Entering Jericho

Haiku for grumblers

Mr Zacchaeus,

short of stature, short of friends

wants to get a view.

Zac is wealthy, but

a tax collector by trade,

not well respected.

Jesus is coming,

passing through Jericho town.,

so Zac climbs a tree.

(This is a great yarn!)

Jesus comes by, sees the man,

Friend Zac, come on down!

I’m needing somewhere

to dine and to sleep tonight;

your place will do fine.

All the good people

begin to grumble: he goes

as a sinner’s guest!

The act of welcome

brings existential crisis:

Half my wealth I give!

The lost has been found,

sinful Zac belongs to God!

Clever move, Jesus!

© Ken Rookes 2019

Who will be the greatest?

Haiku for the competitive

Speaking quietly

Jesus taught his disciples

the things that must be.

Of the Son of Man

he spoke, about betrayal,

and untimely death.

It won’t be the end.

After three days he will rise.

They don’t understand.

They were arguing:

which of us is the greatest?

He made them ashamed.

Would you be the first?

Then you must become the last,

serving your comrades.

He placed a small child

in the middle of the group;

took it in his arms.

Welcoming children

is the thing you are to do;

so you welcome me.

When you welcome me

you welcome God; and take part

in God’s own being.

© Ken Rookes 2018

None of these will lose their reward

Haiku for disciples

Welcoming others,

showing hospitality,

it's what Jesus wants.

When you are welcomed,

Jesus is made welcome too,

and God who sent him.

As you show welcome

to the small and lowly ones

you are rewarded.

As you invite them

to come under your welcome,

so you will be blessed.

Cups of cold water

given to these little ones

won't go unnoticed.

Hospitality:

a forgotten eastern art,

much undervalued.

Generosity –

a function of the kingdom.

That, along with love.

© Ken Rookes 2017

When the lost are found

Haiku of welcome and celebration

He welcomes sinners,

this fellow, and eats with them.

He must be a fraud.

As was Jesus' wont,

he told them all a story;

driving home his point.

Of his hundred sheep

the shepherd finds one missing,

goes to search for it.

A second story:

a woman loses a coin,

searches high and low.

When the lost are found

there is a great rejoicing;

also in heaven.

The small and the lost,

these, too, are valued by God;

and much loved also.

© Ken Rookes 2016

Martha and Mary

Four Haiku

Martha and Mary

once had Jesus to dinner.

They made him welcome.

In the kitchen's heat

Martha worked hard, worrying;

all must be perfect.

Mary, listening,

sits at Jesus' feet, eager,

dining on his words.

Jesus loves them both;

but, called upon, says Mary

made the better choice.

© Ken Rookes 2016

See, I am sending you.

A cluster of haiku

As lambs among wolves,

so, my friends, I send you out:

bearers of good news.

Pronounce God's shalom.

The blessing will find a home

in children of peace.

As they welcome you

those people, too, will be blessed;

God's reign coming near.

Not all will listen,

some will not see the kingdom.

Still, it has come near.

© Ken Rookes 2016

Welcoming has implications!

Jesus spoke of welcoming prophets and they have been some of the most unwelcome people in society through the centuries. It is the role of prophets to point out to people how they have strayed from God’s way and to call them back into relationship with God. Most people who are comfortable where they are, simply do not want to hear that they are on the wrong path and ignore the prophets or try to discredit or destroy them. Do we welcome the news about climate change and what we need to do to halt it? Do we welcome news about how our government is treating the strangers who come to our shores looking for help. Are we willing to welcome more people to share our land? Do we welcome the news that the Muslim people of Bendigo wish to build a place where they can worship the God of Abraham?

As Jesus implies, welcoming has implications. Welcoming Jesus means you are also welcoming the one who sent Jesus. Welcoming prophets and righteous people will bring the appropriate reward. A favourite hymn these days is “I the Lord of sea and sky.” It is usually sung lustily, especially the chorus where the words say, “I will go Lord, if you need me. I will hold your people in my heart.” In other worlds, we are saying that we will welcome God’s people into the most intimate part of our lives and love them. But God’s people, perhaps surprisingly, can be prickly and hard to welcome, sometimes ungrateful for our efforts. Are we prepared to go on welcoming them into our homes and hearts?

Sometimes when we are unwelcoming of thoughts like doubts, they seem to multiple on our doorsteps to trip us up when we are least expecting it. Soon you will be welcoming a new minister. Have you ever noticed the clause in the induction service which asks the people of the congregation if they will welcome the minister into their home.

 God is welcoming of us into close relationship. Jesus welcomed sinners and drunkards. When we able to be welcoming to all who come, even with a glass of water, we will be truly rewarded, even if it may be in the most surprising ways.

Rev Julianne Parker

Full sermon on sermon page

Standing far off

 

Standing alone
while the good people pray out loud;
aching with the deep sadness of one
whose life lacks the easy handles
of the uncomplicated
and comfortably righteous.
Standing separate
in the unfashionable garb of the outsider,
with head scarf and turban
as the indelible red stamp
inviting the special treatment
of those who are different.
Standing in isolation
in the designated space
in the appointed queue,
watching as doors are opened
for a moment
and shut again, tightly.
Standing apart,
yearning to belong,
waiting for the word, crying:
Lord, have mercy!

