Let them follow me.

Haiku for disciples

The ominous road
calls him to Jerusalem,
paved with suffering.

The elders and scribes,
along with the Pharisees;
they will have their day.

And he will be killed.
Don’t say such things, said Peter.
This must not happen!

Move away, Peter.
Your concerns are human things;
they don’t come from God.

Jesus called his friends;
Be one of my followers,
carrying your cross.

In saving your life
you’ll lose it. Lose it for me;
and you will find it.

This is paradox.
Embrace its absurdity
and find your true life.

 

© Ken Rookes 2017

Advertisements

But who do you say that I am?

Haiku for answering.

What do people say,
Jesus asked his followers;
Who’s the Son of Man?

Some say John the B,
Elijah, Jeremiah,
or other prophet.

Fair enough, he said.
But you mob, what do you say?
Tell me, who am I?

Simon Peter said,
You are the Christ, Messiah;
the living God’s Son.

Good answer, Peter!
This insight is not your own,
it’s from God above.

My good man, Rocky,
I’ll build my church upon you;
you’ll hold heaven’s keys.

What you bind on earth
will be so bound in heaven.
What you loose, as well.

And, by the way, guys,
that thing about Messiah;
keep it to yourselves.

 

© Ken Rookes 2017

He came, walking towards them.

Haiku for those who sink.

He sent them ahead
by boat, to the other side.
The crowd was dismissed

Seeking solitude,
he ascended the mountain
to pray and reflect.

Out upon the lake
his friends battled wind and waves,
a long way from home.

In this strange story
he came ghost-like at morning,
caused them much alarm.

The reports tell us
that he walked across the lake.
Fear not! It is I!

Stranger still, a man
steps from the boat to join him;
does all right; at first.

Beginning to sink,
he cries in fear: Lord, save me!
Jesus takes his hand.

Is this an image
of baptism, of drowning
and rising to life?

Like the little boat
we are battered by the waves,
far from land and hope.

The waves engulf us;
We are fearful and we doubt.
Jesus, take our hand!

 

© Ken Rookes 2017

When Jesus calls.

Haiku for taking a chance

With John arrested
Jesus withdraws, goes back home;
north, to Galilee.

He leaves Nazareth
and moves to Capernaum.
There he makes his home.

What the prophet said
is about to be fulfilled;
great light has dawned.

Commencing his work,
he begins to preach. “Repent,
the kingdom comes near.”

Walking by the sea
he sees Andrew and Simon
casting out their nets.

He calls the brothers,
“Come and follow, learn from me;
we’ll fish for people.”

Best offer all day!
The fishers laugh, choose the risk,
leave behind their nets.

Further down the shore
He comes across more brothers,
sons of Zebedee.

In their father’s boat,
Sons of Thunder, James and John,
also get the call.

In a flash, the pair
stop, weigh their options, and leave
dad to mend the nets.

 

© Ken Rookes 2017

Do you love me?

The evangelist writes as if for the theatre,
scenes that have been re-enacted
by countless ecclesiastical ensembles for millennia.
In the final act of his disturbing drama
the lead character returns unexpectedly to centre stage
and is brought face to face with a once-trusted friend.
One who famously abandoned him
at a time of desperate need.

We, who also know the bitter taste of failure,
squirm awkwardly with the fisherman
as his master invites him, three times,
to reaffirm his devotion.
The brash confidence of previous boasts
has been supplanted by the shame
of his pre-dawn denials.
Self-assured words no longer come readily
to his lips.

Jesus is gracious, accepting;
he does not chastise.
There is work to be done,
there are journeys to be completed,
there are sheep to be tended;
failures, too, are needed.

 

© Ken Rookes 2016

Divine things

All around us,
divine things;
elusive butterflies of different hues
catching the light and reflecting it
in rainbow colours, flashing
as they flap their delicate wings.
From shade into brightness
and back into the shadows they flutter;
intermittently visible,
persistently present, fragile.

Tears and generosity,
humility, sacrifice, and discomforting truth,
these things; born out of love,
and vulnerable. Like god.
They dance, unconstrained,
through the dappled sunlight,
precariously present.
Divine things,
all around us, (and within);
keep your eyes upon them.

 

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

The Keys of the Kingdom

The keys of the kingdom have been lost.
We know that Peter had them,
but he swears that he hasn’t seen them
for a long while.
Rumour has it they ended up in Rome.

There’s been quite a succession
of claimants to the role of custodian,
but some of us aren’t convinced
that any of them really knew
where the keys were.

Traditionally they hung from a ring
on the keeper’s belt. In recent times
they were apparently stored away,
and brought out on ceremonial occasions
with incense, robes and choirs.

Big and bronze, the keys clinked and rattled,
but were mostly only used
to regulate and control.
They did that effectively enough;
until recently.

They’re gone; not much doubt.
Doesn’t matter though,
and there isn’t any real point
prolonging the search; it’s widely thought
that the locks have all been broken

for some time, now.

© Ken Rookes 2014