Monday, March 29, 2010

Behold The Bridegroom

Yesterday we grasped branches of palms and pussy willows in our hands; we processed in the neighborhood surrounding our parish singing and stopping traffic, a cross leading the way; we rejoiced as we celebrated Christ's triumphal entrance into Jerusalem over two thousand years ago.

Today we have hung our palms over the images of our church family, the saints, and our exuberance shifts into solemnity as we begin to focus on the arrival of Christ the Bridegroom. Much will occur this holy week as we follow Christ to a place we would perhaps rather not go: Betrayal by an intimate friend; humiliation; cruelty beyond comprehension; pain, oh so much pain; and ultimately death as He who suspended the land upon the waters is suspended on a cross. By Holy Saturday, as Christ lies dead in His grave and the hymnography of the Church commands "all mortal flesh to keep silent," chronological time will have been intersected by kairos; it will be time for God to act. And indeed even now we begin to anticipate an act so cataclysmic that the entire order of the universe will be shocked and disturbed beyond recognition; wrong will be made right; Hades will be overthrown and Death abolished; Christ will be victor and not one dead will remain in the tomb. But I get ahead of myself for before the resurrection, there must be death.

And so today, I will repent anew of my utter inability to quiet my mind and heart from those stupid, illusory thoughts and idle distractions which plague my soul. I will pray for the strength and courage to mortify my passions which keep me from Christ. I will vow to stand vigilant so that I will not suffer the same fate as the foolish virgins whose lamps were deplete of oil when the Bridegroom arrived. With God's help, I will do violence to all my demons so that I may finish well and enter into the joy of that blessed and mysterious eighth day known as Pashca.

A blessed and fruitful holy week to you all.

Links to an explanation of the various Orthodox Holy Week services:

Bridgegroom Matins
Holy Wednesday (Sacrament of Unction)
Holy Thursday
Holy Friday
Holy Saturday
Pascha

Saturday, March 27, 2010

A Grand Day Out

All week long I have been promising the boys that today, Lazarus Saturday, we would make a trip to Lagomarcino's candy shop and make our purchases for the family Pascha (Easter) basket. And really, Lagomarcino's is every child's dream fulfilled. Not quite Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, but almost.

Choosing between the sour sugar coated chewy candy and a mixed bag of goodies was a difficult one for sweet Thomas; and as he deliberated over exactly which delicious morsels he wanted, Elliot charmed the other patrons (and the owner) with his antics. Yes, for those of you familiar with our children's tendencies to transform themselves into a variety of characters, "Marlon Brando" did indeed make an appearance, as did "Little Old Man." (I promise there were absolutely no cues from his parents.)

No Pascha basket would be complete without some meat and cheese, so after leaving with some chocolate kindly and freely given to our boys, we headed to the best farmer's market ever and loaded up on a host of items: bacon, sausage, roast, chicken, ham hocks, and some locally produced cheese (did you know cheddar cheese isn't supposed to be yellow?)

Now for one additional cup of coffee and the day will be absolutely perfect!

PS If you want to read some beautiful thoughts from my beautiful friend Molly about Lazarus Saturday, you can click here.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Annunciation

We are all conceived as orphans. It is only when a parent says, “Yes, I will raise this child,” that each of us are adopted. Most of us are adopted by our biological parents; others find homes with aunts and uncles and grandparents and neighbors and sometimes even with strangers from half a world away; some find parents much later in life; too many never find homes at all.

Today, nine months before we will celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, we commemorate this moment of adoption. For on the Feast of Annunciation we remember the moment when Mary agreed to bearing and raising her unexpected child. Her response to the announcement was, “Let it be unto me as you have said” and in that moment the maiden's womb became more spacious than the heavens for it contained the uncontainable; in that moment the creator of the universe became a child of humanity.

So, how appropriate is it that just two days ago the Johnson family had its own little “annunciation?” Instead of the Archangel Gabriel, it was our social worker Lisa (an angel in her own right) who called me at work. And when she asked if Beth and I were ready to receive a referral, my much less eloquent answer was, “Yes. Yes. Absolutely. Yes.”

