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lewis-winters · 6 months

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eucharistia (this is how meat loves meat)

In Rachamps, just before Easy is sent to Haguenau, Eugene Roe brings Babe Heffron to Father John Maloney for his first confession in seven years.

Jesus said to them: "Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him." John 6:53-59, NABRE

read it on ao3

tw: Magical Realism, Horror, Religion as Justification for Unhinged Behavior, Catholicism, Catholic Imagery, Bastogne, Canon Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Blood & Gore, Depictions of a Corpse, Cannibalism

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“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” says the boy with hair like copper and a face white as a sheet, kneeling before me. He breathes deep, breathes slow, then looks to his companion who guards the door of this little hide-away. A boy of even paler complexion, who nods in encouragement. A small, minute movement that somehow takes from him a great toll. His dark head bows with the weight of it.

Disturbed by this image, the boy quickly continues: “I haven’t confessed since I was fifteen. I’m twenty-two now. It’s been seven years.”

“That’s alright.” Silence. Nervous, jittery silence. “Go on.”

More silence. Long and dark and cold and damp, the cavernousness of this large and leaky house of God echoing each drip and drop of water across empty space. Empty. Like nobody’s home.

“I’ve done so many things,” the boy says, tipping his face into his hands in despair. “So many, Father.”

“Don’t name them all. We’ll be here all night.” An attempt at good humor. “Just the ones that have brought you before me.”

“Oh, Father,” says the boy, in a whisper that sounds like a wail. “Father. I kept my promise.”

“That doesn’t sound like a sin.”

No, says a voice from the depths of the boy’s eyes. A wailing, lamenting voice, a darkness that threatens to crawl forth from the open wound of his face, and reach out to me with cold, blood-damp hands. No, Father, you don’t understand.

“Make me,” I say, taking his face in my hands and holding it steady. “Babe, tell me what you did.”

His watcher has closed the door on us now. All of us. He stands before it, weight against the wood, hands behind his back. His head is still bowed, upper body almost perpendicular to the stone floor, but his eyes meet mine. Deep blue so dark it’s almost black, staring out from behind a dark brow. Piercing. Waiting. “Go on, Heffron,” he says, voice a deep, unwavering thing. The voice of an Angel. “Don’t be afraid.”

“Don’t be afraid,” I echo. But not for him.

Sprawled against the walls, our shadows continue to flicker.

Babe tries again. “Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned. It’s been seven years since my last confession. My sins—”

Are many. Too many.

“But this one—”

The night he’d gone back for him was clear and bright, the clouds of Bastogne disappearing, momentarily, laying the already barren world of snow white and cold even more bare, absent of the broken shadows of looming trees and the shape of men beyond the mist. Even the looming cold that had settled into their bones seems to have alleviated, somewhat. Still there, but suspended, momentarily, as the fog lifted and Bastogne became just another forest.

But the dread remained. So deep in the marrow of them all that it pulled him out of dreamless sleep; roused suddenly in his shallow grave-bed and forced into the nightmare of this tangible unreality, an endless waking, by the familiar urge to rungotta go get him sir rundangerrun take him with us runrunrunRUN—

And a voice, beyond the light of the moon.

“I felt it, Father. Like… Like I was on one end of the rope, and he was on the other. Pulling me toward him. He showed me where to go, Father, you gotta believe me. I was being led—”

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

No.

Like a pilgrim to his god.

Through snow drifts and trees, down familiar paths made unfamiliar through the sudden clarity of pale moonlight. He found the broken body soon enough. Just where they had left it, earlier that day, but this time devoid of all material things.

The Germans had stripped him, just as he had feared. Taken with them trophies of olive-green pelt, rifle antlers, and silver dog tag bones. What lay in their wake was the naked body of a slaughtered child, lying in the snow, a crater of bone and flesh where his neck should be. Blue eyes upturned to Babe’s face.

Hand outstretched.

Beckoning.

“I touched him, Father. I touched him. And he was warm.”

Not breathing. Warm. Soft. Pliant. Despite hours laying in the snow.

He couldn’t explain it.

But then again, what pilgrim questions a miracle?

“I… I tried to pick him up. I tried.”

