Pool of healing

Haiku of entry

In Jerusalem,

by the sheep gate; Beth-zatha

a pool of healing.

Beside Beth-zatha

pool, many invalids lie,

blind, lame, paralysed.

 

 

Ill thirty-eight years.

Jesus asks his strange question:

Would you be made well?

When the angel stirs

the water, I am too slow;

others enter first.

Stand, take your mat. Walk!

The man was made well, and walked.

It was the sabbath.

Rules have been broken.

Love brings healing and wholeness.

Let’s keep breaking rules.

© Ken Rookes 2022

Incognito

 Haiku of the impudent answer

Jesus is in Tyre,

a coastal city up north

in Gentile country.

He is travelling

incognito, needs a break.

But the word gets out.

A woman finds him.

Her daughter is sick; she wants

Jesus to heal her.

The woman bows down

at his feet. She’s desperate,

begging him to help.

You’re not one of us.

I’ve been sent to feed the kids,

not to feed the dogs.

The woman insists,

impudent. Even the dogs

get to eat the scraps!

Jesus laughs out loud.

Quite right, great answer! Go home,

your daughter is healed.

Holiday over,

Jesus makes his way back home;

brings blessing and hope.

They were astounded.

At his hands the deaf and mute

find healing and life.

© Ken Rookes 2021

Escaping the crowds

 Haiku for a retreat

They have been busy;

the twelve he sent out to share

his life-giving news.

To the wilderness

they retreat, an empty place

where they can rest up.

The lake is their friend!

They sail in their little boat

away from the throng.

He has become known.

Recognition blocks the plan;

the crowds come seeking.

They are shepherd-less,

these sheep. He steps up to teach,

sharing the kingdom.

His fame goes ahead.

In Gennesaret the crowds

see him and gather.

They hope to be healed.

We all do. Come, Lord Jesus;

we, too, are broken.

© Ken Rookes 2021

Family

 Haiku for an errant son

A new sensation;

the crowds flock to see Jesus,

that they might be healed.

His family hears,

are disturbed by the reports:

He’s out of his mind!

The scribes say he has

a demon! But a house that’s©

divided can’t stand.

Before you enter

to plunder a strong man’s house,

first you must bind him.

When the Spirit moves

in ways you can’t understand,

don’t criticise.

Mum and the boys come

by; attempt to and sort him out,

to take him back home.

The family call

their son and brother: ‘Come out!’

But he stays inside.

‘Who is my mother,

my brothers?’ he asks the crowd?

You who do God’s will.

© Ken Rookes 2021

Whose authority

Haiku of astonishment

The unclean spirit:

a useful explanation

for much illnesses.

At Capernaum

he taught in the synagogue.

It was the Sabbath.

He taught and he healed.

The question on all lips: by

whose authority?

The unclean spirit

was noisy, challenging him.

Jesus rebuked him.

As the story goes

the spirit came out of him,

crying out loudly.

They were astounded

by Jesus and his teaching:

Where did this come from?

The news spread quickly:

Even the unclean spirits

do what he commands!

What authority?

That of the kingdom of God

of truth, grace and hope.

© Ken Rookes 2021

Breaking Rules

 

Breaking Rules

Haiku for getting sorted

.

He is dismissive

of ritual cleanliness

and its importance.

Consider your mouth:

What goes in does not defile,

rather, what comes out!

The Pharisees fume!

This teacher has no respect

for our traditions!

Forget traditions!

If they do not lead to life,

they are not from God.

Blind guides surround us;

servants of irrelevant

and failed religion.

The heart is the source

of evil acts; violence,

theft, abuse and greed.

Another story.

A Canaanite woman comes

pleading: Heal my girl.

Sorry, I can’t help.

Came for Israel’s lost sheep,

wasn’t sent for you.

But even the dogs

may eat of the scraps that fall

from the table’s edge.

Top answer! He said.

Great is your faith. It shall be

as you requested.

© Ken Rookes 2020

Dining

Haiku for the hungry

Seeking solitude,

he found a deserted place,

but the crowd followed.

Sometimes it’s too much,

we all need time for ourselves;

space to think and pray.

Seeing the people,

he was stirred with compassion,

reaching out to heal.

As the sun went down

his friends spoke: Send them away,

they need to buy food.

They need not depart,

I have fed their souls, we’ll find

food for bodies, too.

They brought it to him,

the five loaves and the two fish;

all the food they had.

That should do, he said.

as he blessed and broke the loaves.

They shared them around.

So many people,

so many ways to hunger;

Jesus feeds them all.

© Ken Rookes 2020

The word that brings life

Haiku of wholeness

He couldn’t escape.

The people recognised him;

the word spread, they came.

For the miracles

and the healings they gathered,

pleading, insistent.

Wherever he went

they came for the miracles,

more than for his words.

Jump a year or two,

he is no longer with them,

except in Spirit.

At the Lovely Gate

disciples Peter and John:

the lame man begs alms.

Following their Lord

they speak a healing word, pull

off a miracle.

Walking and leaping,

the healed man sang God’s praises.

They were all amazed.

Better than silver,

more valuable than gold;

God’s word that brings life.

© Ken Rookes 2020

Posted in response to the two bible readings from the Narrative Lectionary for the 3rd Sunday of Easter.

Surely we're not blind

Haiku for those who can see.