Our daughter is a beautiful, healthy baby girl who was born just six months ago in Ethiopia. Her birth name and photos must remain private until the adoption is completed, however we have given her the name Lucia and will use that name here. We expect Lucia to be home with us before her first birthday. (Did I mention that my little princess is beautiful?) The five of us couldn’t be more happy about this addition to our family. And personally, I feel like my heart could contain the heavens.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Today and Yesterday

"Today and Yesterday"

from A Tear And A Smile
by Kahlil Gibran

     The rich man walked in the garden of his palace, and in his footsteps followed care and above his head hovered disquiet like vultures that circle over a dead body. He came to a lake that men had wrought with art and cunning, and around it were images in alabaster. Then he sat him down and looked, now at the water pouring forth from the mouths of the stone figures as the pouring out of thoughts from the imagination of a lover; now at his fine palace, sitting on high ground like a mole on the cheek of a maiden.
     There he sat, and remembrance sat beside him unfolding before his eyes pages that the past had written in the story of his life. And he fell to reading, the while tears concealed from his sight that which men had builded about him, and grief brought back to his heart the strands of days that the gods had woven, and his anguish overflowed in words and he said:
     'Yesterday I pastured my sheep on the green heights and rejoiced in life and played on my pipe to tell of my rejoicing. Today I am the captive of greed, and riches are leading me to riches,and more riches to miserliness, and miserliness to despair. I was a bird trilling its song and a butterfly fluttering hither and thither. No gentle breeze was lighter in step on the flower-tops than my footsteps upon those fields.
     'Behold me now a prisoner of people's customs. See how I dissimulate in my my dress and at my board and in all that I do for the sake of people's favor and approbation. Would that I were born to rejoice in existence! Riches have decreed me tread the paths of sorrow, and I am like to a camel heavy-laden with gold and dying beneath its burden.
     'Where are the vast plains and the murmuring brooks? Where the washed air and nature's glory? Where is my Godlikeness? All these things are lost to me, and naught remains save the gold I love ever mocking me, an abundance of slaves, and diminished joy; and a mansion I raised to bring down my happy state.


     'Yesterday was I granted life and nature's beauty; today I am plundered of them: yesterday was I rich in my joy; today I am become poor in my riches. Yesterday I was with my flock as a merciful ruler among his subjects; today I stand before gold as a cringing slave before a tyrannous master.
     'I knew not that riches would efface the very essence of my spirit, nor did I know that wealth would lead it to the dark caves of ignorance. And I reckoned not that what people call glory is naught except torment and the pit.'
     And the man of riches rose from his place and walked slowly toward his palace, sighing the while and saying again and again: 'Are these, then, riches? Is this, then, the god whose priest I am become? Is this the thing we barter for life, yet cannot exchange it for a single grain of life? Who will sell me one beautiful thought for a measure of gold? Who will take from me a handful of gems for a particle of love? Who will give me an eye through which to behold beauty and take in its stead my treasury?'          
     And when he came to the gate of his palace he turned and looked toward the city as did Jeremiah to Jerusalem. He raised his hands toward it as though in lamentation and cried out in a loud voice: 'O people who walk in darkness and sit in the shadow of death; who pursue woe and judge falsely and speak in ignorance! Till when will you eat of thistles and thorns and cast fruits and herbs into the abyss? Till when will you dwell in wild and desolate places and turn aside from the garden of life? Wherefore do you clothe yourselves in rags and tatters when garments of silk are fashioned for you?
     'O people, the lamp of wisdom is extinguished; therefore replenish it with oil. And the wayfarer destroys the vineyard of good fortune; therefore watch over it. The robber plunders the coffers of your peace; therefore take heed.'
     In that minute a poor man stood before the rich man and stretched forth his hand for alms. The rich man looked on him, and his trembling lips became firm and his sad countenance expanded and from his eyes shone the light of kindliness. The yesterday he had lamented on the shore of the lake was come today to greet him. He drew near to the beggar and kissed him with a kiss of love and brotherliness and filled his hands with gold. Then he said with compassion in his words: 'Take now, my brother, and return on the morrow with your companions and take you all of what is yours.' And the poor man smiled the smile of a withered flower after the rain and departed hastily.
     Then the man of riches entered into his palace, saying: 'All things in life are good, even riches, for they teach man a lesson. Riches are as a musical instrument that gives off only discord to him who cannot play on it. Wealth is as love in that it destroys him who withholds it but grants life to him who gives freely of it.'

