Introduction
In the fall of 1999, visual artist, Keaton Sapp, and I began working on an exhibit for Lent of 2020. Our desire was to create something akin to the Stations of Cross that are found in many church buildings. I say “akin” because we planned to limit ourselves to events recorded in the Scriptures and because the artwork Keaton would create would be metaphorically abstract rather than figuratively representational. I, in conjunction with his drawings, would write ekphrastic poetry in response to his drawings and the Scriptural events which inspired them.
Keaton landed on the image of fig tree to represent Jesus Christ in these stations. It is an appropriate allusion as God speaks of Israel as His own fig tree and Jesus is the true Israel. In using the fig tree as the central image of the events from Holy Thursday to Resurrection Sunday, Keaton did not merely limit himself to the tree; you will see fruit, branches, and leaves. However, knowing the imaginative key will help you understand the artwork and poetry better.
The events of the Spring of 2020 broke in the midst of the installation and completion of this project. It was an exhibit that was hung seemingly for no purpose as the church stopped meeting in person for a season. I will never forget our first attempts at Zoom and live streaming. It was rough. The fear and grief of the loss was one thing, but then the social unrest and rise in violence nearly broke me. I did not write the last poem until well after Easter — May of 2020. The last poem, “One Day,” reflects my longing for a day when “Resurrection will wipe the tears from our face.”
Lastly, for a few of the poems, I have added an audio clip of me reading the poem. The forms which I have employed are sonnets, riffs on terza rima, and simple rhyming stanzas. And if you are so inclined, the Almond Tree Artist Collective printed copies of the pictures and poems as well as an accompanying devotion in a bound paperback book. If you can pay to cover the cost of printing and shipping, I would be happy to send you one
I hope and pray you have a meaningful Holy Week where you meet and are met by the One who is Life.
All poetry © Randall Edwards 2020.
All artwork © Keaton Sapp 2020 and is pen and ink on paper (8.5 x 11).
Station 1 — The Anointing
Thou Saw First based on Matthew 26:6-13; Psalm 133:3 The crack of thy alabaster flask snapped Us out of our selfish, drowsy daze — Out of the day’s worries which had snared, trapped. The odor of the heavy, earth-perfume Enfolded us, wrapped ‘round, and filled the room. The oil thou poured on his head dripped slowly, Not like the water he would later pour On our feet to wash, make us holy. This scent embedded in hearts the free grace Of him who touched our souls with love’s fragrance. But the scent did not o’erwhelm common sense; This gesture must have been worth thousands. Why this gift of kingly extravagance? It was a waste, could have been used for more; It should have been sold, used for the poor. But thou alone saw what we were blind to That the High Priest’s blessing had come to us— Blessing had fallen as Mount Hermon’s dew. Through thy tears thou saw the fullness of love While we complained, standing over as judge. Thou saw it all, Mary. Thou poured it out. And we complained, we questioned thy right— We sounded like those who would later flout. But we hail thee now, for the love thou poured, gave Thou saw first among those our Savior saved.
Station 2 — Watch with Me
Watch with Me based on Matthew 26:36-46, Psalm 121:3-6, Matthew 10:16 Come a little further and stay with me. Let us watch and pray ‘neath the orchard tree. Leave me not alone here in my crying; My soul is breaking, of sorrow dying. Kneeling in prayer in the grove, he bent down, Set aside his will, set aside his crown, Prayed, Father, let this cup pass from me, Yet not my will be done, but your will be. Weak, we fell asleep, did not understand That we slept in the shade of God’s right hand Who watches, who neither slumbers nor sleeps, Who is our shield, who ever-prays and keeps. In this garden, he kept his word of love. Arose and faced the serpent as a dove.
Station 3 — The Kiss
A Kiss Genesis 2:7-9 and Matthew 26:47-50 God took what He made, shaped by His own hand, Held him close, kissed with life, and made him breathe; Took his hand, placed him in, made him stand In the heart of the Garden with the Tree. But Man took the fruit, would not trust or wait To be given that which could not be bought; They sold themselves, and were cast through the gate To die in the wild, toil for what was lost. The God-Man came to the Garden at night, To seek His Father’s will, keep faith, not forsake; Touch his lips to the curse, make all things right; Take the cup, drink its dregs, sin’s power break. Hung on a tree, the fruit which buys love’s bliss: Is sold for silver, betrayed with a kiss.
