The Bone that Has No Marrow

            [originally untitled]

Posting this for Lent, though it does not have specifically Lenten language.  Lent, besides reflecting on our personal sinfulness, is often a time of renewal, of seeking a new path. This poem hints at the need to do that, lest we flounder with no good purpose.      

                        #127

The Bone that has no Marrow,
What Ultimate for that?
It is not fit for Table
For Beggar or for Cat.

A Bone has obligations —
A Being has the same —
A Marrowless Assembly
Is culpabler than shame.*

Nicodemus Visiting Christ
  Henry Ossawa Taylor, 1899

But how shall finished Creatures
A function fresh obtain?
Old Nicodemus’ Phantom
Confronting us again**!

--Emily Dickinson, 1830s.  Part One:  Life

                                        
*A bone without marrow leaves nothing for a creature to eat.  A bone without marrow cannot fulfill its obligations of holding up the body.  A person who similarly can't hold up their obligations is shameful.

**The poet asks how creatures (people) without this structure can remake themselves. She revisits John chapter 3 where Jesus tells Nicodemus that a person must be "reborn" of the Spirit to enter the Kingdom of God.  Nicodemus is puzzled.  Jesus says the Holy Spirit has to do the transforming. Sometimes John chapter 3 is read during Lent.

Winter Wakenth All My Care*

Winter wakeneth all my care,
Now these leaves waxeth** bare;
Oft I sigh and mournfully stare
When it cometh in my thought
Of this world's joy, how it goeth all to naught.

Now it is, now not seen***,
As though it hath never been;
That many sayeth, and so is still:
All goeth by God's will:
All we shall die, though we like it ill****.

All that green which groweth green,
Now it fadeth which has been***:
Jesu, help that it be seen
And shield us from Hell!
For I know not how long I go, nor how long here I dwell.

----Anonymous

*Paraphrased in slightly more modern English.  It is one of the earliest surviving winter poems in English literature, original written in Middle English spelling.

**"Wax", an old word for "to grow", from the German "wachsen."  Now used only to speak of the "waxing moon", when the lit part of the moon appears to be growing, all the way to full moon.

**See Psalm 90, which speaks of the grass quickly fading and compares this to the short lives of people.  Also, Jesus' Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 6 and Luke 12, how God clothes the grass of the field, which quickly dies, with beautiful flowers.

***Though we don't like it at all

To Everything a Season

There is a time for everything,
And a season for every activity under heaven:

• A time to be born 👶🍼 and a time to die 💀;
• A time to plant 🌱 and a time to uproot;
• A time to kill off forcefully and a time to heal 😷;
• A time to tear down and a time to build;
• A time to weep 😢 and a time to laugh   😃;
• A time to grieve  😢 and a time to dance  💃;
• A time to scatter stones about and a time to gather them up;
• A time to embrace 🤗 and a time to hold back;
• A time to search and a time to abandon s earch;
• A time to keep and a time to discard;
• A time to tear 💔 and a time to mend 💝;
• A time to be silent and a time to speak
• A time to love 💓 and a time to hate 😠*;
• A time for war and a time for peace....

[God] has made everything beautiful in its time.
He has also set eternity into the hearts of people,
Yet they cannot grasp what God has done
From beginning to end. --(King Solomon?); Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, 11
*We are called to truly hate what is evil or false; not to arbitrarily hate other people.

When I Consider How My Light is Spent*

(Sonnet XIX)

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide**
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"

I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

---John Milton

*A poem on his imprending blindness
**It would be a "mini-death" to have to give up writing poetry.

The Destruction of Sennacherib*

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances uplifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword*,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
---George Gordon, Lord Byron

*II Kings 18: 13-19; II Chronicles 32: 1-21; Isaiah chapters 36-37. Sennacherib was an Assyrian king. A previous Assyrian king, Slamaneser, had already carried away the northern kingdom of Israel. When Sennacherib threatened Judah, Isaiah and King Hezekiah prayed to Yahweh (the Lord), and the Angel of God killed Sennacherib's best fighting men in camp. Sennacherib withdrew home, and was later killed by some of his own sons in the temple of his god.

Vapory Mists

[HEH-vell heh-vah-LEEM]
Vapor of Vapors*:

 [Hah-KOHL HAH-vell.]

 All is (vanishing) vapor
[Mah--yith-ROHK lah-ah-DAHM**]
What profit is it for a man
[B'kohl--eh-mah-LOH sh-yah'-ah-MOHL]
In all his labor which he does
[TACH-ath ha-SHEMM-esh.]
Under the sun? (Ecclesiastes 1: 2a-3)

     Kind of "bleak" taken on its own! But the 12th chapter of Ecclesiastes reminds us we get all of our meaning by remembering our Creator in the days of our youth. And we know that in Jesus, we shall have begun and shall more perfectly live that life in heaven which knows of no vanity or uselessness or futility.

*Often translated as "vanity of vanities"; the Hebrew really says "vapor" because, no matter how much you clutch at vapor, you cannot hold it; in Hebrew, this is the same as the name "Abel"
**"Adam", a man

From Sea to Dark Dead Sea

[This poem is about the modern American mindset and its influence upon the Church. It does not reflect a crushing depression on the part of the poetess.]

The Jordan in but never out,
So knowledge takes in me such route
In brackish waters to brood about
The suppression of true freedom's shout---
The Dead Sea.

At lowest point, then, here I sit.
The deepest depression of deep'ning rift.
The deep'ning gloom---and shall it lift?
Integrity's shroud, hides Holy Writ. . .
Apathy.

As just-hatched bird by Nature bred
Lives just to squawk and so be fed
I now by histr'y do so defend
By justified means I reach this end:
The Bland Me.

I lived through day, I lived through night;
I lived through love, I lived through fright;
I turned inside to put to flight
The hopeless failures from crueler sight:
The Dead Me.

Whether by mindless shallowness
Or endless, stale analysis,
In Sophist and in Hedonist
The fear of Feeling here exists:
The fear "to be."

On me they float but can't dive in:
Cannot drown but cannot swim.
Advance in skills. . .Retreat within. . .
A merry-go-round with fatal spin. . .
Technology?!?!

Oh, to be that other sea,
Parted to let young Israel free,
Closed to drown out cruelty,
Fluid with fresh-faced vitality:
The Red Sea!!!

-----C. Marie Byars, 1987

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