After I wrote “Romance,” Maren Tirabassi asked me, “Is this set to music?” It wasn’t, but I, too, found its rhythm begged for a melody. Here it is:
Bring Me a Rose, Apostles
By Eric Anderson April 25, 2023
Bring me your time and a rose, apostles, gathered in prayer; gathered to share. Bring me your time and a rose-colored glass, to which we’ll aspire and fail.
Bring me the needs that were met, apostles, the poor lifted up, assembled to sup. Bring me the gifts of the rich, apostles, the rich become poor in the blood of the cup.
Bring me the change – for it came, apostles. The rich held their wealth despite failure of stealth. Bring me the gifts for the saints, apostles, they gave for Jerusalem’s health.
The rose-colored glass will not hide, apostles, Saphira’s collapse, Ananias’ grim lapse. Nor the laud that is given to greed, apostles, however much time will elapse.
Bring me your time and a rose, apostles, gathered in prayer; gathered to share. Bring me your time and a rose-colored glass, to which we’ll aspire Aspire and fail.
These seven poems and the song are based on Scriptures associated with “the Seven Last Words of Jesus” – strangely, there are eight lessons. The video includes reading of the Biblical texts, reading of the poems, and performance of the song, “As We Bring Him Down.” The poetry and the video were prepared for Good Friday in 2022; I am reposting them for Good Friday 2023.
You strode those streets to teach, to worship and to heal. You strode those streets to cast the moneychangers from the Temple courts.
And now, with failing strength, you stumble up the street, too weak to bear the instrument of death. Where once you rode in festival parade they follow you to mourn for what has been and what will be.
I’m sure that Pilate knew just what he said. This is what happens to the ones who claim they have no emperor but Caesar. King of the Jews? Claim the title if you like, but know that title brings you only here, to die upon a cross, not reign upon a throne. So Jesus, claiming spiritual rule, will offer up his spirit to the Roman callousness and fear.
How strange a criminal, whose deeds “deserved” a death of torture, understood the reign of God much better than the priests, much better than the Roman Governor, much better than the monarch, better even than the ones who followed Jesus. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” For Jesus, entry to that realm was not through gates of stone, but gates of death. Beyond those gates our eyes see only shadow, but to his, and to this criminal, the shadows have been thrown by brilliant light.
Your friends look on, O Jesus. See? Your mother Miriam: she weeps with Miriam and Miriam. She will not urge you to a wedding feast, not now, or prompt you to transform the vinegar of death into a vintage rich with life. Instead, as scarlet stains your hands and feet, you transform stranger into son, and woman into mother. Here amidst the panoply of power and of hate, you fill the purifying jars of love.
Who could not bear to watch from heaven? Was it the sun, ashamed to the Savior die? Was it the moon, unable to divert its gaze? Was it the angels who had praised Messiah’s birth? Or was it simply that the clouds must gather, too, and witness bear, and mourn, and weep?
Forsaken the Anointed One. It seems so strange that Son of God, Messiah should cry out in abandonment – or… Does it?
Do we not hear the question echo down the years, the centuries, and on, “I was your God, and you my people, and you turned away.” We worship a forsaken God.
I could not blame you, Christ, if you let “It is finished” be your final word. You only came to do us good, and we? We desecrated you, we desecrated the tree on which we watched you die.
I could not blame you, Christ, if you decided that we had rejected your salvation – for we did – and now could live in suffering – as we do. And you, who stood for truth, nearly let us live the lie, but you could not let “It is finished” be the end.
The calloused feet that trod the miles. The mobile lips the formed the smiles. The fingers that bathed his friends’ toes Are still – are unmoving – Are released from the world and its woes.
[Chorus]
Hold him gently as we bring him down. Throw aside the bitter thorn crown. Lay him in the cloth we could find. The world has been cruel to the kind.
The sparkling eyes that held yours in peace. The worker’s hands that feared no disease. The ears that heard more than we knew Are still – are unmoving – Are now just memory for a few.