Not too sure this constitutes poetry but this is my offering for "Poetry Wednesday."

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Thoughts from Nouwen

From Show Me The Way by Henri Nouwen

Finding new life through suffering and death: that is the core of the good news. Jesus has lived out that liberating way before us and has made it the great sign. Human beings are forever wanting to see signs: marvelous, extraordinary, sensational events that can distract them a little from hard reality . . . We would like to see something marvelous, something exceptional, something that interrupts the ordinary life of every day. That way, if only for a moment, we can play at hide-and-seek. But to those who say to Jesus: 'Master, . . . we should like to see a sign from you,' he replies: 'It is an evil and unfaithful generation that asks for a sign! The only sign that will be given is the sign of the prophet Jonah. For as Jonah remained in the belly of the sea monster for three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth for three days and three nights.'

From this one can see what the authentic sign is: not some sensational miracle but the suffering, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. The great signs, which can be understood only by those who are willing to follow Jesus, is the sign of Jonah, who also wanted to run away from reality but was summoned back by God to fulfill his arduous task to the end. To look suffering and death straight in the face and to go through them oneself in the hope of a new God-given life: that is the sign of Jesus and of every human being who wishes to lead the spiritual life in imitation of him. It is the sign of the cross: the sign of suffering and death, but also of the hope for total renewal.

Even though Jesus went directly against the human inclination to avoid suffering and death, his followers realized that it was better to live the truth with open eyes than to live their lives in illusion.

Suffering and death belong to the narrow road of Jesus. Jesus does not glorify them, or call them beautiful, good, or something to be desired. Jesus does not call for heroism or suicidal self-sacrifice. No, Jesus, invites us to look at the reality of our existence and reveals this harsh reality as the way to new life. The core message of Jesus is that real joy and peace can never be reached while bypassing suffering and death, but only by going right through them.

We could say: We really have no choice. Indeed, who escapes suffering and death? Yet there is still a choice. We can deny the reality of life, or we can face it. When we face it not in despair, but with the eyes of Jesus, we discover that where we least expect it, something is hidden that hold a promise stronger than death itself. Jesus lived his life with the trust that God's love is stronger than death and that death therefore does not have the last word. He invited us to face the painful reality of our existence with the same trust. This is what Lent is all about.

Prayer
You have the words of eternal life,
you are food and drink,
you are the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
You are the light that shines in the darkness,
the lamp on the lampstand, the house on the hilltop.
You are the perfect Icon of God.
In and through you I can see the Heavenly Father,
and with you I can find my way to him.

Be my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer,
my Guide, my Consoler, my Comforter,
my Hope, my Joy, and my Peace.
To you I want to give all that I am.
Let me give you all-
all I have, think, do, and feel.
It is yours, O Lord.
Please accept it and make it fully your own.
Amen.


Thursday, March 18, 2010

Adoption Update

In case you are wondering where we are at in the adoption process, here you go. All of our paperwork is in Ethiopia and we are now awaiting the phone call with our referral. The process has slowed down quite a bit since we started and though I must admit that I do glance at the phone somewhat anxiously to see if I missed a phone call from our social worker, all is good here. Having gone through this twice before, I know that things are somewhat out of my control and that the call will come quite unexpectedly. Maybe tomorrow but maybe in June. Just continue to keep us in your prayers.

