This is the series of poems I mentioned in another thread. A year or so ago, I was told by one of the elders in my church that there's a Czech folk tradition that calls the various Advent Sundays after various metals, Iron Sunday, Bronze Sunday, Silver Sunday, and Gold Sunday, but nobody knows why. (I assume there's some sort of ancient church tradition that has been forgotten). Biblical meanings of these metals and their connections to Advent immediately came to mind, and so in the best tradition of "taking captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ,” I wrote a series of poems to reclaim them in the hopes of creating a new Czech Church Advent tradition. It was too late to have them translated in time for last advent, but my brother-in-law has stepped up to the plate and taken on the task for this year, and our combined efforts have been very well received by my our congregation so far. Since Silver Sunday is almost upon us, I will post the first three in this OP, then add the others on their given days. Last year Czech Christmas Day (the 24th) also fell on a Sunday, giving the series extra resonance.
Iron Sunday
Nations crushed by iron wheels,
With gladii and oblong shields,
As far as human eyes can see
Reigns Caesar unopposed, supreme.
He sees himself as a great god
To rule all with an iron rod.
“My empire has been built to last
My might will never be surpassed.”
But soon That Day will come.
Bronze Sunday
Bronze shields and spears arranged in ranks,
To form the fearsome Greek phalanx,
Conquered nations far and wide;
Now there’s a new source of Greek pride:
Bold theories and insightful thoughts
That they debate in marble courts.
“Whose wisdom can outshine our own
Or that of our great pantheon?”
Twixt oracles and temples grand,
In Athens a small altar stands,
Placed there as a reverent nod
To an as yet unknown god.
But soon That Day will come.
Silver Sunday
Bags of silver coins change hands
For human lives from distant lands:
Some caught in war, some caught at crime,
Some could not pay their debts in time.
With chains on their bruised feet and hands,
Worth thirty silver to a man;
Some foolishly still dare to dream
That they could one day be redeemed.
But soon That Day will come.
Iron Sunday
Nations crushed by iron wheels,
With gladii and oblong shields,
As far as human eyes can see
Reigns Caesar unopposed, supreme.
He sees himself as a great god
To rule all with an iron rod.
“My empire has been built to last
My might will never be surpassed.”
But soon That Day will come.
Bronze Sunday
Bronze shields and spears arranged in ranks,
To form the fearsome Greek phalanx,
Conquered nations far and wide;
Now there’s a new source of Greek pride:
Bold theories and insightful thoughts
That they debate in marble courts.
“Whose wisdom can outshine our own
Or that of our great pantheon?”
Twixt oracles and temples grand,
In Athens a small altar stands,
Placed there as a reverent nod
To an as yet unknown god.
But soon That Day will come.
Silver Sunday
Bags of silver coins change hands
For human lives from distant lands:
Some caught in war, some caught at crime,
Some could not pay their debts in time.
With chains on their bruised feet and hands,
Worth thirty silver to a man;
Some foolishly still dare to dream
That they could one day be redeemed.
But soon That Day will come.
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