We’ve misplaced Jesus’ Jewishness.
(It’s a bit embarrassing)
I knew we left it somewhere
Around the farm or in the yard
Between the 2nd temple and the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Lost the Messianic in the messy-attic;
We Turned the wrong tables and spilled hope of the Mosaic, everywhere.
So I guess it’s no wonder that we found other pieces
filled in the blanks with what made sense at the time and turned the free salvific into a cost-less grace.
Understand, not, ‘make a stand’.
It’s a gentler salve for an aching heart and we can say it from wherever we sit.
But what would the cows think
out there grazing on the
blessed bounty of the earth?
Do they think that what they die for is more important than their own muchness?
At least someone’s helping to search the top paddock … even as the rains come …
And with all those pieces in puddles
and no Moses to muscle the Reed Sea,
We filled in the picture with culture and reason and it’s no wonder that the hand became its center.
before long we had painted so many pictures that we forgot it was ever a mosaic hope.
… no wonder that here
I AM: confused
But I found a bit today
Back, behind the stove
Behind the boiler and
amidst the tear Gas
and passionate web of solidarity …
And if you fit it in just right you can almost see a new humanity.
The precious darker shades bring out the definition
a picture more gracious in a higher resolution.
So hope? … We are. Aren’t we?
Here and now in this new human future.
And somewhere I’m sure,
A bush is still burning.
(Who’d have thought
we could just say