Station 4 — The Rooster Crows
The Rooster's Crow based on Matthew 26:30-35 and Matthew 26:69-75 By the time the rooster crowed, he told me, A seasoned fisherman from Galilee, That I would deny him not once, twice, but three? Me! Always so cocksure confident; I Said, “Never Lord, I will never deny; These others might flee, but I’ll never fly!” I admit I’m often wrong — never in doubt; When just saying would do, I would shout; I’d earn, deserve it, not take a handout. Doubt settles in; I followed him here Whose entrance on Sunday was praised and cheered; He’s sheepishly silent before these shearers. Here, a servant girl looks, notices me, “You follow that teacher from Galilee! Tell me true; you are one, you must be.” “Really, I can’t imagine what you mean.” When another girl says, “I know I’ve seen You with the one they call the Nazarene.” Green, my face pales. How could both Servant girls know? Question my troth? “I swear I don’t know him!” I give my oath. Oaf! I hear myself speak reflexively, “I do not know the man,” I say cooly. “I don’t know him!” and add, “Truly!” “Surely,” from the crowd another says, “You’re from Galilee your accent betrays You must be one those who follows the way.” “Nay!” (overplayed) I shout, I vow: “I swear, I told you, let judgment fall now If I am one of his, I don’t know how!” Now, the third time, I’ll not forget the pain As I called down a curse, the crowing began And I stopped. I did not speak again. And I denied him three times, made a show. What he knew, I myself would come to know, When judgment sounded with the rooster’s crow. So, in th’ end pride plucked me off, pitched me down, As shame swelled in waves with tears to drown Broken to pieces, left lying on the groundl.
Station 5 — The Crucifixion
Another Tree based on Matthew 27:27-44 I wonder sometimes if I might be A pointless, fruitless, cursed, fig tree If my waiting in faith matters at all If blessing from heav’n will ever fall. Will in this moment of sacrifice In receiving the cup, laying down life, Will it matter at all, will anyone care Or see the burden I freely bear? Men kick with boots, on the holy tread, Crown with thorns, thresh with flail, beat till red, Crush the tender leaf, snuff out the wick, Step upon the broken, beat and kick… And break in anger, uproot and tear The life from him who is life, is dear; These men raise up another tree To take in hand their own destiny. Laid at the root is judgment’s ax I see now you hear, know what I ask; For me you bore the blade, were cut down That you might rise, share with me your crown. The punishment which brings me peace Was born by you whom I counted least That doing good I shall never be Fruitless in faith as a cursed fig tree.
Station 6 — The Descent
Leaves Fall based on Matthew 27:45-50, Revelation 22:1-2 From the tree’s height life falls as leaves let go To dying by mere single, small, slow drops— A cascade of un-re-lent-ing blows: First, breathing strains, then the beating heart stops. Down, down, down, leaves fall and cover the ground; One by one life leaves, litters the hill; The tree’s arms grow bare, his bark burnt and browned By death’s dark shadow and winter’s cold chill. But in a future city’s heart days hence, A grove of trees stand along a river bright; Their leaves wind with salvation’s sweet fragrance, Shimmer dappled blessing and spangled light. And those leaves fall with healing not with death, Love blows with blessing full of Living Breath.
Station 7 — The Earth Shook
What More Can Be Done? based on Matthew 27:51-61 When all was new, lovely, shimmering bright, When the balmy breeze of evening Blew and satisfied the care, full, keening Of longing, when all was clear and light, The man took from his wife the fruit of the tree And pulled sin and death down on you and me. They hid themselves there among the leaves; Naked, they covered themselves for shame And blushing in regret and shifting blame, They took the Maker’s making, hiding with trees The good, lush life which they’d been given— Hid through subtlety, rather than shriven. Into the woods and weeds they were sent To live as exiles cast from that place Cursing and crying for mercy and grace. Bowed over, broken, by their sin bent, They bear their burden: the pain of birth, To hoe the hard dirt, sow, reap from the earth. The Maker came to his children cast out Sowing blessing, life, bearing fruit to them, But they took: on a tree’s hill, murdered him, And mocked his suff’ring with curses and shouts. What now can be done? Can life bud with bloom? Is any hope left, when hope’s sealed in a tomb?
Station 8 — The Rising
As for Light based on Luke 24:1-4 There is a saying that goodness reads white, That value and shade, whether stark or slight, Makes more interesting the subject, more real Than the purity of colorless light. We think we can see, that we can see through, But that’s false, whatever we claim to do; To see through something is so that we may See something beyond, what is real, what's true. As for light, we don't see it as a thing, But by it we see the bird on the wing Whose colors give joy as he flies above; It’s how we know, how we see everything. White isn’t simply the absence of hue It is all color: red, green, yellow, blue— A spectral rainbow bound as one Until split by prism or splashed by dew. The black of night is when color is gone; It is no thing, it’s singing without song; As music fills silence, day fills the dark It’s the good that illuminates the wrong. Darkness sought to grasp, put the good to flight By thinking itself something, by its might, But on Sunday, into that nothing of a tomb Love drove out darkness with fullness of Life.
Station 9 — Resurrection
One Day based on John 20:11-18 When will the killing stop? When will the crying Be given over to joy, tears wiped away? When will laughter replace our sighing— The night’s fear cleared by the rise of new day? When will mothers no longer give their sons To wars which always take more than their share? When be armed with grace, not hate, not guns, Nor left to die by those who don’t care? Funerals are the last things mothers do For those whom they’ve carried, delivered, lost— For those whom they’ve raised and prayed over too; Their tears are the price paid by love’s cost. One day with them Surprise shall call in Grace And Resurrection wipe the tears from our face.
Altogether excellent and a beautiful meditation on the Savior!
I have just started my journey with the first two poems. I will be back. What a provacative, potent, and edifying project. More in the next days.