and where the dull sheened wood will always stand. 

 DM 02/27/2021

Kay Dolezal

To T. S. Eliot on reading Ash Wednesday 

Mr. Eliot, long-time semi-savior, 

 Your words come to my rescue. 

This time when you pray to 

The ‘blessed sister, holy mother’. 

Your cry is so simply put I feel 

I can join mine with yours, 

Praying for instruction on how 

To ‘sit still, at peace in His will’, 

 How to discern when ‘to care 

and not to care’ can be so hard for us. 

Easter then brings springtime, 

Rivers flow, blooms are everywhere. 

Among the mossy ‘rocks’ of daily life, 

 Mothered by Mary, I give thanks.

It turned out a poem came to me not from the images you provided, but from the T. S. Eliot verse. His work turned me on to poetry seventy years ago. So it felt right to meditate on this section of his poem, Ash Wednesday, and come up with one of my own.

Maire LIberace #4

BLACK CHRIST CRUCIFIED 

We have driven deep 

the nails 

that pin you to 

a tree once living, 

spat out the curses 

and the names 

that ripped your skin 

drawing out the streams 

of blood – 

so like mine, 

your eyes pierce into my deepest soul. 

And now stunned into 

Silence 

I see in your beaten body 

My craven self, 

am driven to 

 bind those wounds I

 have inflicted. 

I take the healing balm 

from the alabaster jar 

blend with my tears 

to wash your feet 

to sooth, to heal.

Maire Liberace #3

THE UPPER ROOM

Where all things ended
all things began
dark night awaits 

the promise of another night.
Footsteps move quick together 

united in an upper room 

life ending, life beginning 

ritual shared in breaking bread 

extends a new covenant 

darkest night becomes 

the promise of eternal dawn.

United in unknowing wonder 

still blind – and yet 

dim awareness draws each to each 

around the brightening light

Maire Liberace #2

OFFERING 

Trees, Rough hewn, 

Savaged from the land, 

Brown earth-bleeding scar 

Splintered, piercing deep. 

Life blood outpouring 

Slakes the thirsting soil 

Shadow spread wide 

Stretches down the centuries 

Offering pain – anihalation, 

Tearing apart the soul. 

Reach out your arms 

Embrace, become the body impaled 

Become love.

Maire Liberace #1

 PILATE’S COURTYARD 

The night closed in ominous dark f

illed with clamorous noise 

frenetic bustle 

in this crowded courtyard. 

They gather huddled round the fire 

Pulling the heat into their cloaks 

Eyeing with squinting suspicion 

Each newcomer. 

 “You were with him” “

No, I’m just a passing stranger 

needing warmth” 

“You speak like him-“ 

“No, not my voice and tone” 

“I saw you with him” “

No, you must be mistaken” 

he shouted rushing out the gate. 

 And then he wept.

Jesus used during our meditations

 

Andrea Storm

 

Ellen O'Shaughnessy

 

Online Morning of Prayer & Poetry for Lent

 

Join us for an Online Morning of Prayer & Poetry with John Predmore, SJ   Online Morning of Prayer: A Lenten Journey to the Cross through Prayerful Art   Rev. John Predmore, SJ Saturday February 27, 2021 9:30AM – 12:00NOON   $30.00 Campion Center Conference & Renewal invites you to join us as we pray with artistic exercises that can deepen our personal journey to the Cross with Jesus and his companions. We will visually express the contents of our prayer. No artistic ability is needed. We will do some simple exercises that will help you examine the world reflectively.  Register for this Morning of Prayer to online at: https://www.campioncenter.org/programs/lenten-day-of-prayer-a-journey-to-the-cross-through-prayerful-art

John Predmore, SJ is a priest of the East Jesuit Province whose studio is in Boston's South End SoWa District. He offers retreats, workshops, and academic courses on the integration of spirituality and art. He paints with oils, watercolors and is a photographer.

 

https://www.campioncenter.org/programs Programs - Campion Center

Song: Ubi Caritas

I sing tenor on this video of Ubi Caritas for Lent. Many thanks to Lynn Burns for producing and editing the video.

 

Paul O'Brien

 

Debbie O'Brien

 

Stephanie Crocetti

 

Gregory Connolly

 

Father Predmore asked for a drawing of a heart as this evening's exercise. My artistic skills are lacking but have taken up photography.  

Attached is a photo of an object in our universe taken by the Hubble Telescope of a heart like object probably existing shortly after the BIG Bang.  

Since we do not know what existed prior to the Big Bang, I believe faith and the courage of belief allows one to see the brilliance of God's love expanding from the image. Its presence appears to infuse the universe all of us within it, with God's love that transcends our sacred space and time. 

Mary Anne Ernst

 

Jean Mudge

 

Mary Beth O'Sullivan

 

Donna Miller

 

Ginny Enbody

 

Storm Barkus

 

Ellen O'Shaughnessy and Bob Padbert

 When Bob got his Ph.D. in psychology, we had a party with a saxophonist and band leading the celebration.  One of the songs we shared was:  “Red, Red Wine!”  We could hear it in our memories as we made these hearts with red wine.  It was fun and as you can see from the big one, challenging.   For the photo of our grandchildren a couple of years ago, Bob is the photographer.   The wrapper paper we used is not Amazon, but Apple as you can see resting on a red wine created heart.  Apple is so good to us it deserves the symbol. The two heart pins are done by an artist friend with my revisions.  

Donna Miller

 

Fr. Predmore's interview at his Studio

 Over the weekend, the studio artists at SoWa (South of Washington Street) got together to livestream “SoWa Live” for Super Bowl Sunday. We had a blast listening to each other’s stories. Here is the interview with me in Studio 230. It is five minutes long.

 

I hope you enjoy it.

https://www.facebook.com/187352151404440/videos/1575179122690883

Deborah Grondin

 

Mary Ann Ernst

 

Ginny Enbody