The rock

After Matthew 16:16-20 

What do the people

say, he asked, who

do the people say 

I am? Perfunctory

and expected answers:

John the Baptist,

Elijah, Jeremiah,

a prophet like them,

that’s what the people

say. He makes it personal:

What about you? Who

do you say I am? 

Simon Peter, ever large

and ever in charge,

answers, the Christ,

the son of the living God.

He responds: blessed

are you, Upon you,

upon this rock, 

I will build my church.

 

Photograph by Zoltan Tasi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

The One Walking in the Fog Beside Us – Lara d’Entremont at A Mother Held.

 

Let the Lord Handle It – Chris Martin at FYI.

 

“Awake, Arise,” hymn by Christopher Smart – Anthony Esolen at Word & Song.

 

The Ingredients of a Petal – poem by Seth Lewis.

 

Milking a Two-Bucket Cow – Linda Egenes at Mary Swander’s Emerging Voices.

Broadcast news

After Luke 24:1-12 

The women return, murmuring

among themselves, grappling

with the shock of the stone

rolled away, an empty tomb,

dazzling messengers saying

he was not there but risen.

They speak the news, meet

denial (what do women know?),

find accusations of idle talk,

fake news, ridiculed

in disbelief of what they say,

what they say they’ve seen.

Except for one, only one 

who runs to see, to prove

one way or the other, and

he finds the broadcast news

to be good.

 

Photograph by Kane Reinholdtsen via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The betrayal of fear

After Luke 22:54-62 

Wanting to be there,

wanting to be anywhere 

else, wanting to see

where they take him,

wanting to be invisible, 

Then three accusations,

three separate people, 

saying you were with

him, you were one 

of them, you were

with him, three

charges hurled, three

accusations denied, 

denials automatic

and reflexive, framed

by fear, no palms

in the road this time,

no cheering for the king,

no hosannas, only

anger rising, seeking

available targets. Then

he meets his eyes,

searing his soul.

The rooster crows

three times.

 

Photograph by Olesya Yemets via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Bravado forestalled

After Luke 22:31-34 

It’s a play in three acts. 

First, the warning, 

a demand to sift 

a disciple like wheat, 

to show what

little wheat and what

great chaff is there, 

a demand countered

by a prayer for faith 

to endure; followed 

by an assigned mission 

to strengthen the faithful

when the crisis passes.

 

Act 2: the bravado,

the claim of readiness

to follow to prison,

to follow to death,

the claim stated

with the courage

of not knowing

how close were both.

 

And then Act 3:

the prediction,

the certainty

of denial,

the certainty

that courage

would fail,

coupled with 

the sign to expect

a rooster to crow

not once but

three times.

 

Photograph by Hulki Okan Tabak via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Hothead speaks truth

After Matthew 16:13-20 

Asked the question

who do you

say I am,

it is the hothead

who answers first.

The Christ. The Son.

The Son of the Living God.

And for this act of faith

revealed not by human

understanding but by spirit,

by confession,

Simon becomes Cephas,

Cephas becomes Petrus,

Petrus becomes stone,

the foundation stone

upon which will be built

the body, the ones

called out from the crowd,

the ones who will tear

down the gates of hell,

the ones holding

the keys of heaven.

 

Photograph by Barrie Johnson via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The city of Pan

After Matthew 16:13-20 

It is the city of Pan,

and of Baal before that,

a city replete with statues

to worship, now the city

of Caesar, of the deity

of man and self, this city

of Greeks and Syrians and

a dash of ruling Romans,

a gentile city. It is here

that he asks them

who he is, who do people

say he is. Answers vary:

the reborn cousin, the man

who rode a chariot of fire,

the prophet sawn in half

for speaking truth.

He persists: 

But who

do you 

say I am?

 

Photograph by Sarah McCutcheon via Unsplash. Used with permission.

From 3 to 3

After John 21:15-17 

This man, this hothead,

first to jump into the sea,

first to volunteer, first

to pull a sword, first

to deny him openly, first

to feel the shame of denial,

denial times three.

 

Three denials turned

on their heads with

three questions, sounding

the same but slightly

different, three responses

to three answers 

to three questions.

 

Feed my lambs.

Tend my sheep.

Feed my sheep.

 

Photograph by Luke Pennystan via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Three times

After John 21:15-17

 

The third time

they’d seen him

since the cross,

sharing fish

on the shore,

fish he cooks

on the shore:

three questions 

he asks, three

queries he

directs to

the man who

denied him

before death,

denied him

three times in

three questions,

asks three times

do you love

me, Simon?

 

Photograph by Vidar Nordli-Mathieson via Unsplash. Used with permission.

"A Soldier and a Fisherman" by Doug Spurling

In A Soldier and a Fisherman, Doug Spurling takes us into Acts 10, the story of Cornelius the Roman centurion and Peter the fisherman and disciple of Jesus. If there were an a more unlikely pair who would transform very early Christian understanding of the law and set Christianity on its revolutionary course in society, you might be hard put to find one. 

Cornelius was the Roman centurion charged with keeping the peace in Caesarea in Judea. He also happened to be the one commended by Jesus for his faith. And he had held fast to his faith. Cornelius hears a command – to send to Joppa for a man named Peter. Cornelius knows what to do with a command – and he sends three men.