Yes. Yes, he had tried. I could see him try. Struggling and panting and finding himself crying, the grief and the desperation manifesting themselves in frustrated tears. They freeze on his cheeks, a record of his suffering. Julian, buddy, c’mon. I gotta get you up. Please. I can’t, I can’t—

But the god is in an immovable shrine. Trapped within and rooted into the snow on the ground.

“All I could lift was his head, Father Maloney. And I held him in my lap, like I used to back when the world made sense.”

Yes. Yes, I could see them there, too. Two boys in basic training, surrounded by pleasant summer heat. Golden light. One with his head in the lap of the other.

Dark hair against pale thighs.

Blue eyes meeting blue.

A smile meeting another smile in a thrilling brush of skin.

God was with them, then.

And it is with the turning of my stomach that I realize, God was with them, here, too.

“What… did you do, Babe?” I ask. I already know the answer. But I must ask.

And the boy looks up at me, open wound for a face, and says with two voices; “I couldn’t leave him there, Father Maloney.”

No. He couldn’t.

He’d brought those unsmiling lips to his mouth, and he’d kissed them one last time. As any pilgrim should.

And then he’d dug his fingers into bone and flesh, and freed his god from his earthly prison.

“I couldn’t—I promised. I said I would. And he told me that I should. He was so warm, Father. And it was so cold. And I was hungry, and Julian always—from the beginning he’d always—when I closed my eyes, I was back there, with him, and he was—”

“Oh, Babe,” I say, opening my arms. Allowing him to fall into them. “Oh, Babe.”

I have long ago accepted that to seek joy in the form of relief of any kind is not a sin. Or at least, should not be. Jesus Christ, Son of God and Man, who enjoyed the taste of wine and bread and the company of prostitutes and degenerates would not consider it a sin. It’s no exception here, where it is common for men to share many things in basic training and in trenches and in Foxholes. Food. Water. Coffee. Things to keep warm. Things to make you feel just a little bit more human. Things to sustain you.

And there are so few things to sustain you, in the frozen hell of Bastogne. In this stomach disguised as a dark forest, a belly to get lost in.

I look toward the door, where the guardian boy stands, still bowed forward (even more so, it seems) and bent at the knees, unable to meet my eyes. Atlas holding up the sky and full of regret. Frozen in commencement of penance, the weight of the world bearing down upon his shoulders.

“There is more to this,” I realize. He does not startle at the sound of my voice, eerily still. “What is it that you aren’t telling me, Eugene?”

In my arms, Babe is quiet. Hitching breaths quick and warm against my throat. Mouth against my rapid beating pulse. Teeth—

“I saw it, Father,” says Eugene, voice ringing clear and deep despite its whispered quality. “I saw them.”

He’d felt Babe stumble out of their foxhole—Spina fast asleep and oblivious to the sudden preternatural quiet and stillness of the world—and followed behind him at a distance, mindful of their vulnerable position but not enough to stop.

“Then there was a moment where I—I couldn’t see ‘im. It got all dark all o’ a sudden, like the moon blinked outta sight. Just for a minute. A kinda dark you can feel.”

Crawling up your skin, looming over you, making all the hairs of your body stand up in response. Like two, large and heavy hands clasping around you. Holding you caged between its palms. An unfortunate butterfly, caught unawares.

Wait, it seemed to say. This is not for you.

“When the dark left and the moon came back, I couldn’t see ‘im.”

But he could hear it.

The wet, moist sound of hands tearing into flesh.

The guttural snarls of an animal tearing into its latest meal.

The crunch of cartilage.

The weeping. The moaning in despair.

In relief.

“I followed it. And I. I saw.”

He pauses. Then looks up at me with pleading eyes, asking for words. Asking for understanding. He does not know, I realize, what to call it. What greeted him in the snow on that fateful night was not any creature he has ever seen or heard of before.

Part-human, part-animal, part-divine. A wretched, blessed chimera. On its hands and knees, hunched over its carrion and feasting, with great relish, upon its steaming insides. The rapidly cooling warmth of fresh death, curling up, up, and away into the frigid, Bastogne night.

“I saw, Father,” Eugene says again. “And I…”

He did nothing.

No, that’s not true.

“I waited. For it to be over.”

And it was soon over.

The chimera could only eat so much, and what he has come to set free has left the altar as soon as the steam had lifted, and once again, the fog had returned, between one blink to the next. A twin to the darkness felt earlier, heavy hands once again clasped about him, but this time, enveloping all of them—voyeur, scavenger, and carrion—all at once.

