We are but flesh, after all,
“A passing breeze that does not return,
As unreliable as a faulty bow.”
How then would we presume to
Put God to the test, “to vex the Holy One of Israel?”
To belittle His itinerate preacher, to question His credentials?
Would we also huddle on the sandy road through town,
Snickering at His uneducated, haughty claims?
Vying to bring His impudence down to size?
Would we tell that upstart to shake the dust from his feet
As he leaves? Would we sneer that He, so ordinary,
Dares to moralize and claim to heal and drive out evil?
Would we be amazed by Him, or He, by our lack of faith?
How hard it is to accept redemption packaged as one of us,
So human, so marvelously divine, calling us into communion.
How easily we slither into contempt for the prophet in his own country,
Failing to recognize the Godhead in His glory,
Failing to divine the holy in each other.
Yet no thunder claps, no sleet destroys the figs, nor hail the grapes,
God, “awaking as from sleep,” vindicates His covenant with Love
Clad as a hometown boy, someone’s brother, someone’s Son.