 

Doug Spurling

In Joppa, Peter is staying with Simon the tanner. He is praying on the roof when he has a vision – a sheet let down from heaven full of the things that were considered unclean under Jewish law. And he, too hears a voice, telling him to kill and eat. That came as a shock to Peter’s Jewish teaching, training, and thinking. But the voice wasn’t finished; Peter is told that three men are looking for him, and he is to go with them. And like Cornelius, Peter obeyed, fathering some friends to go with him. 

 

When they meet, a revolution starts – the understanding that Jesus didn’t die for only the Jews. He died for Gentiles as well.

 

Spurling retells this story in an expository fashion, citing the specific Bible verses as he expands upon the story. (He points out the significance of Simon the tanner to the narrative – a man practicing what the Jews considered an unclean trade.) We’re put into the minds of Cornelius and Peter. We initially see what they initially see. And we come to understand what they came to understand. The story comes alive in contemporary language.

 

Spurling is the author of the novel The Voice and lives with his family in Minnesota and Florida. A Soldier and a Fisherman is a short but impactful account of Cornelius and Peter is a gem of storytelling and insight.

Related:

 

Doug Spurling’s The Voice.

The power of speech

After Acts 2:38-47

A few words, a single speech,

spoken as the crowd grows,

the curious and the mocking,

wondering at the noise

and tongues of fire

and fishermen speaking

languages they do not know,

a few words spoken

by the one who denied him

three times.

They listen, they hear,

they recognize the truth

about themselves, the truth

that wields a sword, the truth

that cuts hearts in two.

Reeling, they say ok, but

what now? what next?

When hearts are split

open, what do we do?

Photograph by Miguel Henriques via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Three times

After John 21:1-19 and John 18: 15-27

Three times he’d denied him.

Three times he’d said 

he didn’t know him.

Three times he’s asked 

the question.

Three times he’s given

the command.

Do you love me?

(I am not a disciple

he said to the servant girl.)

Feed my lambs.

Do you love me?

(I am not his disciple

he said to the gathered crowd.)

Tend my sheep.

Do you love me?

(I was not in the garden with him

he said to the priest’s servant.)

Feed my sheep.

And finally a prophecy:

you will go where

you do not desire.

Follow me.

Did the rooster crow 

again?

Photograph by Michael Olson via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Hothead

After John 21:1-19

Ever the hothead, ever impulsive,

he jumps in the water to swim

to shore, swim to the man

who tells them to fish when 

they’ve caught nothing, and

then everything.

He drags himself on to the shore,

the others following in the boat,

to find all in readiness,

all prepared: the charcoal fire

glowing, fish grilling.

The man says to add the fish

they’ve caught. He hauls

the fish from the boat,

dragging the net to shore.

The man takes bread 

and shares it.

The man takes fish 

and shares it.

Photograph by Marcus Lofvenberg via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Rhoda's discovery

After Acts 12:1-19

I am of no account or station,

a servant to answer doors,

to bring water or wine,

to place food on tables

I hear the knock, and look

to see who calls at this hour

of the night, the others

in prayer for Peter, in chains

I hear the knock, and see

the answer to prayer, and run

to tell the others he is there,

standing at the door, and is it

him or his ghost, his shade

they scoff

But it is him, without chains,

without jailers, standing as

a vision, an answer from God,

an answer to prayer we cannot

believe, an answer to the knocks

on the door of heaven

and I see him, hear him,

astonished, reprimanded,

then justified, 

then saved.

Illustration: Peter Returns, woodcut by Johann Christoph Weigel, 1695.

They come together

After Acts 4:23-31

They come together,

and hear, and speak

unplanned, unscripted

words, going up fastened

to hearts and souls.

The words speak first

to creation, origins,

the beginning of all

things ordained,

things ordered,

to overwhelm darkness,

void without form,

shaped into creation.

This is the point

at which we start, praying

for boldness, for signs

and wonders.

The prayer ends,

sound begins,

room shakes,

ground moves,

souls fill, words

are spoken

boldly.

Photograph by Ron Carlson via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The fisherman

Times I wish to be back, hauling

nets, often unfilled, inevitable

smell of fish on my hands, my hair,

my clothes, my feet, what my father

said I was born to do, hothead that

I was.

My enthusiasm, my bravado,

tamed, three times

tamed.

No bravado now, when I stand

before crowds, before priests,

only words, measured words,

quiet words marked with a conviction

I did not know, then, words

coming from external to me, shaking

my very being before embedding

in my heart.

Words.

The word.

Three times I lied

three times I denied

one time I ran and hid

They listen, not all, some

only hear, and afterward

I stand amazed at what

God does with liars,

and deniers.

This poem began with listening to a sermon on Acts 3:1-10 and 19-20.

Photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Healing Quartet

After Acts 3:1-10

The carriers:

We carry him each day,

legs withered, muscles shadowed,

weakness and dependency

utter and complete, to the gate

to beg, the be able to beg

for alms, for life,

each day.

The voice (telling, commanding):

Get up, walk

(stands, walks, leaps, jumps)

The beggar:

The words came sideways.

I expected alms, some small thing

but the words came instead,

and then a hand,

and then my life.

The high priest:

Who is this voice, speaking

sideways, this peasant uneducated

in the law, this peasant who lectures,

his words knifing into accusations

against the rulers, against us,

against me. Like the one

who crossed us before.

Like the nations,

we rage.

Illustration: Peter Healing the Crippled Beggar at the Temple Gate – tapestry by Raphael; The Vatican.