They knew Him too at breakfast

where, on the shore, He had
already assembled, as a table,
prepared for expected guests,
a charcoal fire, some fish laid out,
and, being himself the bread,
a loaf laid for good measure.

No need, of course, for the fish they brought.
No need, either, for that excess in their boats.
To feed seven mouths plus His,
that net-bursting horn of plenty was,
as old Judas, wilting, would have had them know,
not quite au fait.

Yet fitting – that He who made Leviathan solely to frolic
should choose to play with the resources of Galilee
to make much of these staples,
to invite, to delight,
and in the olive branch of this table set
in the presence of friends and enemies

to ask, as the mercy-cup overflowed in the background,
Simon, do you love me?

Evening Collect: The Horn is Lifted (Cornucopia of Heaven)

Adriaen van Ostade - A Baker Sounding His Horn (Wikimedia Commons)
Adriaen van Ostade – A Baker Sounding His Horn (Wikimedia Commons)

Evening Collect: The Horn is Lifted

After Hammock, “Tres Dominé

 

O God –

the empty horn is lifted;

the hollow shell is given voice;

the broken branch is whittled out

and sings.

 

Three persons,

my emptiness becomes Your fullness;

my earthen jar becomes Your vessel;

my bruised reed hums with Your song

in praise.

 

My soul

is empty, yet Your table flows with plenty.

The thrum in my heart resounds in Your space.

O God, to You this broken shell is lifted:

let it fill.

 

 

Prayers of Intercession (Cornucopia of Heaven)

"Musée Henri-Mathieu-Judaïsme (5)" by Ji-Elle - Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons.
“Musée Henri-Mathieu-Judaïsme (5)” by Ji-Elle – Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

Prayers of Intercession

After Felix Mendelssohn, “Veni Domine, Op.39”

 

Veni Domine, et noli tardare.

Come, Lord, and do not delay.

(Traditional prayer)

 

With empty horn
      and plaintive voice:
                Veni domine, 
                    we cry.
Sunk in mire,
      sunk in self:
              Et noli tardare.

Our earth is cracked, our reservoirs dry:
            Veni domine, we cry.
With rising anguish, rising hearts:
            Et noli tardare.

Awaiting future harvest, while
the crops are languid in these days
                        O Veni domine,
                        we cry.
The horn of plenty has no sound
            but groans of prayer,
               from Spirit fuelled:
                        O Veni Domine, et Veni
                               Domine, et Veni                                                                                                Domine…

With dread and hope, in mounting cry:
            Veni domine, O Veni
                        Domine –
                               Expectant,
            at the clouds we sit:
                   O Lord –
            Come; do not delay.