[Chorus]
The open arms we have crossed on the chest Where the loving heart beats not in his breast. Draw the fabric across the dear face So still – so unmoving Oh to see it again. Oh to find such a place.
Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. – John 12:3
To the cheers of the crowd, ride along. Turn the tables and scatter the coins. As sweet perfume comforts your feet, Comfort the woman who comforts you.
[Chorus]
Six days, six days in the city. Six days to ready your heart. Six days: does anyone understand That you must play this part?
In the Temple courts, proclaim truth. Turn the arguments back on the skeptics. Raise your sad eyes to the pillars of stone That you know will come down, and come down too soon.
[Chorus]
Send them out to make plans for the meal. Wash their feet, whatever they say. Pray alone as sweat streams from your brow, Knowing thorns will be your crown.
[Revised Chorus]
Six days, six days to the palace. Six days, six days to the cross. Six days, six days to the tomb… Six days for all to be lost.
Six days to wind up the journey. Six days of betrayal and strife. Six days to lay down your power…
Three days… Three days… Three days to take back your life. Three days… Three days… Three days to raise up your life.
As mentioned in my summary of 2022, I had a Lenten success this past year, writing six songs during the six weeks of that season. It took longer to compose the other six songs I wrote during the 2022. Some were based on Biblical stories, some inspired by the writing of friends, and others by things going on in the world. You’ll find performances of all of them below, many from the weekly Song from Church of the Holy Cross series.
Wisdom Feed Us
First performed at the Community Concert of March 11, 2022
The simple truth is that I am deeply concerned about the lack of wisdom displayed by human beings. As far as I can tell, folly rules the world.
Dream of Peace
First performed at the Community Concert of March 25, 2022.
Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022. I went looking in my repertoire for a song I’d written about peace, and didn’t find one. I’ve sung “Dream of Peace” several times and it became my contribution to the Interfaith Communities in Action Thanksgiving Celebration video for 2022.
Come On, Guitar
First performed on March 23, 2022.
Although “Come On, Guitar” was performed earlier, it was written a few days after “Dream of Peace.” It is a tribute (or an invocation) to my new Martin D-10E. I had decided that I would write a song on and for the instrument when it arrived, and this song is the result.
Creature of this World
First performed on April 6, 2022.
“Creature of this World” was inspired by “Offering,” a poem by Rachel Hackenberg. It’s become one of my favorites, and is one of the songs providing background music for my video 2022: A Year.
As We Bring Him Down
First performed during Scripture & Poetry for Good Friday, released April 15, 2022.
Written for Good Friday, this song is set in the “Deposition of Christ,” when the body of Jesus was removed from the cross and brought to its tomb. It is, shall we say, somber.
Walk, Mary, Walk
First performed for What I’m Thinking #259, April 18, 2022.
I’ve written a song for Easter for a few years now, and frequently play them during the first episode of What I’m Thinking after Easter Sunday. When I listen to this, I hear echoes of “As We Bring Him Down.” I wrote them seven days apart. This piece completed the Lenten song cycle.
One in a Million of Grief
First performed on May 18, 2022.
In mid May, the one millionth American died of COVID-19. Despite robust public health systems in the United States, the disease infected a greater proportion of the population, and killed a greater proportion of them, than was true in other developed nations. The US has, in fact, suffered more deaths per 100,000 population than any other nation in the world except Peru. This song also marked the first public performance on my Kala 6-string ukulele.
Some Days are Just Too Much
First performed on June 29, 2022.
I had a number of friends in mind when I wrote this song – and myself as well.
Hey, Moses
First performed on July 13, 2022.
I wrote this for Church of the Holy Cross’ Vacation Bible School – and then fell ill that day and didn’t sing it for them. It’s about Moses – and God – at the burning bush. I should probably sing this in a higher key…
To the Banks of the River Jordan
First performed on July 27, 2022.
I wrote this song for my friend Drew, who died just a few hours after this performance. Some may recognize the echoes of Ecclesiastes’ wisdom about time and seasons.
