A5- PART M

PART M: Whom to love
PART M: WHOM TO LOVE
Even if you think you are in the right, Jesus makes it clear that you must love those
whom you dislike.
The rich and powerful are often small
and so it was with Zacchaeus, a man
well-known in Jericho because his post
was Chief Collector of the taxes Rome
imposed. When he heard rumour that a crowd
was slowly passing through the town, and that
a man called ‘Jesus’ was the reason for
the crush, he dashed ahead to find a spot
from which he could obtain a better view.
A sycamore was just the place he sought
and shinning up the trunk he lay in wait.
But Jesus did not walk on by. He stopped
and unexpectedly addressed the man
half-hidden in the leafy sycamore.
‘Come down at once, Zacheaus, for I want
to claim your hospitality and share
a meal with you.’ What! Share a meal with him?…
With so respectable a Jew? Under
his very roof!’ He slithered down to face
the man who was to be his guest that day.
Since he was hated by his fellow Jews
as a collaborator and a cheat
he was surprised to be addressed by one
so honoured and renowned as Jesus was.
The crowd were far less pleased at what transpired.
There were loud shouts of horror and surprise
That Jesus should not recognise the man
as being a detested turncoat Jew
and servant of the Roman Governor
was cause enough for comment everywhere.
But how amazed they were when suddenly
Zacchaeus spoke, and in a voice that all
could hear, announced that he would give away
one half of everything he owned to feed
the poor: and personally would repay
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A gospel in blank verse with rhymed parables
fourfold the people whom he had by fraud
deceived and overtaxed. And Jesus said
when he was welcomed joyfully to feast,
‘Salvation has today come to this house
for he is also son of Abraham,
and I, the Son of Man, have come to seek
and save, and re-instate the lost.’
As he sat by the roadside, begging alms
a blind man, Bartimaeus, heard the sound
of a great crowd, just leaving Jericho.
As they were getting close, he no doubt thought
that day would be a day his palm would fill.
‘Why all the noise?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Jesus of Nazareth,‘ someone explained,
‘is passing by.’ This son of Timaeus
had heard of him. The thought of pockets full
of money left his mind. ‘Son of David!’
he yelled out at once. ‘Great son of David,
Pity me! Pity me!’ Folk in the crowd
were keen to shut him up. He would not hear.
His shouts grew louder still. ‘Oh, pity me,
Jesus of Nazareth. Please pity me.’
So Jesus stopped. He asked to see the man.
‘Come on!’ they said and got him to his feet.
‘The Nazarene is calling for you now.’
He threw aside his coat, forgot his cash
and found himself beside the man he sought.
‘What do you want of me,’ Jesus enquired.
‘I want to see,’ the blind man said in tears.
‘You think that I can give you back your sight?
‘I do. I really do,’ was the reply.
Jesus came close and gently touched his eyes
and he immediately could see. ‘Your faith
has made this possible. Don’t tell the world.’
But when the crowd moved on, then so did he.
‘Praise God!’ he shouted, ‘Look! Now I can see.’
And everyone took up the cry to shout
their praise of God and wonder at the sign.
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PART M: Whom to love
The Parable of the Lost Sheep
O, lucky shepherd!
It must give you pleasure
To gaze at your flock
And count your treasure.
I’ve lost one!
A hundred fat sheep
Each valued! Each choice!
That all turn their heads
At the sound of your voice.
One’s gone!
Here! Keep an eye out
That lamb’s perverse
Maybe stuck in a pot-hole
Or injured, or worse.
I’ll look.
I’ll try up the mountain
I’m off! I’m away!
It may take an hour or two
Could be a day.
I’ll take my crook.
And so the good shepherd
Goes seeking the lost
Leaving the others
Whatever the cost.
Up the track.
(Then)… Who’s in the distance?
To surprise the beholder!
With joy in his stride
And a sheep on his shoulder?
The shepherd’s back!
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A gospel in blank verse with rhymed parables
He’s shouting, he’s laughing,
He’s waving to friends
‘Come round for a drink!’…
Thus our story ends.
No longer a flock
Of just ninety and nine.
All are together now:
Everything’s fine.
Accountants can argue.
They may stand their ground.
But the one that’s most valued
Is the lost that’s been found.
Not only was it in the synagogue
that people heard what Jesus had proclaimed
about the bread from Heaven and the need
to eat his flesh and blood. It got about,
and many found it difficult to grasp.
It seemed offensive and impossible
and many former followers withdrew.
There’s no doubt Jesus was aware of this.
At Caesarea Philippi the Lord
confronted all the Twelve and asked them whom
the people thought that he might be. Some said
they thought he was Elijah, or perhaps
the Baptist, or maybe Jeremiah,
or almost anyone who’d prophesied.
‘Do any of you wish to go away?