Gretchen and Bill Almquist are friends we met a couple years ago through our involvement in a local  adoption  group. They just returned from Ethiopia with their precious daughter. You can read their adoption journey here http://gdalmquist.blogspot.com/ This particular post made Jared and me both teary. Really it is quite beautiful.



Wednesday, March 17, 2010

A Tear And A Smile

My husband expressed that I should just copy and paste all of Gibran's works since I seem unable to deviate from him. Poetry Wednesday has been such a gift to me for so many reasons. For one, it has caused me to pick up the works of Eliot, Rilke, Dickinson, and Gibran–works which have been sitting neatly and alphabetically ordered in the section I have deemed "Poetry" but have been unopened for too many years–and actually read and soak in the beauty of the words and images of these poets and prophets. This poem is again from A Tear And A Smile by Kahlil Gibran.

"A Tear And A Smile"

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude. And I would not have the tears that sadness makes to flow from my every part turn into laughter. I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding of life's secrets and hidden things. A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and to be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart; a smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I lived weary and despairing. I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the depths of my spirit, for I have seen those who are satisfied the most wretched of people. I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals and sleeps, embracing her longing. At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet the sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfillment. A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come together and are a cloud. And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping to the fields and joins with the brooks and rivers to return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting. A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from the greater spirit to move in the world of matter and pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow and the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death and return whence it came.

To the oceans of Love and Beauty–to God.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Two years ago today

It's hard to believe its been two entire years since we first laid eyes on the twins, but that is indeed what today marks. Over the past weeks we've been re-reading our posts from that trip and thought you might like to do the same. Here are some of our favorites:

On the Subway to Nowhere: Getting lost in Seoul
Introducing...: The day we first met Russell and Elliot
War and Cease-Fire: Our visit to the DMZ
The Sunday of Orthodoxy: Our visit to St. Nicholas Cathedral
A Case of Deeya: Our quest to find a power adapter
When last we met our intrepid travellers...: Settling in at home

What a happy family the five of us are!

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Random Thoughts On A Lovely Thursday Afternoon

"How do we learn to pray? By praying." I read these words of Mother Teresa's this week. Seemingly simple; sometimes terribly hard.

This is one of my favorite prayers which I attempt (often badly) to pray each day. Oh those distracting, stupid thoughts ever crowding my mind and heart. For some of you, it will be familiar; for others it will be completely new. Each time I begin to grasp its words, it becomes more meaningful to me.

A Prayer for Peace
Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow

O Lord, grant me to greet the coming day in peace. Help me in all things to rely upon your holy will. In every hour of the day, reveal thy will to me. Bless my dealings with all who surround me. Teach me to treat all that comes to me throughout the day with peace of soul and with firm conviction that thy will governs all. In all my deeds and words, guide my thoughts and feelings. In unforeseen events, let me not forget that all are sent by thee. Teach me to act firmly and wisely without embittering and embarrassing others. Give me the strength to bear the fatigue of the coming day with all that it shall bring. Direct my will, teach me to pray, and pray thou thyself in me. Amen.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Rest

My choice for this week's Poetry Wednesday is from Kahlil Gibran's work, A Tear and a Smile. This offering is the third section of a poem entitled, "The Beauty of Death."

I dedicate it to the memory of our beloved cousin, Matthew Andrew Tyrrell (April 17, 1985-March 9, 2008)  May your memory be eternal!

Rest

Unwrap my body of its linen shroud
And clothe me in leaves of lily and jasmine.
Take my remains out of this ivory casket
And lay them on a couch of orange blossom.
Lament not over me, sons of my mother,
But sing you songs of youth and joy.
Shed not tears, O daughter of the fields,
But chant a poem of days of the harvest and the pressing.
Cover not my breast with weeping and sighing,
But write upon it with your fingers
The symbol of love and the sign of joy.
Disturb not the air's repose
With the chanting of priest and threnody,
But let your heart to exult with me
In praise of immortality and everlasting life.