Take the Labyrinth Road
I wasn’t on the planning team for the Pastoral Leaders’ Retreat of the Hawai’i Conference, but I was asked to bring a song. Of course I couldn’t think of one, so this is what I wrote. This is the other song in the music track for 2022: A Year.
Morning Has Come
First performed during worship on Christmas Day, December 25, 2022.
I suspect there are other songs with the title “Morning Has Come.” This one is a Christmas morning song, set in the bright light of morning.
And there they are: twelve new songs in 2022. I wonder how many there will be in 2023?
This is the premiere streamed performance of “Take the Labyrinth Road,” sung live at 11 AM HST on October 19, 2022. It was written for the Pastoral Leaders Retreat of the Hawai’i Conference, United Church of Christ, and first played during that event on October 12, 2022.
by Eric Anderson October 7, 2022
C Dm F Em / C Dm C G / C F Dm G / C G F G / C – – –
Twisting, turning paths from without to within Over gravel, soil and roots. Let the time begin For a journey of the soul from brokenness to whole… ness in the Spirit, Come take the labyrinth road.
The journey curves about in the world, in the heart, And the ground below is rough or is smoothed by art. Moving body, moving soul from brokenness to whole… ness in the Spirit, Come take the labyrinth road.
No promises on the way for insight or inspiration Just a time to step away for peaceful contemplation, For a journey of the soul from brokenness to whole… ness in the Spirit, Come take the labyrinth road.
First one leads, then one follows One aids, and one seeks aid. In the story of friendship You and I have made. But you’ve taken the lead this season And I cannot keep pace To the banks of the River Jordan, To your crossing place.
[Chorus 1]
There’s a time for work and progress, There’s a time for rest and play, But this time to say farewell to you: I’d have asked for a later day.
[Verse 2]
We shared in joys and sorrows. We put our hands to the plow. There were times of heartfelt sharing: May they comfort us now. As you walk to the bank of Jordan, As you near your crossing time, My tears flow with reason, My grief has so many rhymes.
[Chorus 2]
There’s a time to plant and nourish, There’s a time to harvest and store, But I’m lost in this time of farewell. I’d have asked for a little time more.
[Verse 3]
Bright days and thunder sounding, Our minds at work to shape words Telling others’ stories as sweetly As ever a story was heard. As you make your crossing of Jordan, Don’t linger, my friend, for me. You can lay aside life’s burden. In the crossing, my friend, you’re free.
You can lay aside life’s burden. In the crossing, be free.
[Chorus 3]
There’s a time to live and to flourish, There’s a time to shed life’s shell. Though I could have asked for later, my friend: Aloha o’e – fare well.
This song mourns and honors the one million who have died of COVID-19 in the United States of America since 2020, as well as the 15 million more who have died elsewhere around the world. Let us not forget them.
May 18, 2022
[Verse 1]
We knew the day would come though some denied, and some were mute. We knew the day would come Because the sorrow flowed so wide. We knew the day would come When the tears would overflow for all the ones who had died.
[Chorus 1]
Each one one in a million, the nurses, the meatpackers. One in a million The grandmas, the fathers One in a million The loving, the foolish. One in a million of grief.
[Verse 2]
We knew the day would come for the aged, and for the ill. We knew the day would come Because it was so hard to treat. We knew the day would come When the tears would overflow for all the loved ones who died.
[Chorus 2]
Each one one in a million, the grocery clerks, the drivers. One in a million the grandpas, the mothers. One in a million the old and the young One in a million of grief.
[Verse 3]
We knew the day would come When some refused the vaccines. We knew the day would come As each wave spread more quickly. We knew the day would come When the tears would overflow for all the ones who had died.
[Chorus 3]
Each one one in a million, Firefighters and teachers. One in a million Children and teens. One in a million 16 million across the world. One in a million of grief.
[Chorus 4]
Each one one in a million So special to someone. One in a million With a smile to light the day. One in a million So our tears overflow. One in a million of grief.