Perhaps you’ve heard enough from me’, he said.
Peter replied and spoke up for them all.
‘For us, you are no prophet from the dead.
You have the message of eternal life
and we’ve believed and we have come to know
that you’re the Christ, God’s Holy One, the Son –
the only Son of He who reigns in Heaven.’
‘Blessed are you, good Simon, Jonah’s son,
for no man could have ever told you this.
It is a revelation that has come
direct from Heaven, from my Father there.
And I’ll tell you this -- I named you Peter
because upon this rock, this massive rock,
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PART M: Whom to love
I’ll build my church. Neither the powers of death
nor yet the ways of evil will destroy
what I shall build on you. The keys of Heav’n
itself I’ll give to you. Whatever’s bound in Heaven
you’ll bind on earth; whatever’s lawful there
you will allow. On no account,’ he said
to all of them, ‘are you to make this known.
Oh, yes, I know that I can trust you all.
I am the one who chose my faithful Twelve…
and yet… and yet… there’s one of you will fall.’
He meant Iscariot, of course, the one
Who played him false for silver, later on.’
Jesus was in the hinterland between
Samaria and part of Galilee
when, in a village, he was hailed by ten
dejected sufferers from leprosy.
They called out from a distance since the Law
required them to avoid all contact with
anyone except their fellow-lepers.
The fear was, that infection might be spread,
so lepers were condemned to lead a life
of isolation, with no hope unless
a priest should certify that they were cured.
‘Have mercy on us, Healer!’ they all yelled.
Without a moment’s pause, the Lord called back,
‘Just find a priest and show yourselves to him!’
As they moved off, they found their symptoms gone.
They had been cured and cleansed, but only one
returned to see the man to whom they owed
so much – and he no Jew – but yet he threw
himself upon the ground before the Lord
to show his thanks, and praise Almighty God.
Jesus enquired of his followers,
‘Where are the others? Surely there were ten!
Is this Samaritan – this foreigner –
the only one to show some gratitude?’
Then to the prostrate man he said,’ Stand up,
and go. Your faith has made you well again.’
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A gospel in blank verse with rhymed parables
The Parable of the Good Samaritan
It’s a dangerous road to Jericho
A place of stifling heat
There’s gangsters and there’s robbers there
And you don’t know who you’ll meet.
They come upon you unawares
Steal everything you’ve got
They’ll take the clothes from off your back
And leave you there to rot.
Alive or dead, you’re no concern
Once they’ve have their way
Why! You’ll be lucky to survive
To live another day.
Well, this happened to a traveller
And the rogues left him half dead
(For those who did this dreadful deed
There’s nothing to be said.)
But a priest on the way to Jericho
Though he paused for a sec’ mid-stride
Since he was busily saying his prayers
Kept well to the other side.
And a Levite, with a compassionate glance,
Averted his eyes as he passed,
‘The man’s beyond all help’ he said
‘and probably breathing his last.’
But a Samaritan, (well you know that lot:
All good Jews hate their guts!)
When he saw the state he was in
Without any ‘if’s’ or ‘but’s’
Stopped to look, and cleaned him up
Poured oil and wine in each gash
Lifted him on to his donkey’s back
And was on the move in a flash.
He hurried to get to the nearest inn
Saw him settled in a bed
He comforted and he cared for him
And saw that he was fed.
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PART M: Whom to love
Then since he’d business further on
And had to leave for a while
He took the innkeeper aside
And said to him with a smile
‘Look after him. Here’s money enough
If there’s anything he should lack
Or I’m delayed, or it costs you more
I’ll settle when I come back.’
You know they say, “Make sure you love your friends:
do this and hate your enemies.” I say
What you should do is love your enemies.
If someone slaps you hard upon the cheek,
-- a real back-hander that a slave might get –
then offer him the other cheek to show
you are his equal, and no child or slave.
An open-handed blow would mean much less.
Whoever struck you could well hesitate.
There might be room to talk and not to fight.
Or if you find yourself alone in court
on trial for every penny that you’ve got –
even your undergarments they would take –
strip off your shirt and give them that as well
to demonstrate their inhumanity
and aim to shame them by your nakedness.
The Romans force us all to mend their roads
and fill the ruts their carts and chariots make.
If a centurion knocks upon your door
and tells you it’s your time to come and help:
a mile of road is waiting. Bend your back!
Inform him that you’ll double what’s required
and give a hand for yet another mile.
Or if a Roman soldier orders you
to carry his equipment for one mile
then carry it for two. And do not turn
your back upon a beggar or refuse
to satisfy a man who needs a loan.
To those who hear my words and understand
I’ve this to say, “You must love everyone –
your enemies, whatever they have done --
and you must bless the ones who swear at you,
not call down curses on their heads: bless them!”
