Nearing the finish

Haiku of goodbye

Nearing the finish

Jesus dines at Bethany

with his dearest friends.

They make him welcome;

Martha, Lazarus, Mary.

A fellowship meal.

A pound of pure nard,

costly perfume; Mary spills

it over his feet.

Fragrance fills the air.

Mary touches feet with love,

wipes them with her hair.

There are objections.

This perfume could have been sold;

money for the poor!

Jesus agrees, It

could have been sold for the poor;

but it’s not wasted.

A gift for my death,

my burial. It comes soon;

do not chastise her.

The poor will remain

to test your loving. But I

won’t always be here.

© Ken Rookes

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

Bethany friends

Haiku of love

His Bethany friends

make him most welcome; again.

Jesus is grateful.

Brother Lazarus

reclined at table with him

Martha is serving.

Mary! Ah, Mary.

What are you about to do

to demonstrate love?

Mary comes, bringing

a pound of costly perfume;

pours it on his feet.

The fragrance lingers,

along with indignation:

What outrageous waste!

Such extravagance

and squander! T’was better sold

and spent on the poor.

Returning her love,

Jesus speaks to defend her;

She has done no wrong!

This beautiful gift,

images her love for me;

soon I will be gone.

The poor will remain

to provide new occasions

to demonstrate love.

Gather what remains,

save it for my burial;

it comes soon enough.

© Ken Rookes 2019

An alabaster jar

As is their wont, the Pharisees grumble

at the wastefulness of a woman;

who, in this story of beauty and grace,

spills her precious ointment upon Jesus' feet.

They also grumble

at the wastefulness of the anointed one,

who, in his larger story of grace and beauty

pours love upon the undeserving.

Forgiveness and love, spilled with abandon;

this is the message of his living.

Consider this;

you who are wont to grumble.

© Ken Rookes 2016

Tepid hospitality

Turning away from the righteous Pharisee
he looked with love
upon the subject of his host’s derision.
The unnamed woman knew her place,
and had knowingly disregarded all the conventions,
upsetting more than a jar of ointment.
The consensus was clear: this woman
did not fit in with polite company.
She belonged out there,
in the shadowed places,
where ambiguities abound
and sinners lead their anxious lives.
Not in here, where the well-mannered Simon
extends his tepid hospitality
to this latest sensation,
the wandering teacher from the provinces;
he, at least, had an invitation.
With his feet still wet from ointment and tears,
the man speaks softly of warm forgiveness,
of welcome, gratitude, love and peace.
He does not care for the cold and calculating rules
by which respectable society is ordered;
and outrageously says so.


© Ken Rookes 2013

One who loves much

The righteous ones,
offended by her
very presence;
call her sinner,
whore, temptress,
seducer,
promiscuous,
unmarried mother,
unemployed,
dole bludger,
drunkard,
irresponsible,
druggie.
Unoffended
by her intimate
caress;
Jesus calls her
woman,
friend,
forgiven,
one who
loves much.
And God smiles.



© Ken Rookes

And wiped them with her hair

Mary of Bethany,
sister of Martha the industrious
and Lazarus the once dead.
How she loved him,
yearning in silence
having determined to be content
with the sound of his words
uttered in company.
He was unlike any other.
Had convention permitted,
she would gladly have left her siblings
to join his itinerant band; perhaps then
she might steal a few minutes of him
for herself. Was that being selfish?
Never fully understanding herself
and driven by something deeper than desire
she resolved to claim her few minutes
Flouting convention, common-sense
and good manners, Mary went in to her beloved
where he sat at the table,
taking a bottle of fragrant perfume
along with her heart.
The former she poured with extravagance
over her beloved’s feet.
With her hair, her hands.
and the same breaking heart
she wiped her beloved’s feet,
and wept for love.

© Ken Rookes