Eugene took a step forward, afraid to lose sight of him again, and the chimera, startled, lifted its head toward the crunch of snow.

“And that’s when you led him away?” I ask.

Eugene nods. He’d done it when they’d entered here, too. Appearing to me like a grotesque Angel of God in my doorway, two bodies pressed so close together, leaning upon each other for strength, that they became one entity with two heads and eight appendages, illuminated by a column of warm, orange light cutting into the gloom of my assigned billet.

Do not be afraid, one voice had said to its companion, achingly kind. An echo from that night, I imagine, when he’d taken Babe’s hand and brought him back from the brink. Took him away and deposited him into his empty foxhole, melting snow to wipe away the memory of what he had done from his face. Fed him more chocolate, offered him a cup of coffee, to wash the taste from his mouth. Father Maloney, Heffron is here to confess.

“You were right to come to me,” I say to them, easing Babe out of my arms to once again, sit by my feet as I reach out to Eugene, offering my hand. He takes it without much hesitance, lurching forward as if afraid I might recoil from his touch. Gently, I allow him to sink to his knees, and together, both of them look up to me as I stand and dig through my bag for the needed elements. “What a heavy burden you both have shared. What a weight—” I produce what I need, and I turn to them with a smile I hope is kind and reassuring. “It’s alright, now. You may put it down.”

“Father,” says Babe, eyeing the ciborium and chalice in my hands. “Father, what—”

“Let me give you a place to rest,” I tell him, getting on my knees with them, perching the precious relics upon my billet bed so that they may not touch the floor. Crossing myself, I open them, ignoring how both boys scuttle away from me, like rats, who have spent all their lives in the dark, upon the sudden, violent arrival of light. It breaks my heart, how fearful they look upon me, and it strengthens my resolve, once again. Carefully, as I may be during weekly service, I pray over and take into my hands the bread and wine; mere pemmican biscuits from previous rations, and wine I had been given from bombed out churches, mixed with a little water. But in their golden receptacles, they glow with an otherworldly power. True pieces of the Heavenly Host.

I take two of the Flesh into my unworthy hands.

“John Julian was a martyr,” I say, presenting the host to them both and watching as they, cautiously, move toward me, still on their knees, but with their faces tipped toward the light. “A man who had been living, but who’d given his life for the love of you, Babe. His death was swift and quick, there was little pain and little else we could do to keep him with us. It’s those he’s left behind that he ached to comfort—such pain it must have been, for him, to know that you mourned him so deeply.

“And so, he’d asked God and His Angels to hold Death’s hand for far longer, and he called out to you. He was yet Living when you came upon him—how else could he have enticed him to come? How else would he have stayed that warm, that fresh, in order for his body to provide the nourishment that you needed? Therefore, do not be ashamed, Babe. To cannibalize is to feed upon the dead. John Julian was not dead, not while his soul sang to you its precious entreaty.”

Now, he rests, cradled in the soft, warm alcove of Babe’s body.

“He gave his life to you, that you may yet live. Just like our Lord Jesus Christ gave the first Eucharist to His disciples, the night He was to be arrested and taken away from them. He fed them His Living Flesh, so that they may find strength for the coming days. Sustain themselves upon Him.”

Babe comes closer, the tip of his nose lightly brushing the Flesh held in my fingers.

“John Julian was a martyr who has found his final resting place within you,” I press the Sacrament to his mouth, watching it open in anticipation. A gaping maw not unlike a bleeding wound. “Let these Holy Flesh intermingle within you. Let John Julian meet God in your stomach. Turn him into a Saint.”

Babe closes his eyes and his lips close over the Holy communion, his tongue lapping at my fingers.

I let him eat from my unworthy hand.

I watch him swallow. “Your turn, Eugene.”

Eugene looks at me, unblinking. Unfazed. He does not eat from my hand, but instead cups his own to receive it. I place it between his palms and watch him bow his head over it and take it between his teeth. The hard bread makes a loud crunching sound as he crushes it with his molars. He closes his eyes to the symphony of it, and his shoulders fall for the first time since I’ve known him.

“What a weight you have been forced to carry,” I coo, reaching out to cup his face in one of my hands, the other doing the same to Babe. Both boys tip their heads into my hold, and I find myself weeping at how starved they seem to be, for a simple touch that is gentle. Babe, seeing my tears, starts to sniffle with some of his own. “Come, drink the Blood. Let it wash away the taste.”