I try to avoid patting myself on the back in public – but if I don’t, what is social media for?
For some years I have chosen to follow two parallel disciplines each Lent. One is a fairly straightforward decision to refrain from something during the forty-six days of the season (I include the Sundays for this). I’ve given up fast food, beer, soda, computer games, and similar kinds of things (though never coffee – never coffee). I have almost never been able to successfully repeat one of these, so I generally have to choose something new and different each year.
The second discipline, on the other hand, is to take something on. I’ve followed exercise programs and prayer cycles. Frequently I’ve done creative projects with photography or poetry. In fact, my weekly Lection Prayers are an outgrowth of one Lenten season. I simply kept going with them.
This year I set a goal I was not certain I could achieve. I decided to write a song each week of Lent.
Although my repertoire of compositions has expanded greatly over the years, the truth is that I don’t write songs all that often. I was astonished when I counted the songs I’d written in 2021 and came up with a dozen. For me, songwriting requires a good deal more time, concentration, and focus than most other writing projects. I have and do write to deadlines, but I generally prefer to follow some kind of inspiration when it comes to music. I usually am happier with the results.
To set a goal for songwriting which is half my output in the previous year – in six weeks – well. I wasn’t sure I could do it.
I did give myself some space. I did not insist that each song be composed within an assigned week. All I required was that there be six songs by the end of the season. Nor did I impose any subjects or themes on them. The songs would be what they were, and they could fit into the sacred or the secular as it came along. I also knew I’d write one anyway: I’ve made a habit for a few years now of writing something for Easter. Still. Six songs in six weeks?
Friends, I did it. And… all six have now been performed and are available on YouTube.
Wisdom, Feed Us
Premiere performance during the Community Concert of March 11, 2022.
Dream of Peace
Premiere performance during the Community Concert of March 25, 2022.
Come On, Guitar
Premiere performance as A Song from Church of the Holy Cross, March 23, 2022.
Creature of this World
Premiere performance as A Song from Church of the Holy Cross: April 6, 2022.
As We Bring Him Down
Premiere performance during Scripture and Poetry for Good Friday, April 15, 2022.
Walk, Mary, Walk
Premiere performance during What I’m Thinking #259, April 18, 2022.
Community Concert of July 23, 2021 – Clicking “Play” jumps to the beginning of the song, “Journey Round a Star.”
As noted in the video, I am one of those people who will wish others a good trip around the sun to honor their birthday. This song takes up that theme.
They’ll put billionaires in space, because they think they can afford it. But this is Spaceship Earth; we’re already aboard it! Sing out… as we mark the day We came into the world and were on our way.
[Chorus]
All aboard for a journey round a star. Stand still all you like; even so you’re traveling far. All aboard for a trip around the sun. Celebrate the days since your journey begun.
Each you is unique, you are one among billions And each circuit of Sol… you’re a soul worth gazillions. Sing out… You’re a creature of worth. You’re a child of blessing. You’re a child of Earth
[Chorus]
Revel in joy; Loved is what you are. A star among the planets, orbiting a star. Sing out… Loud and clear. Sing out… Launch a new year.
What I’m Thinking is a brief weekly reflection on the upcoming Scriptures – except when it becomes What I’m Singing.
How Could the Story End?
They stepped out in the morning’s shade Bearing the spice mixture that they’d made. How will we roll the stone away? Is a question they don’t need to ask today.
[Chorus]
How could the story end? Grieving/mourning/searching for a cherished friend? No, the story goes on past the closing page: Jesus Christ is risen!
They found that things were not as they had been. The stone was rolled aside and they went in. With startled face they heard the word That Jesus’ resurrection had occurred.
[Chorus]
They left in fright and who could blame them If they kept silent lest the story shame them. But someone told and someone told and so we all know: That Jesus Christ is risen!
[Chorus]
A poem/prayer based on Mark 16:1-8, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Easter Sunday.
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