Birth Stories

Haiku for underscoring

Luke tells his stories;

birth stories to underline

Jesus’ importance.

Righteous and devout,

Simeon had been promised

he would see the Christ.

Old man Simeon

came timely to the Temple,

led by the Spirit.

Met the family,

took the child, lifted his voice:

Let me go now, God.

You have promised me,

I have seen your salvation:

light and life for all.

This child is destined

to upset the privileged

and confront the smug.

There will be much pain.

Always there is pain when God’s

new order breaks through.

Anna, the prophet,

also very old, joins in,

to speak words of hope.

© Ken Rookes 2020

The old people sing

Haiku of fulfilment

Old people hang out

in churches and in temples;

watching and waiting.

Something might happen.

You never know, it might be

the day God appears.

Righteous and devout,

old Simeon was patient;

he would see the Christ.

His words erupted!

This child, he would be the one;

light and salvation!

The old man blessed them.

It is enough, I’ve seen him

Let me go now, God.

He spoke to Mary.

There will arise much turmoil

on the road to peace.

Anna, the prophet,

saw the child, raised her old voice,

and joined in the song.

Wisdom and insight

come not just with the years,

but with openness.

© Ken Rookes 2017.

Witnesses

Two formerly obscure old people

become Luke’s surprising choice

as his final witnesses

to the Messiah’s birth.

In his historically improbable

but still entrancingly wondrous

natal narrative, he retrospectively presents us

with the excited pronouncements

of an elderly man and an aging widow.

Salvation for Israel,

light and hope for the foreigners,

redemption for Jerusalem;

here, in this infant.

Imagine if a pair of old people stood up

to deliver such outrageous observations

in our own time.

There probably wouldn’t be a camera crew

on hand to record the event

or interview the key players;

it would be unlikely to make the papers.

At best, there might be a few smiling selfies

with the old people, the mother and child.

Some, no doubt, would end up online;

maybe with a paragraph in someone’s blog,

to be reposted by a handful of friends,

or shared with a link.

Most likely we’d offer a patronising wink or a smile

and shake our collective heads

before joining in the joking dismissal.

Let’s face it, the elderly

probably weren’t taken seriously back then,

either. No one else seemed to notice,

or bothered to remember;

only Luke.

© Ken Rookes 2014

Simeon’s dream

The Lord God has blessed me with the gift of years;

along with the gift of tears.

Do not presume that we old ones

desire mere comfort and quiet;

while I am permitted to stand upon the earth

I will seek God’s salvation,

the fulfilment of God’s outrageous promises.

I watch the children at their games with the hope

that their joyful dancing will never cease,

that their songs may echo through the hills,

even though civilizations collapse

and great buildings crumble.

I dream of truth,

and of justice blended with grace;

of prisoners restored, rejoicing, to their families.

I yearn for the day when soldiers

will return to their villages,

to take brides, beget children,

and plant olive trees.

I cry for the quiet dignity of the poor

in their hunger and desperation.

I pray for the generosity of spirit

which alone reveals the greatness of a nation.

You told me, God, that I would live to see

your Messiah. Today, in the temple,

there was a couple from the north,

with their new son,

come to make their offering.

The infant’s hand gripped my wrinkled finger;

I laughed, I wept, I shouted a blessing,

and then I gave him my dreams.

© Ken Rookes