I tip the wine, carefully, into their open mouths. They drink every last drop.

“There,” I say once they are finished, drawing Babe, who has begun to weep in earnest, to my breast. Against the hollow of my throat, he hiccups, the grief and the relief pouring out of him now that he knows he is allowed. “Oh, Babe.”

“I left him there, Father,” he sobs. “I left him—”

“You did not,” I soothe. “No, Babe, you did not. You came back for him, and now he rests in you—lives in you. This way, he will see home, again. You can bring him home, my boy. He is a part of you now. So long as you are alive, Julian is, also.”

It takes a while, but Babe soon quiets, and hiccupping, sobbing breaths turn even and steady, a sign that he has fallen asleep against me. Peaceful and dreamless, I hope.

Eugene helps me tuck him into my bed, moving the Holy vessels aside to make room for him.

“Thank you, Father,” he says to me, as I replace the sacred items in my pack. I smile at him and he smiles at me from his position on the floor, kneeling by Babe’s head, his hand held tight in the other boy’s grasp, even in deep sleep. “Thank you.”

“Judas ate of the Eucharist.”

This time, Eugene does blink, startled. “… Father?”

“Our Lord Jesus had Judas eat of His Flesh before He revealed him to be the traitor,” I repeat, once again sitting on the floor so that he and I can talk to each other at level. Not once does he tear his eyes away from mine. Brave boy. “He made sure Judas ate so that even when he was apart from Him, betraying Him to the Romans, orchestrating His death, He was always with Judas. Inside him. He loved him very well—perhaps too well. Enough to smother him.” I reach over to tap their clasped hands, gently, with a finger. “There is no position more intimate.”

Eugene’s ears color pink, as if still cold, and I resist the urge to cup my hands around them, so that they may be warm. They’re warm plenty already, I know, and that, at least, makes me smile.

“You are a tenacious one, Eugene Roe,” I tell him, getting up with a groan. He watches me, curious, confused, and I smile at him, amused.

Nobody leaves Bastogne unchanged—undigested, staggering out of that beast’s belly masquerading for a forest. But when one is stubborn, when he is cunning and astute, sure in his footing and determined in his mission, a body trapped could be sustained for long enough that escape is made possible.

“There are many ways a person could be sustained,” I say, running my fingers through his blue-black hair. And, like a cat, he pushes his head into the meat of my palm, affectionate. “You found him, fed him, and you watered him. You made sure to wash it all away, the taste. But shame is a powerful thing, and it almost took him. That would not do.”

Eugene stares up at me. Unflinching.

“And so, you brought him here, to me.”

Because he knew I would nourish him and he would nourish me, gorge ourselves on this story we spin together until hope and faith solidify into truth. He has bargained with Death well; has done so enough times to know how to win. John Julian may have been lost to the violence of Bastogne, but Babe Heffron remains, and Eugene Roe would rather see his own soul rot before he loses him, too.

“The Ignatian way of life dictates that we must strive to see God in all things,” I say, smiling down at him. “Today, you have shown me a Face of God I have not seen before. It brings me comfort, in this world steeped in decay. Thank you.”

Eugene smiles back, a tiny little thing that rapidly disappears when he finally takes his eyes away from me and turns them to Babe, silently contemplating his pale face, deep in sleep.

They’re good boys. I leave them both to each other as I venture back into the bowels of God’s House to search for a quiet place to pray.

---

tagging those who have either helped conceptualize this or who have expressed interest along the way: @bringmefoxgloves @hellofanidea @liebgottsjumpwings @pastexistence

This was supposed to go up on Halloween. But I was on a family trip so I fell behind on editing and putting the final touches in. It's here now, though, and I'm so so proud of it-- something which I could almost never claim about things I've written. I'm very happy it's done, and I hope people enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Finally, I can rest.

