Greetje: New page: {{info}}Rufina's oldest son despised
Her faith. At sixteen all he prized
Was what would make him great, he thought,
Like land and power. All she taught
Him seemed a loss, and a...

Greetje — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 20:17:42 GMT

New page: {{info}}Rufina's oldest son despised Her faith. At sixteen all he prized Was what would make him great, he thought, Like land and power. All she taught Him seemed a loss, and a...

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{{info}}Rufina's oldest son despised Her faith. At sixteen all he prized Was what would make him great, he thought, Like land and power. All she taught Him seemed a loss, and all her prayers A waste. He'd stand beneath the stairs At synagogue each week and hear Them pray: "Cyrene is not dear To us like Zion's holy hill, And after centuries, we still Can dream that some day when, O Lord, You come, we will, with one accord, Go up from Africa, and stand With you upon the Promised Land Where you are Lord of all, alone, And we, with joy, before your throne. Cyrene is not Jesse's Stem, Nor is this place Jerusalem. If I desire this vanity, Cut out my eye that I might see." 

And every week the boy would smirk, and say beneath his breath: "This quirk Of Jewish piety is for The weak. Why should I play the poor, And bow before another's throne Someday, when I can have my own? Perhaps an African can show These scraping refugees to go Up to the Promised Land, and take It any way they can, and make A name there for themselves, instead Of slavish dreams about some dread And awful messianic king."

The night he ran away, a string Around his sack swung down and woke His brother Malchus. "This a joke?" He whispered, so he wouldn't wake His brother Lucius. "No. And take Care, little man. Perhaps we'll meet Some day. And when we do, my feet Will stand on my own land, and this Black back will bend for no man's bliss But mine." "Please, Simon, don't go 'way; I know Mom will be sad. Please stay." "Our mother trusts in God. If she Should weep, and ever want to see My face again, then maybe her Messiah will come down and stir Himself to locate my estate In Palestine, and nominate Me for some lofty ministry In his dominion there, and she Can come back to the Promised Land With all the whimp'ring exile band, And see what great assignment he Has laid aside and given me." "Then, Simon, I will pray for you." "Look, Malchus, here's a lesson: Do, Don't pray. And work, don't wait. Two feet, Two hands, two eyes, I am complete. You need not pray for me. Farewell."

Before the year was out, the spell Of freedom fell on Lucius, then On Malchus; and they left. Again, And then again a thousand times Rufina wept and prayed: "The times, The places and the peoples in The whole wide world, O God, begin And end with your design. And great With mercy is your mind. No fate Or fortune rules the earth, nor hate, Nor apathy. But all the weight Of ev'ry motion in the earth And sky is in your hands, from birth To death, the life of ev'ry man — And boy. None ever runs or ran So fast or far that he could leave Your eye. And so, great God, I cleave To you alone. The Stoics sense The magnitude of Providence, But do not know your name. But I Proclaim: the hand that rules the sky And all the earth, belongs to Christ! For me the prophets have sufficed To demonstrate his pow'r. And so I pray, O God, that you would go, And find my boys, where they are lost And make their paths by his be crossed."

And so it came to pass that, in A space of twenty years, the skin Of Simon's face was known throughout The hills of Judah. "Niger" was the tout And name of this dark prodigy: The "dark one" with a foreign key To every piece of land he set His eye to own. "I see, I get," He used to say. And it was true, Of treasured fields, and women too. He never married, but he bore Two sons, and smuggled them to Dor Beside the sea and sold them to A Jewish pilgrim passing through Who lived in Rome. The pious folk Would tremble when he spoke About the Christ: "I own more lots Within the Promised Land, and plots Around Jerusalem than I Can count. And so I think that, by My reckoning, Messiah will Be forced to ask that I should fill Some need in his great strategy To plant his kingdom here."

And he Would watch pretenders come and go, Like Theudas. With a single blow The Romans blasted all his men. They did the same to Judas, then Purged Galilee of all his wild And crazy followers, exiled The old, and killed the young. The dark One, Simon Niger, watched, to mark Each monied casualty; then he Moved in, and gathered up, at three Times cheaper than their worth, the trees And farms from frightened families.

