May 27, 2021
If you’ve ever read St Paul’s Letter to the Romans, in particular Chapter 9, and have understood what St Paul is saying there, you will have been shocked. It makes perfect sense to the reason; it does not defy or run contrary to our innate human logical sense; but all the same the sense of the words comprise ‘a hard saying’ for any person having a general care for humankind, and who has hope for us all a better place hereafter…..
It is the logic of The Law
The rigour of The Old Dispensation
It is iterated in The Pentateuch,
In The Prophetic Books
Though the exact conception never passes Jesus’ lips..?
A logic passing like a knife, slicing the heart it rips
Pharaoh’s a puppet, raised only to fall,
Under the bus in the last act in a Music Hall
He cannot do but what his lot demands him
A vessel made to wrath
Sink not, nor pity, love is just - grammercy...
Thought must prevail, be clear and ultra sound...
What posture should I use to whom I see as doomed?
Can I refrain from tagging scoffing rakes to hell?
Am I a Christian? being so conformable.
The dark corridors to which a human must not go
Answering calls are God’s on pre-set party lines
Delving a lucky dip of jaws and teeth; in fine
Backing in a corner, to the wall, iniquity
Being an Evil Hammer, by force of Infinity
The lectors who sew and brew and boldly codify,
Setting in order; quarter straits on winds that blow
Whence from, where to, only The Spirit follows, knows;
By placing of Grace in frangible, effectually dead hands
Something for human understanding basic, satisfying,
Ingénues offer ideal eyes and lights, do prophesy
Those pristine pearls of Christ took tarnish; look upon
The waning of the aura of His opulent persona
(Dazzling Embezzler of dearest hardihoods of men,
A Marvellous Aviator into ether had ascended)
Had left the world to us; ourselves the worldly,
That entered even into scriptures, some do say,
(Which ‘out of time’ were written, made by ardent satellites)
A falling-off; and who, set next to Christ, can criticise
Those acolytes who keenly stoke some regimen?
Even His worldly Presence could not, cannot be, endured
Some shifts to salve us need be - even the didache
Resorted under shelters from His batteries of kind
Rebuking love gunning with words chrysostome.
We run for succour to ‘The Old Adam’, our absorbent fender
Nor cannot suffer too much sempiternal verity
The devil is a learned angel, deep in book lore
Whereby he gets his wiles and fortifies his looms
Winds tangles out of angles to a certitude and back,
Studding cut-gem bon mots in turns and sleights of hand.
Oh, what a spinner; Oh, watch The Adversary dance!
The centre of settled goodness is a place for evil;
Makes entry in; a sidling unobtrusive visit
Smoothing-off ruffles, interposing casual suggestion
Softening resolve by fawning seminal seductions;
“Yours is the voice of God; unlock, deliver, unctions.”
But eidolons, and God, perhaps, are indecipherable?
Mystery His dinner, slippers, pipe and tea,
That only the eglantine and ivy know of it,
And men go send to Jesus for a working likeness
Where what you get is quite precisely what you see.
Indescribable, unfathomable, behovely gracious
In extremis; so much baffling, large-attraction-rich,
Compassionate gentle graces waken you at every word
The Finer, The Fuller, permits our unease run condemning
Reckoning up the bill we owe, which He defraying
Cannot, I’m praying, ask that any waste be scattered
Of blood and water, spirit, sacrifice
On thorny ground where tares absorb, and gathered latter
Days, are heaped, and thrown into Gehenna -
Faustus one drop his soul cried out for – mercy mother!
Nor never does Jesus Christ use closed-ends formulations
His gospels refuse all set-in-stone divisions, destinations,
Words spill from Paschal lips sublime, solicitous, irenic;
We all, it seems, are sweet invited; both blighted and serene,
Gentile and Jew, accrue to universal fellowship