A Madrašâ for Ash Wednesday based on Joel 2
1.
Blow the siren, let the streets go silent,
Let the town hold its breath and the rooftops shudder.
Let the highways empty, the fields lie still;
The storm is near, and none can outrun it.
The wind will strip the trees bare,
The dust will bear witness against us.
2.
The earth groans with the weight of our wrong,
The ground drinks deep the blood of the poor.
The hands that should bless have turned to stone,
The lips that should plead are dry as husks.
The sun is dimmed by the smoke of our greed,
The moon is red with the stain of our shame.
3.
O man of dust, who told you to stand tall?
Did you not rise from the soil of the garden?
Do you not bear the mark of the fallen?
Do you not taste the bitterness of exile?
Come down from your high walls, O proud one;
The Lord is near, and His fire will test you.
4.
The feast is stripped, the table is bare,
The grapes have shriveled on the vine.
The song of the bride has turned to wailing,
The groom's voice is hushed with dread.
The wedding hall stands empty,
And the oil runs low in the lamps.
5.
Yet even now, before the whirlwind strikes,
Before the earth cracks beneath our feet,
A whisper breaks through the thickened air,
A breath of mercy stirring the dust.
Turn back, O children of men;
The hand that strikes is the hand that heals.
6.
Tear your hearts, not your garments,
Scatter your pride, not your grain.
Bow your heads, but lift your souls;
The Lord takes no joy in empty rites.
Fast from the anger that burns like a fire,
Fast from the tongue that cuts like a blade.
7.
Do not kneel in dust while your heart stands stiff,
Do not blacken your brow while your hands shed blood.
Do not turn your eyes downward in false grief,
While your feet still chase after silver and gain.
The Lord sees past the ashes on your brow,
He seeks the ashes of a broken soul.
8.
The city swells with the weight of its guilt,
The alleyways murmur with hidden sins.
The elders speak of justice in broad daylight,
But cheat their workers when the stars come out.
What use is fasting if the widow weeps?
What use is mourning if the orphan begs?
9.
Nineveh cast off its purple robes,
And the beasts of the field went hungry.
Sackcloth wrapped the backs of kings,
And the dust of the streets bore their tears.
They bowed, and the storm broke apart.
They wept, and the whirlwind passed them by.
10.
O Adam, who once walked clothed in light,
Now you shiver in the rags of your sorrow.
You once drank freely from the river of life,
Now your lips taste the bitterness of dust.
Your sons still wander east of Eden,
Your daughters still bear the curse of exile.
11.
Come, O lost ones, kneel with the earth;
The One who formed you bends low to meet you.
The breath that made you is near once more,
The hands that shaped you are stretched to heal.
His love is a flood that drowns out wrath,
His mercy a river that sweeps sin away.
12.
The rain will fall, the land will soften,
The fields will drink deep and break forth in green.
The tree that was barren will bear fruit again,
The husk of the seed will split and rise.
But first, the plow must tear through the earth,
And first, the blade must carve through the heart.
13.
The Lord has called, the bell has tolled,
The reckoning looms, but hope still lingers.
The Shepherd has left the ninety-nine,
And seeks the lost in the brambles of sin.
Will you hear Him, O wandering soul?
Will you answer before the night comes?
14.
The fig tree watches, the vine stands still,
The branches stretch toward the sky in waiting.
Even the earth longs for the footstep of its Maker,
Even the dust waits for the stir of His breath.
Do not let the stones cry out in your place,
Do not let the fields mourn while you stand silent.
15.
See, the bridegroom leaves His chamber,
And the bride washes her feet in the river.
The feast is laid, the oil is poured,
But the door stands open for but a little while.
Blessed is the one who enters now;
The night is coming, and the gate will close.
16.
What you have lost will be given back,
What you have wasted will be filled again.
The years the locusts have eaten are known to Him,
The fields that were charred will be green once more.
But first, the fire must pass through the land,
And first, the dross must be burned from the gold.
17.
So blow the siren, let the watchmen cry,
Let the mothers wail and the fathers mourn.
The Lord has drawn near with His plow and His fire,
But He waits, He waits, for the sound of your voice.
Blessed is the man who bends his knee,
Blessed is the heart that breaks before the dawn.
18.
He will not leave you for ruin, O dust;
The One who formed you will not forget.
The breath that made you still calls your name,
The hands that shaped you still long to mend.
Blessed is the soul that bends like the wheat;
The wind may howl, but it will not uproot him.
19.
The barns will fill, the vats will overflow,
The land will be heavy with wine and oil.
The feast that was stilled will ring with song,
The sorrow of night will give way to morning.
The Lord is slow to strike,
And quick to pour out mercy.
20.
He will gather the outcast and call them His own,
He will bind the wounds of the broken-hearted.
He will lift the poor from the dust of the earth,
And set them among the sons of the King.
O dust, take heart, for you will rise!
O ashes, rejoice, for you will shine!
21.
Come now to the river that quenches the flame,
Step into the flood that washes away the ash.
The dust of death will be lifted from your brow,
The mark of grief will be drowned in the deep.
Blessed is the one who dies in these waters;
He shall rise in the light of the King.
Amen.