© Ken Rookes

Making Jesus welcome

Making Jesus Welcome

 

If Jesus came to your town,

would anybody care;
would the people gather in the park
and listen to him there?

If Jesus came to your street

would you come outside and see?
Would you talk with his disciples
and invite them ‘round for tea.
 

If Jesus came to your house

would you get out the good plates;
would you let him know he’s special
and that you want to be his mate.
 
Would you recognise his homelessness
and offer him a bed,
(along with all his homeless mates),
and hear the things he said?
 
If Jesus came to dinner
would you grab a mop and broom,
for to make a good impression;
and to tidy up the room?
 
Would you smile and make him welcome
knowing he’ll be gone next day;
or would you take his message deep inside
and invite him there to stay?
 

© Ken Rookes

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

Welcome-home party

An errant & disrespectful son,
(been there, done that);
dissolute living – code
for wine, women and song;
a robe, a ring and a fatted calf;
music and dancing
and a pissed-off older brother:
Jesus knew how to put a yarn together

The older brother was deserving
in the way that the younger one wasn’t.
Worked hard, did what was expected,
never questioned his father’s judgement;
until the outrageous welcome-home party.
The old man couldn’t even wait for the sun to set;
didn’t think to send out to the field
with instructions to knock-off early.

Like the father in the story, who pines
for his lost son, God, they say,
is forgiving and generous to a fault.
Which may be true, but it misses the point.
It’s the older brother, and the rest of us,
unable to rejoice at grace shown to someone
who might be less deserving than us;
we are the point.

Jesus never wasted a parable.

© Ken Rookes 2013

Back then

Dates and times are vague

in the story of Ruth;

in the days that the judges ruled

there was a famine in the land.

That is all we are told, but it is enough.

How old were Mahlon and Chilion

when they took local Moabite girls,

Orpah and Ruth, to be their brides?

Old enough to take on the responsibilities

of wife and family. And how old

were the girls? The usual age;

pubescent, most likely.

And how old would they have been

when they were widowed?

Ten years older, we are told,

but that may be an exaggeration

since neither of them had yet produced a child.

So it is, at least according to the story,

that thrice-bereft Naomi packs up her tragedy

and returns with her young daughter-in-law

to her home town and country.

There she must trust; both in God

and in the generosity of her wider family.

Ruth, a young woman who is presumably

not yet past her mid-twenties,

will, for all time, become the standard

for loyalty and devotion;

not bad for a foreign widow.

© Ken Rookes

Remembering Neil Postman

Childhood was created

when we stopped sending children

down mines, up chimneys,

into factories and out to the fields.

From this imprecise point

children began to be valued for who they are,

and to be protected and educated.

Quite right, too.

It was not, is not the case everywhere.

In some places childhood ends,

at least for girl-children,

with marriage, and its upshot,

motherhood..

So it was for the mid-teens Mary

from Nazareth, two thousand years ago;

and countless others.

Childhood contracts and shrivels,

threatening to disappear

as innocence is torn away.

The secrets of adulthood,

once wrapped in safe brown paper,

lie rude and exposed,

as children are devalued,

sacrificed and cast aside.

Childhood’s beauty is painted over,

and trained to perform before judges;

while digital technology offers

a thousand doorways to a sad adulthood.

Toddlers with cigarettes; children

who know how to calculate the odds.

Let the children come to me,

a carpenter-teacher once said.

Let them climb; let them rise above

all that would limit and deny,

and discover holy childhood life.





Neil Postman (1931-2003) wrote The Disappearance of Childhood, published in 1982.



© Ken Rookes 2012

The Prophet makes the strangers welcome

Etching and aquatint 2011.

Part of The Prophet Series of Intaglio prints.
Other images can be viewed at www.kenrookes.com.au

Go to Print Gallery

The prophet makes the strangers welcome

Ken Rookes © 2011

Etching and aquatint

Posted in response to events of recent days.
Thank you, High Court of Australia, for lessening our shame.

Come down, Zacchaeus

Come down, Zacchaeus

The crowd offered no help

to the short-in-stature man, whose face

confirmed their initial impression

that this was one Zacchaeus, chief

among the ratbag tax collectors.

The tree was a sycamore;

its gnarled and twisted branches

offering a convenient means of elevation

enabling the man to rise above his dilemma

and successfully view the teacher,

whose reputation had travelled ahead of him,

all the way to Jericho.

Perhaps the Zac-man’s reputation

had also preceded him. Who can say?

When the teacher looked through the shadowed

leaves and branches he saw the face

of the climbing man, and called him down

with an unexpected invitation.

Hospitality is extended and accepted,

much to the grumbling derision

of the good religious people,

who could offer only sneering observations

about who one should choose as friends.

The teacher laughs them off, captive

to a larger vision of divine friendship.

Unsettled by such disturbing grace,

sinner Zacchaeus offers compensation

and justice to any he has defrauded; a sure sign

that the gospel has been truly proclaimed

and the kingdom has indeed come near.



© Ken Rookes 2010