The Widow's Little Gift

The Widow's Little Gift

Luke 21

Karl Evans

Jesus made his long pilgrimage at last. It was to be the last long journey of his short but eventful life. Before making his way to Jerusalem, Jesus first traveled all over Galilee. He went down into the Decapolis.

Jesus wanted to go to Scythopolis. This Greek city had a major university. The people were skilled in critical thinking, and in debate. Jesus enjoyed discussions of theology, and politics, and reason, and life itself. Scythopolis would provide him with a great challenge. He never made it. Jesus did, however, take some rest and recreation. He moved easily around the tourist cities of Tyre and Sidon on the Mediterranean coast.

Jesus’ followers were most at home around the Sea of Galilee. Jesus seemed to enjoy spending most of his ministry there. This native of Nazareth knew and honored the traditions of the Hebrew people. One great tradition was that the greatest of the prophets would always come from the area of Galilee.

Now Jesus’ ministry was nearing its zenith. He led his small band down from the hill country of Galilee to the southern territories of Palestine. Jesus met Zacheus in Jericho and shared a meal with him. He had given Bartimaeus back his sight at the gate of Jericho. Now in the final passage of his pilgrimage, Jesus left Jericho to come up the long hill to Jerusalem.

In the holiest city of all Jesus now stood before the most holy building in all the world, the great temple of the Jews. Jesus’ eyes widened at its beauty and majesty. The temple no longer held much gold and precious stones. These were long since stolen by despotic rulers, invading mercenaries and unscrupulous priests.

The presence of the temple in Jerusalem spoke volumes of the theology and faith of the Jews. Its design reflected the sentiment of the Jewish people that their god, Yahweh, was the god of the entire universe.

Carved stones and hanging drapes covered the walls of the temple. Statuary and ornaments graced the gateways and door posts and walls. Temple workers embedded the many doors and columns and fixtures with emeralds and rubies.

Hundreds and sometimes thousands of people came into this beautiful scenario on a daily basis. The faithful came to make sacrifices and prayers. Scholars and students came to study the Torah. Questioners came to talk to the priests. Pilgrims came to visit this holiest of holy places. Tourists came to take in the sights. Some came for all these.

On this day, few had any sense the Son of God was teaching in the temple. Nearly everyone was looking to their own needs, or the realities of the crowds. Nothing special.

Marian came to the temple early. She knew nothing of the Messiah teaching in the temple. If she had known, she would have immediately struggled to touch him, or call out his name. She did not know. Rather, Marian came to the Temple to make her gift. She only cared about her God.

Some might say this was not an easy thing for Marian to do. Some would say Marian really had to force herself to give in this way. Some would say that, but it would not be true. Forcing herself to give was not in the way of Marian. Marian, the widow. Marian, the hard worker. Marian, the survivor.

Twelve long years ago Stalyk had died, leaving her alone in Jerusalem. It was quick and unexpected, his death. Since that sad day Marian made this trip, day after day after day. Every day. On the sabbath she carried a different load.

On the sabbath her visit to the temple was different, but she still made the trip. Good weather and bad, hot and cold. Once Marian had been married to Stalyk. They had a good home of their own. Now Marian, the widow, was married only to Yahweh, and the temple was their home.

It wasn't a long trip, only a few minutes, perhaps a mile. It was usually a pleasant walk even when she walked the hill in the heat of the day. On those days she shaded herself with the hood of her robe.

At first she had not noticed all the people along the route. After a few months she became more familiar with the people, and with the animals. She spoke to them as she passed and they came to expect her to walk by each day. Shopkeepers, beggars, children and others, like herself, just kept on keeping on.

Lately Marian simply walked, and kept walking. She always kept her mind on two things. First, she must be in the temple. Second, she must keep on keeping on and keeping on.

Stalyk had been a shoe maker, a sandal maker, a leather and wood worker by trade. He was quite good at making sandals. Many wealthy people came to him for sandals. Many poor came as well. Stalyk sold all he could make. These were good sandals. Stalyk made the sandals many different ways. Some were all of leather. Some had wood soles and leather straps. Some had cloth pads on the straps, or perhaps bits of metal or stone for decoration.

Sometimes the customers called on Stalyk to make harness for horses or donkeys. Sometimes, when he had time to spare, he made leather and wood shields for soldiers or guards. It was simple work for a good leather worker, and easy money. Stalyk would rather have just been making sandals.

Stalyk was a good man, a strong man. He should have lived a long time. It would have been a good life for Stalyk and Marian. Except for the fighting.

A street battle caught Stalyk between Roman soldiers and zealot guerilla fighters. He was killed just down the street from his home by a ricocheting Roman arrow.

When Stalyk died, Marian began her daily routine. She did what she must to survive as best she could in a world long before the coming of Equal Rights.

Long before women were released from being chattel -- some would say cattle -- status, life was not easy. Marian was forced to make her way in a hostile society. This society held a trap for widows and women driven out by their husbands. Many were forced to live the life of a prostitute or slave to survive. Not Marian. She was strong enough to stave off that degradation.

Marian had learned the sandal trade from Stalyk as they had worked together in the shop. Stalyk had learned from his father. Now Marian learned to cut and sew leather. She learned to work leather just right so it would be supple and soft to not rub blisters.

After Stalyk's death Marian carried on the business alone. Being a woman in the craft was difficult. The purchase of leather was perhaps the most frustrating portion. The leather sellers in the market expected any woman to be weak-willed and incapable of sharp trading. Sometimes the traders even refused to bargain with her for the top quality skins.

