Take your oil and anoint him

Haiku of choosing

Saul disobeyed God,

so the ancient story goes;

limits the slaughter.

This ancient notion

of a ruthless God, disturbs;

leads us to question.

. . .

Saul was rejected.

God told Samuel, the Judge,

to choose a new king.

Fill your horn with oil,

go to the house of Jesse;

it’s at Bethlehem.

One of Jesse’s sons

is destined to be made king.

I have chosen him.

If Saul hears of it

I’m dead meat! Take a heifer;

make a sacrifice.

The elders come out

from Bethlehem. They’re trembling.

Have you come in peace?

I make sacrifice

to God. Come, join me. You too,

Jesse; and your sons.

The first, Eliab,

came before him. Surely he

is God’s anointed!

But no; for God looks

not upon a man’s stature,

but upon his heart.

In all, seven sons

are brought before Samuel.

Is there another?

The youngest, David,

is with the sheep. Send for him,

we’ll wait ‘til he comes.

The lad was ruddy.

Take your oil and anoint him;

he’s the one, says God.

© Ken Rookes 2024

Take your oil and anoint him

Haiku of choosing

Saul was rejected.

God told Samuel, the Judge,

to choose a new king.

Fill your horn with oil,

go to the house of Jesse;

it’s at Bethlehem.

One of Jesse’s sons

is destined to be made king.

I have chosen him.

If Saul hears of it

I’m dead meat! Take a heifer;

make a sacrifice.

The elders come out

from Bethlehem. They’re trembling.

Have you come in peace?

I make sacrifice

to God. Come, join me. You too,

Jesse; and your sons.

The first, Eliab,

came before him. Surely he

is God’s anointed!

But no; for God looks

not upon a man’s stature,

but upon his heart.

In all, seven sons

are brought before Samuel.

Is there another?

The youngest, David,

is with the sheep. Send for him,

we’ll wait ‘til he comes.

The lad was ruddy.

Take your oil and anoint him;

he’s the one, says God.

© Ken Rookes 2023 

But what of the Poor?

Haiku of poured-out love

Ah, Lord Jesus,

how to show my love for you,

what to make it real?

The very costly

ointment of nard spills over

his face and his hair

Splashed with abandon

in a profound act of love.

A perfumed present.

Loving is costly.

Effort, commitment, struggle;

also many tears.

But what of the poor?

Yes, of course, we all must spend

love upon them, too.

This woman has done

something beautiful for me;

for my burial.

Will I love this way,

with my naked heart exposed,

accepting the pain?

© Ken Rookes 2020

Posting for Palm Sunday, Narrative Lectionary;  Mark's version of the Anointing at Bethany