Sunday, May 27, 2018



A Poem a Sunday
Pentecost 2 – B
June 3, 2018


 St. Mark 2:23-3:6 - NRSV

Pronouncement about the Sabbath

23 One Sabbath he was going through the grain fields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. 24 The Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?” 25 And he said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? 26 He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions.” 27 Then he said to them, “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath; 28 so the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath.”

The Man with a Withered Hand

3 Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. 2 They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse him. 3 And he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come forward.” 4 Then he said to them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. 5 He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. 6 The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

A Poem a Sunday
Pentecost 2 – B

Beyond the Rubicon

Passing the Sabbath
Rubicon
shriveled hands healed
reveal shriveled hearts.

No turning back
once the river
is crossed
forever broken
lines fencing in
the lost.

No longer
sides:
‘Yours’ & ‘Mine.’

No longer
boundaries
with walls
that define.

No, now
we’re drawn
to meet
the Other

and washed
in the Rubicon
we begin to
see one another.

Beyond shriveled hands
and healed hearts
we begin to be woven
into a Divine tapestry of art.

There is no return,
no turning back
once in that ancient Synagogue
Christ began to act.

Copyright 2018 @ A Poem a Sunday by Kenn Storck
May be used with permission
kennstorck@gmail.com

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