#band of brothers #baberoe #babejulian #babe heffron #eugene roe #john julian #fr john maloney #father john maloney #cannibalism tw #cannibalism in bastogne au #this is The Most Catholic Thing I Have Written #estrella_marie

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apilgrimsprogress · 2 months

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psalm 104:1-2 (nabre)

#o #x #psalms #bible #nabre

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 9 days

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The Wonderful Stream

1 Then he brought me back to the entrance of the temple, and there! I saw water flowing out from under the threshold of the temple toward the east, for the front of the temple faced east. The water flowed out toward the right side of the temple to the south of the altar. 2 He brought me by way of the north gate and around the outside to the outer gate facing east; there I saw water trickling from the southern side. 3 When he continued eastward with a measuring cord in his hand, he measured off a thousand cubits and had me wade through the water; it was ankle-deep. 4 He measured off another thousand cubits and once more had me wade through the water; it was up to the knees. He measured another thousand cubits and had me wade through the water; it was up to my waist. 5 Once more he measured off a thousand cubits. Now it was a river I could not wade across. The water had risen so high, I would have to swim—a river that was impassable. 6 Then he asked me, “Do you see this, son of man?” He brought me to the bank of the river and had me sit down. 7 As I was returning, I saw along the bank of the river a great many trees on each side. 8 He said to me, “This water flows out into the eastern district, runs down into the Arabah and empties into the polluted waters of the sea to freshen them. 9 Wherever it flows, the river teems with every kind of living creature; fish will abound. Where these waters flow they refresh; everything lives where the river goes. 10 Fishermen will stand along its shore from En-gedi to En-eglaim; it will become a place for drying nets, and it will abound with as many kinds of fish as the Great Sea. 11 Its marshes and swamps shall not be made fresh, but will be left for salt. 12 Along each bank of the river every kind of fruit tree will grow; their leaves will not wither, nor will their fruit fail. Every month they will bear fresh fruit because the waters of the river flow out from the sanctuary. Their fruit is used for food, and their leaves for healing.”

The New Israel

Boundaries of the Land. 13 Thus says the Lord God: These are the boundaries of the land which you shall apportion among the twelve tribes of Israel, with Joseph having two portions. 14 You shall apportion it equally because I swore to give it to your ancestors as a heritage; this land, then, is your heritage. 15 These are the borders of the land: on the northern side, from the Great Sea in the direction of Hethlon, Lebo-hamath to Zedad, 16 Berothah, and Sibraim, along the frontiers of Damascus and Hamath, to Hazar-enon, on the border of Hauran. 17 Thus the border extends from the sea to Hazar-enon, north of the border of Damascus, the frontier of Hamath to the north. This is the northern boundary. 18 The eastern border shall be between Damascus and Hauran, while the Jordan will form the border between Gilead and the land of Israel down to the eastern sea as far as Tamar. This is the eastern boundary. 19 The southern border shall go southward from Tamar to the waters of Meribath-kadesh, on to the Wadi of Egypt, and into the Great Sea. This is the southern boundary. 20 The western border shall have the Great Sea as a boundary as far as a point opposite Lebo-hamath. This is the western boundary.

The Northern Portions

21 You shall divide this land according to the tribes of Israel. 22 You shall allot it as heritage for yourselves and for the resident aliens in your midst who have fathered children among you. You shall treat them like native Israelites; along with you they shall receive a heritage among the tribes of Israel. 23 In whatever tribe the resident alien lives, there you shall assign his heritage—oracle of the Lord God. — Ezekiel 47 | New American Bible Revised Edition (NABRE) New American Bible, revised edition © 2010, 1991, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Cross References: Genesis 2:9; Genesis 13:10-11; Genesis 14:15; Genesis 48:5; Exodus 15:25; Numbers 34:3; Numbers 34:7,8 and 9; Judges 3:3; Deuteronomy 1:8; Deuteronomy 3:17; Deuteronomy 10:19; Deuteronomy 29:23; Isaiah 11:9; Ezekiel 8:6; Ezekiel 40:3; Ezekiel 40:35; Ezekiel 45:1; Matthew 4:19; John 4:14; Acts 11:18; Revelation 22:1-2; Revelation 22:17

#waters from under the Temple #new Israel #the borders of the land #Ezekiel 47 #Book of Ezekiel #Old Testament #NABRE #New American Bible Revised Edition Bible #Confraternity of Christian Doctrine Inc.

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apenitentialprayer · 2 months

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Surely He Has Borne Our Griefs, by J. Kirk Richards, oil on panel.