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A gospel in blank verse with rhymed parables
And your abusers, pray for them as well.
If you love only those who offer love,
what is exceptional in that? Not much!
Even the wicked do the same: and if
you lend, hoping to have a good return
to pile up yet more money in the bank
there’s no real ‘credit’ there: don’t villains lend
to villains in the hope of big returns?
No! You must love your enemies and lend,
expecting nothing in return. Do good!
and prove yourself to be as merciful –
as good and kind as are the very best.
For if you do that, your reward will be
beyond your reckoning, and you will count
as “Sons of the Most High”, for He is kind
even to sinners and the self-absorbed.
Your watchwords should be ‘Mercy!’ and ‘Forgive!’
Your Heavenly Father’(i)s merciful: you too
should treat the blemished world as He treats you.’
The Parable of the Prodigal Son.
A good old man had two fine sons:
At least they seemed to be.
The elder was a stay-at-home
Who worked there, steadily.
He tilled the land, saw to the farm,
And though he seldom smiled
He’d always been at dad’s right hand
Since when he was a child.
The younger’s coat had a different cut:
He longed to spread a wing.
He found the farm a cramping place.
Why not go travelling?
He’d seek his fortune far away,
And, give the boy his due,
He’d like to taste the city life
And kiss a girl or two.
The trouble was, he hadn’t a cent
And nothing would be his
Until the old man popped his clogs
…Roll on the obsequies!
By Hebrew law, when father died
The elder got two thirds
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PART M: Whom to love
The younger would take what was left
…Still, he was undeterred.
Such thoughts as these filled all the head
Of the restless younger son
Shuffling round the family farm
When he could have been having fun.
One day, he stood and braced himself
Then told his father straight
He’d rather have his money now
Than hang about and wait.
His father then, with heavy heart
Counted out his share
And in a day or two he left
No longer son, or heir.
And what a time he had at first
With everyone his friend!
Economy? Why, what was that?
The game was spend… spend… spend!
And (the) girls dressed in their finery
Fluttered their eyes as he passed
He thought that life was a laugh and a song
And would last and last and last.
But when, quite soon, his funds ran dry
He found to his dismay
His so-called friends had disappeared
Upped sticks and gone away.
A famine too, had gripped the land.
Farewell to feast and wine.
Barefooted, cold and hungry
He found himself tending swine.
Tending swine! And him a Jew
No further could he fall
He’d have bought the swill that fed the pigs
If he’d had the wherewithal.
Then suddenly the thought occurred
Penniless, homesick and mired
That he had a much more miserable life
Than the men his father hired.
He would go back to his father’s house
Go to his father and plead
Ask for a job on the farm he’d left
And admit his sad misdeed.
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A gospel in blank verse with rhymed parables
And so he struggled the same way back
As he’d trod when he’d left to roam
And rehearsed what he’d have to say to his dad
When he got within sight of home.
But never a single day went by
When father, without a doubt
Would check for signs on the distant hills
Always on watch… looking out.
And though he was a long way off
When father saw his son
He recognised him instantly
And was out of the house at a run.
He threw his arms round the prodigal’s neck
And not a whit he cared
To hear the speech the young man made
So carefully prepared.
‘Father, I’ve sinned before heaven and you
I no longer deserve your name.
I’ve nothing to say that’s good for myself
I’m covered with pig-muck and shame’.
‘Oh, fetch a cloak for my long-lost son
And a golden finger-ring
Everyone must celebrate
We’ll feast and dance and sing!
Find sandals for my boy’s sore feet
Slave he’ll no longer be
Go and kill the fatted calf
He’s home, and loved and free.’
Hearing the noise a long way off
Hard at work on the land
The elder asked a servant lad
To find out what was planned.
When he discovered the reason was
His brother’s safe return
He wouldn’t budge: he wouldn’t join in.
‘What has he done to earn
This music and this junketing?’
Even his father’s call
Failed to move the elder son.
Hadn’t he given his all?
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PART M: Whom to love
Hadn’t he worked himself to bone
Harvested wheat and fruit
Whatever his wastrel brother had done
He’d done with a prostitute.
Always he’d bent to his father’s will
And done as he’d been bid
And what had he got for all his work
Not a day off, not a kid.’
Not even a mangy little kid
Let alone a fatted calf.
He couldn’t bring himself to sing
Or dance or eat or laugh.
But, his father said to him
‘All that I have is yours.
Your wandering brother has come back home
Before you get cross, just pause.
My son, whom I thought I would never see
Is home now, safe and sound
He whom I thought irretrievably lost
Is back here, on home ground.
That is the reason I sing for joy.
What is past is done.
He is here, once again. Let’s celebrate.
Come in. Embrace him. Please come!
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A gospel in blank verse with rhymed parables
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