Of the Twelve? Of the Three? Of the…?

“[A man from the crowd shouted,] ‘I begged your disciples to cast [the spirit] out, but they could not.’ Jesus answered, ‘You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you?'” – Luke 9:40-41

You left us, Jesus, you know you did.
You left us watching as you climbed the mount
with Peter, James, and John – that trio Andrew
calls “the Trinity” (and thinks he’s funny).

Now while you all were gone, I think it’s fair
to say, all hell broke loose down here.
I’m glad you got and took the time to pray –
you needed it for sure – but man! The crowds.

The crowds formed up and would not go away.
Some wanted bread, like when you fed so many.
Some wanted learning (or they said they did).
And many wanted healing from their pains and ills.

We couldn’t cope. We couldn’t manage. Or, at least,
we didn’t in the moment. We had done so well
before! Going through the villages
and curing diseases everywhere we went. But…

But not this time. This time our weariness prevailed.
This time our tiny mustard seeds of faith had failed.
This time our envy – why weren’t we a part
of Andrew’s Holy Trinity? – sat upon our souls.

I’m glad you’re back, you and the Trinity,
but secretly I wonder now if I am really one
of yours, or if you’ve left the nine abandoned
for the three. Your words imply you’ve borne us long enough.

So, Jesus, in the hope that you love more than three…
So, Jesus, in the hope that you love more than twelve…
So, Jesus, in the hope that you love me…
I follow still, and swallow bitter tears.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 9:28-43a, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Transfiguration Sunday. 

The illustration is Jesus Heals a Demon-possessed Boy from a manuscript of the Gospels penned by scribe Ilyas Basim Khuri Bazzi Rahib ca. 1684. Photo by Walters Art Museum: Home pageInfo about artwork. Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18850856.

Wait. What?

[Jesus said,] “But woe to you who are rich… who are full now… who are laughing now… when all speak well of you…” – Luke 6:24-26, excerpted

Oh, thank you, Jesus, for those comforting words!

“Blessed are the poor.”
Did you forget “in spirit”?

“Blessed are the hungry.”
“For righteousness,” you mean.

“Blessed are those who weep.”
Didn’t you mean, “those who mourn”?

“Blessed are you when people hate you.”
Isn’t it amazing, Jesus, that people could hate me?

Wait. What?

You have more to say?
Oh, I don’t like that. Oh, no.

“Woe to the rich”?
They seem pleased with their consolation.

“Woe to those who are full”?
Well, sure they’ll be hungry again. And filled again, I’m sure.

“Woe to those who laugh”?
Honestly, don’t we need more laughter in this world?

“Woe to you when all speak well of you”?
Oh, that one stings. I want to be remembered well,
and even honored, for…

Helping the poor gain the realm of God.
Helping the hungry be filled.
Helping the weeping find comfort.
Amplifying the silenced voices.

Wait. What?

A poem/prayer based on Luke 6:17-26, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany. 

The image is Blessed Are Those by Hochhalter, Cara B., from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=59299 [retrieved February 8, 2022]. Original source: Cara B. Hochhalter, A Challenging Peace in the Life and Stories of Jesus, 2019.

I’ll Catch Up

“…They caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.” – Luke 5:6b

“When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” – Luke 5:11

“What the…? The net is full of fish!”

“How can it be? We fished all night.”

We both avoided looking at the Teacher/Healer sitting in the boat. He’d probably be smiling. We knew that he’d be smiling. He’d probably start laughing if we saw his face.

“Clap on that line and heave!

“I’m heaving, Simon! But we’re dragging the gunwale under!”

“We’ve got to get the fish into the boat!”

“Do we need to bring the water in as well?”

Oh, now he’s laughing. He’s ankle-deep in water and he’s laughing.

“James! John! Come help!”

“Are you crazy, Simon? They’ll laugh, too.”

“They can do all the laughing they like as long as they take some of the weight.”

They laughed, for sure, but they ran their boat into the water fast, and pulled like racers to our swamping craft.

“Hold on!”

“I’m holding! It’s not helping!”

They came alongside. The Teacher, laughing, tossed a line to them from the overflowing net.

“Haul away!”

“We’re hauling, Simon!”

“We’re hauling ourselves into the lake!”

We paused, panting, and considered our predicament. We hadn’t raised a single fish above the gunwale. Instead, the fish had hauled our gunwales down into the the waves. The water chuckled back and forth from stem to stern.

“James, take hold. John, take the oars. We’ll row back to the shore and deal with the net and the fish there.”

“Got it, Simon!”

“Andrew, row!”

I rowed. The Teacher’s mirth subsided, mercifully. James and John giggled between gasps. Simon’s arms could have been carved of stone. He might have modeled for a Greek sculptor interested in those ligaments and veins. I rowed, and each stroke carried us a fraction of what it should, dragged back by that overflowing catch of fish.

The net caught first, its bottom still beneath the keels. The boats grounded further out than we had liked, semi-swamped as they were. Simon shouted directions I can’t remember to roll the net’s silvery burden toward the shore. Eventually, the net and its wriggling contents rested on solid ground, except for those fish that had flung themselves back into the waves, where we, exhausted, let them go.

“Fear not,” the Teacher said. “I’ve got some other fishing for you to do.”

Simon, James, and John in bafflement stepped toward him. But… someone had to deal with all the fish, and clean the nets, and bail the boats.

“Go on. I’ll tend to this. Don’t worry.

“I’ll catch up.”

A story based on Luke 5:1-11, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany. 

The image is The Miraculous Draught of Fishes by Joachim Beuckelaer (1563) – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=13268606.