Who, exactly?

After Luke 10:25-37 

An, perhaps the, eternal question:

who, exactly is my neighbor?

The one who lives next door?

The one who sits near me

at work? My cousin?

My brother? My own family?

 

Who is my neighbor?

One can hear the smugness,

the self-satisfaction,

the self-justification

behind the question.

 

The answer was, is,

Unexpected: your neighbor

is also the one you despise,

the one you disdain,

the one you consider

an enemy, the one

who’s hurt you,

the one who’s betrayed

you. It’s the last person

in the world you think

you should love.

 

Photograph by Engin Akyurt via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

The Marvelous Mundane – Steven Lee at Desiring God.

 

4 Reasons You Might Think the Bible is Boring – Mitch Chase at The Gospel Coalition.

 

Knowing the theory

After Luke 10:25-37 

He knew the answer

before he asked the question;

after all, he’d studied, and

trained with, and by,

a knowledgeable teacher,

he’d been rewarded

with praise and

commendation, so he knew

the answer, the answer

in the book, and he 

expected more praise and

commendation. Instead,

he received a mild, if

loving, rebuke. He knew

the theory; he had yet

to learn the practice.

 

Photograph by Egor Myznik via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

Hymn VI – poem by Ann Griffiths at Kingdom Poets (D.S. Martin). 

 

The Unfinished Building of the Church – Michael Kelley at Forward Progress.

 

A Sycamore Tree, A Car Crash, and God’s Provision – Seth Lewis. 

 

A Holy Warrior – Joseph Pearce at The Imaginative Conservative. 

The good Samaritan II

After Luke 10: 25-37

We read this story

and we look askance 

at the legal expert

getting his comeuppance

because of that story 

and the point of that story:

it was the outcast, the half-breed,

the one despised who rescues

the victim, and more than that,

takes him to safety and recovery

takes him to restoration

we think this is a story

that puts the expert, the lawyer,

in his place, telling him

to go and do likewise

and it is.

But it’s also

a story of broken people

beaten and robbed

left for dead on the wayside,

broken people saved

by the outcast, the one despised,

the one who hung on a tree.

Photograph by Akira Hojo via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The good Samaritan I

After Luke 10:25-37

So why a story,

why this story

of a man robbed,

a man beaten,

a man left for dead,

a man ignored,

a man left for dead because

he should be

that’s what he deserves,

a man embraced by the half-breed,

the sinfully stained from birth,

the one beneath contempt

why the story

why this story

The knowledge of love

its definition

the proper wording

the correct precedents

and etiology, all this

means nothing

unless the knowledge

becomes a deed

becomes an act

becomes an action

becomes a way of living.

Photograph by Issam Hammoudi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Three stories

After Luke 10:25-37

A story told,

a story consisting of three stories

a trilogy of a kind

a trilogy consisting of seven stories, actually

the story of a man, robbed and beaten

(is it important that we never know who he was?)

the story of a priest, a cameo role

the story of a Levite, another cameo role

the story of a Samaritan

the story of an innkeeper

the story of a lawyer who first asked the question

the story of the storyteller who answered it

a collection of short stories

some no more than a line or two

packed into a handful of sentences

The question is asked as a test, a trap

the expert, who knows far more 

than this ignorant country rube ever could,

stands and asks his question, a smirk implied

The storyteller recognizes the question, the trap,

for what it is, and the smirk behind it,

and he answers a question with a question,

so how do you read the law? (implied: 

you’re the self-acknowledged expert, 

you’re the lawyer, how do you read it?)

and the expert, as they often did, as they often do, 

answered correctly. He knew his stuff.

He wasn’t a self-acknowledged expert

for no good reason

So the storyteller, seeing beneath

the smirk to the emptiness underneath,

says that’s right,

now go do it – do it and live,

and let me tell you a story.

Photograph by Fatima Fuentes via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Down to Jericho

After Luke 10:25-37

Quickly they come

the men the thieves the blows

knocked down beaten

fall to the roadside

tasting dust mixed with blood

moving to and from

a bare awareness

hearing the sounds of feet

horses hooves animals

cold the cold on my chest

tasting blood mixed with dust

blood seeping down my face

blood seeping into my eyes

mixing with tears, pain

head pounding body shivers

then knees in the dust

beside me, hands touching

my wounds, my blood

a voice touching my wounds

cleaning my wounds

through a blurred mist

I see a face of kindness

a heart cloaking me

with care, with love

Painting: The Parable of the Good Samaritan by Jan Wijnants (1670).

The conversation

What shall I do?

            How do you read the law?

Love

Love

Do this and live,

likewise

But who?

But who do I love?

            Show mercy

            love your neighbor’s

            ugliness

            as you own

            Go and do likewise

            Not a way of life

            A way to life

            life

            not a rehearsal

            or a tryout

            life.

I see the dust of the road

I see the dust of the road

through the pain

the blood in my eyes

my blood, everything hurts

as the man with scrolls

walks by, as the priest

looks away and walks by

I taste the dust of the road

as the sun beats down

I swallow the dust of the road.

Photograph by Lilla Frerichs via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The road here

The road here is always

the same, unchanging,

the same terrain, the same

people traveling the road,

passing the body on the side

of the road, lifeless, or

nearly so, we keep traveling

the same road, we teachers,

we priests, we who always

know the right thing

to say.

Photograph by Larisa Koshkina via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Boxes in disarray

Boxes in disarray

tumbled on the floor

jumbled in no apparent order

just boxes

the more he straightens them

the more the disarray,

the jumble, tumble

the more he stacks

and stabilizes the more

the disarray until the boxes

themselves begin to split,

tape unraveling, it’s boxes

on the floor, flattened

he can’t stop the jumble

Photograph by Junior Libby via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.