Poetry

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If I were to put my feet,
into the sandals of the listeners,
the first audience for these stories,
I can imagine the response,
why they are called parables perhaps
explained by the response they would make.
“But, we wouldn’t do that.” Emphatically,
we wouldn’t leave our flock out in the wilderness,
no that wouldn’t be prudent at all,
we would husband our resources,
be good stewards of
the ninety-nine who remain
We couldn’t go out there, into the unknown
to find the hundredth, the lost sheep
What would happen to the rest, the loyal ones,
living by the law, the prophets even,
living by Exodus, Leviticus, by the Numbers.
Oh we wouldn’t go out there. We wouldn’t waste
money to find money, to burn our oil
to find the one coin. We would watch what we had
more closely, save out money, invest perhaps;
but oh we would not waste so.
And there is the point, the closed ears, the slow feet
stuck in place, missing the point of the parables,
that God’s energy, his compassion, his love
for each one of us is so strong,
each is worth searching for
must be found, whatever the cost

September 15, 2007 20:55
Luke 15:1-10

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