Then Jesus said to His disciples, "Whoever wishes to come after Me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? For the Son of Man will come with His angels in His Father's glory, and then He will repay everyone according to his conduct."

the Gospel According to Matthew (16:24-27)

To deny someone is to disown him, and to deny oneself is to disown oneself as the center of one's existence.

the NABRE commentary for Matthew 16:24

You may certainly experience peace in the midst of strife, but that happens only when to remove strife you destroy your whole life, you crucify yourself. […] Living Christ means a living Cross. Without it, life is a living death.

Mohandas K. Gandhi, in a 1931 Christmas address given to Christians aboard the S.S. Pilsna

#Christianity #Jesus Christ #Gospel of Matthew #kenosis #Via Crucis #ego #humility #peace #Mahatma Gandhi #Cross

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bibleguy · 2 months

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Day 100 Ps 17, 35, 54, 63 Day 101 1 Sam 28-31, Ps 18 Day 102 Ps 121, 123-125, 128-130 Day 103 2 Sam 1-4 Day 104 Ps 6, 8-10, 14, 16, 19, 21 Day 105 1 Chron 1-2, Ps 43-45 Day 106 Ps 49, 84-85, 87, I Chron 3-5 Day 107 Ps 73, 77-78, I Chron 6 Day 108 Ps 81, 88, 92-93 Day 109 1 Chron 7-10 Day 110 Ps 102-104 Day 111 2 Sam 5:1-10; I Chron 11-12, Ps 133 Day 112 Ps 106-107, II Sam 5:11-6:23; I Chron 13-16 Day 113 Ps 1-2, 15, 22-24, 47, 68 Day 114 Ps 89, 96, 100-101, 105, 132 Day 115 2 Sam 7, I Chron 17, Ps 25, 29, 33 Day 116 Ps 36, 39, II Sam 8-9, I Chron 18 Day 117 Ps 50, 53, 60, 75 Day 118 2 Sam 10, I Chron 19, Ps 20, 65-67 Day 119 2 Samuel 11-12, Psalms 51, 69-70, 1 Chronicles 20 Day 120 Ps 32, 51, 86, 122 Day 121 2 Sam 13-15, Ps 3-4 Day 122 Ps 12-13, 28, 55, 2 Sam 16-18 Day 123 Ps 26, 40, 58, 61-62, 64 Day 124 2 Sam 19-21 Day 125 Ps 5, 38, 41-42 Day 126 2 Sam 22-23, Ps 57, 95, 97-99 Day 127 2 Sam 24, 1 Chron 21-22, Ps 30 Day 128 Ps 108-110, 1 Chron 23-25 Day 129 Ps 131, 138, 139, 143-145 Day 130 1 Chron 26-29, Ps 127 Day 131 Ps 111-118 Day 132 1 King 1-2, Ps 37, 71, 94 Day 133 Ps 119:1-88, 1 King 3-4, 2 Chron, 1 Ps 72 Day 134 Ps 119: 89-176 Day 135 Song of Solomon Day 136 Prov 1-4 Day 137 Prov 5-8 Day 138 Prov 9-12 Day 139 Prov 13-16 Day 140 Prov 17-20 Day 141 Prov 21-24 Day 142 1 King 5-6, 2 Chron 2-3 Day 143 1 Kings 7-8, 2 Chron 4-5 Day 144 2 Chron 6-7, Ps 136 Day 145 Ps 134, 146-150 Day 146 1 King 9, 2 Chron 8, Prov 25-26 Day 147 Prov 27-29, Ecc 1-6 Day 148 Ecc 7-12 Day 149 1 King 10-11, 2 Chron 9, Prov 30-31 Day 150 1 Kings 12-14 Day 151 2 Chron 10-12 Day 152 1 Kings 15-16, 2 Chron 13-17 Day 153 1 Kings 17-19 Day 154 1 Kings 20-22, 2 Chron 18 Day 155 2 Chron 19-23 Day 156 Obadiah, Ps 82-83 Day 157 2 Kings 1-4 Day 158 2 Kings 5-8 Day 159 2 Kings 9-11 Day 160 2 Kings 12-13, 2 Chron 24 Day 161 2 Kings 14, 2 Chron 25, Jonah Day 162 2 Kings 15, 2 Chron 26 Day 163 Is 1-4 Day 164 Is 5-8 Day 165 Amos Day 166 2 Chron 27, Is 9-12 Day 167 Micah Day 168 2 Chron 28, 2 Kings 16-17 Day 169 Is 13-17 Day 170 Is 18-22 Day 171 Is 23-27 Day 172 2 Kings 18: 1-8; 2 Chron 29-31; Ps 48 Day 173 Hos 1-7 Day 174 Hos 8-14 Day 175 Is 28-30 Day 176 Is 31-35 Day 177 Is 36-39, Ps 76 Day 178 Is 40-43 Day 179 Is 44-48 Day 180 2 King 18:9-19:37; Ps 46, 80, 135 Day 181 Is 49-53 Day 182 Is 54-58 Day 183 Is 59-63 Day 184 Is 64-66 Day 185 2 Kings 20-21, 2 Chron 32-33 Day 186 Nahum Day 187 2 Kings 22-23, 2 Chron 34-35 Day 188 Zephaniah Day 189 Jer 1-4 Day 190 Jer 5-8 Day 191 Jer 9-12 Day 192 Jer 13-16 Day 193 Jer 17-22 Day 194 Jer 23-26 Day 195 Jer 27-30 Day 196 Jer 31-34 Day 197 Jer 35-37 Day 198 Jer 38-40, Ps 74, 79 Day 199 2 Kings 24-25, II Chron 36