Who was the person

whose sin caused this man’s blindness?

Doesn’t work like that.

A miracle tale

as Jesus heals a blind man.

Much consternation!

The authorities

refuse to see the new thing

that God is doing.

Oppressive doctrine

is the cause of much blindness;

now, as it was then.

Blind authorities

still betray; they are captive

to lust and power.

Blindness all around.

We quite like this blissful state;

pretend innocence.

No, it wasn’t me;

I’ve not seen their suffering,

do not know their pain.

Surely we’re not blind!

If you were, you’d have no sin;

but your sin remains.

He comes seeking us;

the one who opens closed eyes.

Let us see, Jesus.

© Ken Rookes 2020

On the edges

Haiku of inclusion

On the edges of

Samaria, Galilee,

where nobody goes.

North of Jerus’lem

Jesus meets with outcast men,

unclean, unwanted.

Ten lepers approached.

Keeping their distance they cried,

Have mercy, Master!

Go and show yourselves,

to the priests; they will confirm

that you are made clean.

As they make their way

their skin becomes clean and new.

One man turns around.

The Samaritan

falls rejoicing at his feet.

Jesus, I thank you.

Were not ten made clean?

One, alone, comes praising God;

a Samaritan!

Another surprise;

the foreigner commended

as a man of faith.

© Ken Rookes 2019

Now that day was a Sabbath

Haiku by the pool.

In Jerusalem

many invalids, blind, lame,

wait beside the pool.

When the water stirs,

according to tradition,

healing is present.

Portico people

hoping for this lottery

to deliver life.

At the Sheep Gate pool

the lame man lies, unable

to enter in time.

Jesus came, asking

Do you want to be made well?

Did he need to ask?

Stand, he told the man,

Take your mat and take a walk.

That is what he did.

It was the Sabbath

when Jesus made the man well;

most reckless of him.

© Ken Rookes 2019

Healing and hope

Haiku for desperate people

On the other side

of the lake, a crowd gathered;,

eager for his word.

A desperate dad,

synagogue leader Jairus,

fell at Jesus’ feet.

Begs for his daughter,

She’s dying, come and touch her

with your healing hands.

A woman is there,

bleeding, unclean for twelve years;

doctors have not helped.

She comes quietly,

feeling shame at her illness;

touches his clothing.

Immediately

her flow of blood ends. What joy!

she knows she is healed.

He somehow feels it,

asks who it was who touched him

as the crowd presses.

In fear and trembling

she falls before him. Daughter,

be healed, go in peace.

He has been delayed;

reports are brought of the girl.

No point in coming.

She’s not dead, he says,

just sleeping. They scoff and laugh.

He goes to the house.

He takes the girls hand,

(She was all of twelve years old),

Little girl, get up!

What wonder is this?

He speaks and his words bring life;

this is the gospel!

© Ken Rookes 2018

Make him a wonder worker

Haiku for establishing credentials

Jesus the teacher

spoke of forgiveness and love;

the way to true life

Forget other stuff;

love and generosity

create peace and hope.

His words of promise

bring great joy to hungry hearts.

They make him welcome.

But words are one thing:

make him a wonder worker

to prove he is God.

In bed with fever,

Simon’s wife’s mother is ill;

Jesus makes her well.

They came that ev’ning,

the sick and the troubled ones;

all of the city.

Jesus had pity.

He looked on them with mercy,

healed and blessed them all.

On to other towns;

his words must be spread widely.

This is why he came.

Peace and grace abound;

God’s undistinguishing love

is for all people.

© Ken Rookes 2018.

What have you to do with us?

Haiku of authority

At Capernaum

he entered the synagogue,

and taught the people.

They were astounded

he spoke with authority;

most unusual.

A man most troubled,

(an unclean spirit, they said),

cried out in anguish.

His question was good:

What have you to do with us?

We wonder the same.

He does not answer.

Speaks firmly, commands silence,

casts the spirit out.

Now they are amazed.

His word has authority;

what’s its origin?

From where has he come?

The speculations mount up;

his fame increases.

© Ken Rookes 2018.

Even the dogs

Weary from the crowds,

he slipped across the border for a break.

A holiday with a few close friends,

up north among the foreigners.

Different people, culture, food.

Best of all, no one knows him here.

The woman's love

has grown achingly to despair;

such is her daughter's illness.

Her dormant hopes quicken

when she learns the identity

of the stranger from the south.

Disregarding his request for privacy,

she intrudes, insisting that he intervene

to heal her child.

His response disappoints.

Wrong race, wrong religion.

The man offers a domestic metaphor to justify

his lack of compassion.

Sorry, I can't help;

the food is for the children, not the dogs.

It takes our breath away.

Suddenly we hear the shrill, cheering voices

of the xenophobes, islamophobes, flag wearers,

shock jocks and opportunistic politicians.

But the story continues;

this foreign woman does not know her place.

She accepts the racial calumny,

but, with impertinence,

throws the image back at the teacher:

Yes, but even the dogs . . .

Even the dogs.

The woman, he concedes, is correct.

There are no boundaries to love

except the ones we fashion from our fears.

The man accepts his lesson with grace,

and setting aside his weariness,

offers her the crumb.

© Ken Rookes 2017

Even the dogs.

Linocut. 30 x 30 cm. Ken Rookes 2016 ©