Lord,
In the midst of this ruthless world
we live in:
Help us bond with the disconsolate Naomi.
Hear our prayers for the homeward bound Orpah.
Bless today’s gleaning
so it is enough for our daily bread.
And may we never forget
our eternal kinsman-redeemer.
Amen.
8.11.2012
Like Father, Like Son (Family Tradition)
Exodus 16/John 6:1-15; 22-42
Just like His Dad did
in the wilderness,
Out of love and compassion
The Son fed the people.
And just like His Dad did
in the wilderness.
The food came out of nothing
and from nowhere.
In the wilderness,
The Father’s manna was only good
for the day.
And all that was left of the Son’s meal
were baskets of bones and crumbs.
And just like His Dad
The Son learned as well
Miracles don’t generate faith
They get requests for encores.
“More food!”
The Chosen complained.
“More miracles!”
The Gentiles pleaded.
So the holy kitchens shut their doors.
The Select wandered around
Searching for the Land of Milk and Honey.
And the World wonders about
the Bread which satisfies every hunger.
Just like His Dad did
in the wilderness,
Out of love and compassion
The Son fed the people.
And just like His Dad did
in the wilderness.
The food came out of nothing
and from nowhere.
In the wilderness,
The Father’s manna was only good
for the day.
And all that was left of the Son’s meal
were baskets of bones and crumbs.
And just like His Dad
The Son learned as well
Miracles don’t generate faith
They get requests for encores.
“More food!”
The Chosen complained.
“More miracles!”
The Gentiles pleaded.
So the holy kitchens shut their doors.
The Select wandered around
Searching for the Land of Milk and Honey.
And the World wonders about
the Bread which satisfies every hunger.
Ruth 3:5
All that thou sayest unto me I will do.
Ruth 3:5
The story's strange.
For once, God wasn't talking,
Busy with some sacrifice or slaughter
Somewhere else. No plague, cloud, gushing water,
Dream, omen, whirlwind. Just two women, walking
The dusty road from Moab to Judea,
One, the younger, having told the other
(Not her own, but her dead husband's mother)
That she would never leave her. But they flee a
Famine for what, at first, seems something worse:
To come as widows to a crowded city,
To men’s appraising stares, and women’s pity.
Ruth, the pagan, heard Naomi curse,
Cringed and scanned the sky. No fire or stone
Came crashing downward. They were on their own.
Catherine Tufariello’s No Angel
Ruth 3:5
The story's strange.
For once, God wasn't talking,
Busy with some sacrifice or slaughter
Somewhere else. No plague, cloud, gushing water,
Dream, omen, whirlwind. Just two women, walking
The dusty road from Moab to Judea,
One, the younger, having told the other
(Not her own, but her dead husband's mother)
That she would never leave her. But they flee a
Famine for what, at first, seems something worse:
To come as widows to a crowded city,
To men’s appraising stares, and women’s pity.
Ruth, the pagan, heard Naomi curse,
Cringed and scanned the sky. No fire or stone
Came crashing downward. They were on their own.
Catherine Tufariello’s No Angel
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