The man had two sons

for the fourth Sunday in Lent. See note below

Haiku of grace and resentment

The man had two sons,

Loved them both. The younger one

was eager to leave.

My inheritance,

give me my share now, before

I become too old.

When your years are few,

the party goes on and on;

while the money lasts.

All good things must end.

The cash gone, the boy must work;

starves, while the pigs eat.

Heading for his home,

practising his ‘sorry’ speech:

I am unworthy!

Dad is delighted,

his son is back. Let’s party;

kill the fatted calf!

The older brother

spits the dummy. All these years,

not even a kid!

I am deserving,

my useless brother is not;

I won’t celebrate!

You know I love you,

my Son, you’re always with me;

all that’s mine is yours

Your brother was lost,

now he’s been restored to us:

we have to rejoice.

Try not to resent

the unworthy who receive

their moment of grace.

Remember, you too,

though unworthy, profited

from moments of grace.

© Ken Rookes 2019

I have mistakenly posted this out of sequence: It belongs to the 4th Sunday in Lent. Sorry for the confusion.

We are one

We are one

Human people

children, women, men;

created, according to one ancient tradition,

from the dust of planet earth.

Creatures of flesh,

breathing air, touched by spirit;

blood filled, pulsing, warm with life.

Dust, not stone.

Together in our humanness.

Lives intertwined, connected,

bound up with each other;

one.

Your joys are my joys,

your loss I feel as my own,

your pain and your anguish are mine.

My hope grows together with yours.

We use different names

to describe the mystery

and the source of our being,

we know that no single name

no individual understanding

can ever be complete

or exhaust that mystery.

We struggle together

striving after truth,

leaning towards love;

always reaching.

We choose hope over fear

generosity ahead of greed,

love before hatred.

Always love.

Always forgiveness,

always friendship;

always we will strive to understand

our sisters and brothers

so that we might build

a future of compassion,

of justice and of peace.

We will not turn away

when we see people brutalised and suffering.

Whether their names are known to us

or strangers at a distance seeking our help,

we will stand with them.

We will put aside our hearts of stone,

our suspicious thoughts and our jealousies.

We will not speak words that lead to fear,

or hatred;

nor will we listen to them.

We will trust ourselves to love.

Though selfishness and fear

should surround us, they shall not prevail.

We will put aside despair,

and walk determinedly upon uncertain paths

towards a future of hope.

We shall trust ourselves to love.

We are one.

Let me serve you,

help you, encourage you,

embrace you.

We are one.

You are my sister, my brother

my child, my parent,

my neighbour, and my friend;

I find my true self in you.

Together we will dance,

we will sing, chant, and shout.

We will walk hand in hand,

discover ing wonders,

creating possibilities;

working and building,

crying and laughing.

We will pour ourselves out in an offering of love.

We will strive,

stand and struggle together,

defiantly;

knowing that none of us

will be fully alive

until we do.

We are one.

© Ken Rookes 2019

This is a revision of my earlier post. We used it as an affirmation at our Combined Churches - RAR   Palm Sunday Gathering for Peace, Justice and Inclusion last Sunday.

To become fruitful

To become fruitful

Haiku for gardeners

Rotten stuff happens

to both good and bad people;

it’s not punishment.

When people suffer,

have empathy; don’t blame them

for imagined sins.

These words are for all;

reflect on where you’re headed,

be ready to change.

A vineyard owner

plants a fig tree, comes looking

for fruit. There is none.

Three years to produce

and still the tree is barren.

Let us get rid of it.

The gardner shows grace.

One more year, some manure

and care: Let’s see.

Always one more chance.

So our master seeks for us

to become fruitful.

The chance to bear fruit;

justice, love and hope-filled peace.

Always one more chance.

© Ken Rookes 2019

O Jerusalem!

Haiku for those who will not.

O, Jerusalem,

greatest city of them all;

most to be pitied.

The Pharisees warn,

Get away from here, Jesus;

Herod wants your life.

O, Jerusalem;

entitlement and power,

keenly defended.

The perfect venue

for the killing of prophets,

O, Jerusalem!

Jesus will return

to the great city one day,

to meet destiny.

Jesus is weeping

for Jerusalem’s children,

who turn from God’s love.

As a hen enfolds

her brood with protective wings,

so I would love you.

Yet you would not come.

You made your choice, live with it;

I have done my best.

One day you’ll see me

and shout: Blessed, he who comes

in the name of God!

© Ken Rookes 2019

A lot of testing

He’s been doing a lot of testing

this devil fella.

Tried it on with Jesus.

What do you want? We can sort it for you.

Comfort? Wealth!

We’ll put you into the top ten percentile,

(that’s half of the nation’s wealth),

you won’t ever need to work again.

We can arrange some good tax breaks, too;

we’ve got some top-shelf accountants on our lists.

Celebrity?

The film crew will be around in the morning.

You can relax, it’s been a long time since fame

was a function of achievement.

A small team of spin -doctors;

should be able to provide

the fifteen-second witticisms

needed to satisfy the media.

Twitter works well.

Power? Influence?

Bit too late to choose your school,

but you’ll find that your hitherto mentioned wealth

will go a fair way towards compensating

for your parents’ oversight.

Just a couple of principles; commit them to memory

and roll them off the tongue when called upon.

You’ve worked hard and deserve everything you’ve got.

You are a generous person,

but you can’t be held responsible

for other people’s failures.

It’s people like you who keep the economy ticking over;

they should be grateful.

There you go! What more could you want?

We’ll go ahead, then?

Did you say, No?

Really?

What’s God got to do with it?

© Ken Rookes 2019