And so it went for years, until The man named Jesus claimed to fill The promises, but had no sword, Or fighting forces — like a Lord Without a minion. Simon laughed Out loud: "Does he think he will draft A following with messages About the birds? And when he says, That we must sell our land and be As lowly as a child, does he Believe that anyone will come? The man must be insane. One crumb Of common sense would see that no One, rich or poor, would rise, and go Behind a vagabond who's got No place to lay his head. There's not A beggar's chance that anyone With property, like me, would run Behind a fool who says that wealth Can choke you like a thorn, and health Of soul does not consist in what You have, and purse strings should be cut, And hard-earned cash just given to The poor, and everything that you Forsake will somehow bless you more. I even heard him say, the door To life is death, and that the price Of seeing him in paradise Is that we bear a bloody cross With him, and count it gain not loss. The man's insane."

But soon the wheel Of Providence (unwearied seal Of distant prayer) turned on its bolt. That Friday looked like a revolt, As Simon came in from the farm Where he had spent the night. Alarm Was in the air, and people ran And whispered. Simon stopped a man And asked him, "What's all this?" He said, "The Nazarene will soon be dead. They took him yesterday without A fight, and now there's not a doubt That he'll be crucified today. All night the courts have met. They say That even Herod gave the nod. They beat him with the scourge and rod, And crowds are crying, Crucify! Come! Just beyond that hill nearby Is where they do this stuff. It's called The Skull." But Simon froze, appalled. "How can they crucify a meek And harmless fool? Why do they seek The gibbet for a clown? As though A child might rise and overthrow The empire." Simon had to know. And so he took the ridge along The Hinnom vale and through a throng Of peasants pushed his way up to A line of soldiers. Then, "Hey, you!" A black Centurion again Called out, "You there, dark one!" The men Around him shouldered Simon to The bloody street and pushed him through The barricade. And there he saw The harmless criminal, like raw And butchered meat bent down on hands And knees, and heaving while the strands Of matted, crimson hair hung ‘round His face while he stared at the ground. "Get down and lift this cross. I'm sure Messiah will be pleased that you're Well-dressed for such a ministry. It isn't every day, you see, That you can serve a king. Now take It up, dark man, and for the sake Of messianic pride you stay Behind and follow him. They say That this was his command. You see, He triumphs on his bloody knee." He prodded Jesus with his sword, And, silent as a lamb, the Lord Of glory stood, and walked outside Jerusalem. And there beside The road, with sleepless, weeping eyes, Was Malchus like a living prize Of war. Just then a thud, and groan And Simon lay with broken bone Beneath the cross where it had crushed His hand. The Roman soldier flushed With rage and screamed, "Get up, you ape! Do you think groans are worth escape From what the Crown has bidden you To do? Get up!" His whip cut through The air, and severed Simon's eye In half. And when he heard the cry He drew his sword. "I'll carry it!" The voice was Malchus', and he fit The cross around his neck and bore It up the hill. And there, before The Lord, with reverence, he lay It down, then stood, and walked away, Back down the hill where Simon cried With pain and fear and shame, and tried To keep the blood inside his eye. He knelt Beside the wealthy African and felt The broken bone. "I think this was A wish, come true, don't you? What does A sovereign God more have to do Than break your bone, to waken you, And blind your eye, that you may see? Did not you always want to be A chief and have a place of state, And hope that God would nominate You for some lofty ministry In his dominion? Look and see, What great assignment Christ should lay Aside and give for you today."

He turned his bloody face to see The voice that spoke, and quietly They stared until the decades fell. "Are you my brother Malchus? Tell Me truthfully." "I am." "How did You find me here? You were a kid. How did you know that it was I?" "I prayed for you last night that, high Above the ways of man, some wheel Of Providence would let me heal Your eyes the way Christ healed my ear." And then he bowed and put his hand Upon his brother's eye, and said, "O land, You have been broken now, and lost Your pow'r to blind. And ev'ry cost Is paid for Simon's sight. Come, Lord Of light, and let it be restored." And Simon whispered through his tears From deep within the hidden years, "If I desire this vanity, Cut out my eye that I might see."

The truth of advent candle two Is that our God is never through With wonders of his power and grace, Nor ever blocked by time or place. But wheels are turning everywhere To open eyes and answer prayer.

The Cyrenian Cycle: Simon of Cyrene - Revision history

Greetje: New page: {{info}}Rufina's oldest son despisedHer faith. At sixteen all he prizedWas what would make him great, he thought,Like land and power. All she taughtHim seemed a loss, and a...

Greetje: New page: {{info}}Rufina's oldest son despised
Her faith. At sixteen all he prized
Was what would make him great, he thought,
Like land and power. All she taught
Him seemed a loss, and a...