Wear not the black of mourning,
But rejoice with me in white raiment.
Speak not in sorrow of my going,
But close your eyes and you shall see me among you,
Now and forevermore.
Lay me down upon leafy boughs,
Raise me high upon shoulders, 
Then lead me slowly to the wild places.
Carry me not to a burying-place,
For the multitude's clamor disturbs my rest,
And the rattling of bones and skulls robs me of slumber.
Bear me to the forest of cypress trees
And on that place where the violet and anemone grow
Dig me a grave.
Dig my grave deep,
That the floods bear not my bones to the valley.
Dig my grave wide,
That the phantoms of night may come and sit beside me.

Cast aside these garments
And lead me naked to the earth's heart;
Lay me down softly
On my mother's breast.
Cover me with soft earth,
And with each sod
Sow the seeds of the wild rose and jasmine
That they may blossom upon my grave,
Nourished by the body's elements,
To grow and spread abroad
The fragrance of my heart;
And stand forth
Holding aloft in the sun's face
The secrets of my rest,
Swaying in the breeze
To tell the passer-by
Of my yearnings and my dreams that are gone.

Leave me now, sons of my mother–
Leave me in my aloneness.
Go hence with silent steps,
The going of the stillness in the empty valley.
Leave me in my solitude–and disperse
Like the almond and the apple blossom
Scattered by Nisan's breath.
Return you to your dwelling-places
And there shall you find that which Death cannot take
From you and me
Leave now this place,
Whom you seek is gone far from this world.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Mercy

I have been a bit harried these last couple days. Quick to anger and slow to hold my tongue, causing Thomas to question why I am so crabby. (Oh my heart.) I have wallowed in what I reasoned to be righteous self-pity, lamenting the flooded basement whose stink permeates the house; the lentils dumped all over the floor (again) by two curious little boys; the husband who had to work late; the mess of the house (again); the pile of reeking diapers to be washed; the little one who really only wants my attention. Mentally I scream, "Stop. Leave me alone. I am drowning (again)."

Kindly and selflessly my parents came over (again) to help me out when I called. Armed with doughnuts for the boys, they descended to the basement and played with my precious children for several hours, allotting me some time to clean the upstairs unhindered and to enjoy some moments of peace and rest. Thank you mom and dad.

Psalm 103 is the psalm assigned by the church lectionary to be read on Fridays. How healing were the poet's words especially today, a shower of grace upon my restless heart.


Bless the LORD, O my soul:
and all that is within me, bless his holy name.
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits:
who forgiveth all thine iniquities;
who healeth all thy diseases;
who redeemeth thy life from destruction;
who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies;
who satisfieth thy mouth with good things;
so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.
The LORD executeth righteousness
and judgment for all that are oppressed.
He made known his ways unto Moses,
his acts unto the children of Israel.
The LORD is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.
He will not always chide:
neither will he keep his anger for ever.
He hath not dealt with us after our sins;
nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
For as the heaven is high above the earth,
so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
As far as the east is from the west,
so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
Like as a father pitieth his children,
so the LORD pitieth them that fear him.
For he knoweth our frame;
he remembereth that we are dust.
As for man, his days are as grass:
as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone;
and the place thereof shall know it no more.
But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting
upon them that fear him,
and his righteousness unto children's children;
to such as keep his covenant,
and to those that remember his commandments to do them.
The LORD hath prepared his throne in the heavens;
and his kingdom ruleth over all.
Bless the LORD, ye his angels,
that excel in strength,
that do his commandments,
hearkening unto the voice of his word.
Bless ye the LORD, all ye his hosts;
ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure.
Bless the LORD, all his works
in all places of his dominion:
bless the LORD, O my soul.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Love Is The Measure