#bible #bible in a year #nabre

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zindabad · 2 months

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KJ21

And the Lord God took the man and put him into the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

ASV

And Jehovah God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

AMP

So the Lord God took the man [He had made] and settled him in the Garden of Eden to cultivate and keep it.

AMPC

And the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to tend and guard and keep it.

BRG

And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

CSB

The Lord God took the man and placed him in the garden of Eden to work it and watch over it.

CEB

The Lord God took the human and settled him in the garden of Eden to farm it and to take care of it.

CJB

Adonai, God, took the person and put him in the garden of ‘Eden to cultivate and care for it.

CEV

The Lord God put the man in the Garden of Eden to take care of it and to look after it.

DARBY

And Jehovah Elohim took Man, and put him into the garden of Eden, to till it and to guard it.

DRA

And the Lord God took man, and put him into the paradise of pleasure, to dress it, and to keep it.

ERV

The Lord God put the man in the Garden of Eden to work the soil and take care of the garden.

EASY

The Lord God took the man and he put him in the Garden of Eden. God wanted the man to work in the garden and to take care of it.

EHV

The Lord God took the man and settled him in the Garden of Eden to work it and to take care of it.

ESV

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.

ESVUK

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.

EXB

The Lord God [L took and] put ·the man [or Adam; 1:27] in the garden of Eden to ·care for [or till] it and ·work [take care of; look after] it.

GNV

¶ Then the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden, that he might dress it, and keep it.

Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to farm the land and to take care of it.

GNT

Then the Lord God placed the man in the Garden of Eden to cultivate it and guard it.

HCSB

The Lord God took the man and placed him in the garden of Eden to work it and watch over it.

ICB

The Lord God put the man in the garden of Eden to care for it and work it.

ISV

The Lord God took the man and placed him in the Garden of Eden in order to have him work it and guard it.

JUB

And the LORD God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

KJV

And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

AKJV

And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

LSB

Then Yahweh God took the man and set him in the garden of Eden to cultivate it and keep it.

LEB

And Yahweh God took the man and set him in the garden of Eden to cultivate it and to keep it.

TLB

The Lord God placed the man in the Garden of Eden as its gardener, to tend and care for it.

MSG

God took the Man and set him down in the Garden of Eden to work the ground and keep it in order.

MEV

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and to keep it.

NOG

Then Yahweh Elohim took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to farm the land and to take care of it.

NABRE

The Lord God then took the man and settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it.

NASB

Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to cultivate it and tend it.

NASB1995

Then the Lord God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden to cultivate it and keep it.

NCB

The Lord God took the man and placed him in the Garden of Eden so that he might work it and care for it.

NCV

The Lord God put the man in the garden of Eden to care for it and work it.

NET

The Lord God took the man and placed him in the orchard in Eden to care for it and to maintain it.

NIRV

The Lord God put the man in the Garden of Eden. He put him there to farm its land and take care of it.

NIV

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.

NIVUK

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.

NKJV

Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to tend and keep it.

NLV

Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work the ground and care for it.

NLT

The Lord God placed the man in the Garden of Eden to tend and watch over it.

NRSVA