Providentially, they have entered my life, though my knowledge of them has been limited to the confines of words on a page. Some I know better than others, hearing their voices throughout my day, praying for their help, that with God's grace I may work out my salvation and become the person He created me to be. Each, however, has uniquely affected my being in transformative ways. "I am powerful," a local billboard displaying a dark-skinned woman proclaims. So to are these women; their influence born from their decision to continuously surrender their will to God and to choose love as their guiding principle. In their indefatigable efforts to quench the sorrows of those suffering men, women, and children around them, they risked much - safety, prestige, comfort, reputation, their very lives and the lives of those whom they loved. The crowd blinded by fear, calculated rationales, and misguided faith branded them as fools. And perhaps they were foolish and reckless. But in a world in which people, myself included, continue to claim to resent tyranny and hate injustice yet choose to remain mired in their pedestrian luxuries claiming to be innocent bystanders incapable of doing anything to evoke measurable change, a little foolishness, a little reckless love, might be crucial lest humankind succumb to inhumanity; the image of God replaced with a spiritless machine.

After learning that she was to be sold further south, Harriet Tubman utilized a loosely organized network of safe houses, secret routes, codes, and signs, known as the Underground Railroad, and escaped to Philadelphia. As a free woman, Tubman became a "Conductor" on this railroad, journeying south nineteen times and freeing as many as three hundred slaves. She never lost a passenger and became known as "the Moses of her people."

Founder of the Catholic Worker Movement, Dorothy Day dedicated her life to helping those deemed by the world as "the least of these" and attempting to open the eyes of her brothers and sisters so that they would no longer accept "this filthy, rotten system." Day is remembered for her commitment to peace, nonviolence, racial justice, and the cause of the poor and the outcast.

Corrie ten Boom lived an uneventful life with her father Casper and sister Betsie in their Holland home until German occupation brought Jewish men and women to their door. Besides creating a hiding place in their homes for Jewish people, the ten Booms became actively involved in an underground network designed to help their Jewish brothers and sisters. Ultimately, Casper, Betsie, and Corrie were arrested. Casper died soon after his imprisonment and Betsie and Corrie were sent to the Ravensbruck concentration camp in Germany where Betsie died. After a clerical error which allowed for her release, Corrie spent the remainder of her years helping those victims of the war by establishing homes for healing and by telling the world her story.

A Russian emigre living in Paris, Mother Maria Skobtsova chose a life dedicated to serving God while living in the midst of the world. Serving the poor and homeless in Paris, Mother Maria's work during German occupation in World War II included assisting the Jewish people. During a mass arrest, Mother Maria initiated a plan to smuggle Jewish children out of the stadium where they were being imprisoned by placing them in trash cans. She then helped them escape to Southern France. Mother Maria was also arrested and sent to the Ravensbruck concentration camp where she was killed.

Rosa Parks was tired from her long day at work as a seamstress when she boarded the neutral section of a Montgomery bus on December 1, 1955. When a white patron arrived and the bus driver demanded that Rosa move out of her seat she said no; an action which resulted in the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Nearly one year after Parks' arrest, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that segregation on buses, like segregation at schools, was illegal.

After serving twenty years as a teacher of geography and as a principal at a school in Calcutta, Mother Teresa received a "call within a call" and was granted permission from the Catholic Church to leave her position and live with the poorest of the poor, finding in their faces, Christ in His "distressing disguise."

Following the premature deaths of her husband and eldest daughter, Haregewoin Teferra felt like her life was over and sought to leave the world, appealing to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church to grant her a life of seclusion and allow her to live in a hut by her daughter's grave. But a Catholic organization contacted Teferra begging her to shelter a homeless teenage girl. Teferra said yes, and the organization kept calling. Prior to her death on March 17, 2009, Teferra had cared for nearly 400 children.

It is poetry Wednesday. Forgive me for the lengthy post. My selection today is a section from Kahlil Gibran's "On Love."

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his 
pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he
crucify you. Even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and 
caresses your tenderest branches that quiver
in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and
shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred 
fire, that you may become sacred bread for
God's sacred feast.