Some unethical entrepreneurs made a point of attempting to force the lesser quality of skin on Marian. Some demanded a premium price for their own shoddy material and handiwork. Marian could only smile at their greed and move to another trader.

Sometimes friends would give her bits and pieces of leather, wood or cloth to use. Most of her neighbors and relatives depended on her for their own sandal work. Those close to her often gave her a little extra, just to help her hang on. Marian never made much money.

Days passed into each other as she struggled to keep going. The passage of time meant little to Marian. Except for the sabbath, that is. On every day but the sabbath, Marian rose before dawn to make her little meals for the day. Marian usually had some bread, a little fish and meal. On some celebrative occasion she might share a chicken or a piece of lamb or mutton with a friend.

She spent the day at the market. Marian persistently showed her handmade sandals to potential customers. She took her knife and needles with her. Marian had good skill to make on-the-spot repairs for waiting customers. Someone eager to have their sandals repaired seemed to always appear at mealtime. Her skill and willingness to work were a lifesaver. The footwear was all that stood between tender feet and burning sand and rough stone of Jerusalem streets.

Most of Marian's customers paid her in the time-honored way of all the world, in trade, in barter. Some had flour. Others had fish. Some had wood or metal or jewels. Some even had money.

Marian knew the money was most precious. She could trade such coin for almost anything. It could go for services such as doctors, or for the entertainers that set up shop around the town at night. In Marian’s dreams, the coin could go for perfume, or for jewels. She never spent any on those things, but Marian knew it was possible. She could hold the money for the days Marian did not feel well enough to work. Yet something else called for the money in Marian's life.

Since the fighting had killed Stalyk, many things troubled Marian. She had seen the Roman soldiers come and go. She saw the constant fights with the guerrillas who came in off the desert. They irritated the Roman garrison, then ran back into the hills. The fighters never had much opportunity to really do damage to the Roman army. The Roman legions were too many and too well armed. The fighters just pestered the Romans; even killed a few of them. They could not finally defeat the Romans.

Marian saw death and destruction in the streets. The fighters and the soldiers were not the only ones who suffered the ills of society. She saw families breaking up over wine-drinking. She saw men and women and children wandering homelessly about the streets. They had no shelter, no sanctuary from the cold. Many had no sandals, or no blankets.

Marian saw hunger, and sometimes knew it. She saw how fragile was her own existence. She knew she lived in constant danger. Any day might see her raped or ill or homeless.

If Rome attacked the population of the city, she was as defenseless as any. The reality of her whole world could come to pieces around her in an emergency. Marian had no way to defend herself.

Marian couldn't know the future. Almost forty years later, Rome would sack the city trying to destroy the Jewish heritage. Marian could not have seen that ninety years later the Romans would exact bloody revenge for the attacks by the hill country fighters. The Romans would pull the temple down on several hundred men, women and children. The Jews thought they would be safe, and had taken refuge there. They thought the Romans would not spill blood in the temple. She could not have known of the coming disaster, but she could feel it coming.

This widow was not without her own strength, however. With the death of Stalyk, Marian had committed herself to finding her strength in one place, in one relationship. She had no other recourse. She craved no other source of strength.

Marian knew she needed to find at least one anchor, one rock that would stand firm. If she did, she might cope with whatever the world might throw at her. She had to have a solid rock, a foundation.

She had found her rock. The Lord, the ancient God of the Hebrew people, was her foundation. The rock who was present in Sinai and in Babylon. The rock who was later at Auschwitz and Flossenberg, and who was there in Gaza and Tel Aviv. This was her rock, her strength.

So for twelve years, Marian had made the trek to the temple for the sake of her Rock. She went to the Sanctuary of Yahweh, the Lord, the god whose name says "I will risk my very existence for you!" She called on the Lord of the ancient ones, asking for little, giving praise for much.

For twelve long years she brought to the House of the Lord everything she had left at the end of the day. She held nothing back.

Sometimes it was a few coin, sometimes it was some small gift. Sometimes it was a handful of flour, or a pair of children’s sandals or other small item. These she placed on a table from which the poor could help themselves. Always it was a gift of everything she could put together from her own meager supplies.

Then Marian would go to a small corner for a long time in prayer. Each day the prayer was much the same as the day before.

"Blessed art thou, O Lord, Ruler of the universe. Because you walk hand in hand with me through this day, I fear no evil. Your presence is a comfort to me. I bring this small bit you might use.

For the sake of all who need your presence, establish on earth your kingdom among all of us. I thank you, Lord, that I might share in your presence with this gift. Amen."

With that gift, Marian became one with the will of God. She became one with the Lord in love. Faithful Marian shared her life with her creator just as the Son of God would be one day share his life with her. She lived to be faithful. She was faithful to live.

Often Marian stayed late, kneeling in the corner. She listened often, intently focusing for the voice from God, sensing the peace of the presence of God.

Then Marian began her walk back home. After the time around the temple, the walk home was much easier. As she walked, she began to plan her work and schedule for later in the day. She had sandals to repair or make, leather to work, meal to grind, clothes to wash. Each day was much the same. Marian always had time to pet a dog, or smile at a child, or talk with a young mother holding a squirming family together. Occasionally Marian visited with a Roman soldier or a local politician who was wearing her handiwork on his feet.

Jesus, watching all this, said only, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all the wealthiest of the nations have put in together. They have contributed out of their abundance. This woman, giving out of her poverty, has put in all the living she had. The Lord will reward her."

Jesus knew her heart. He talked then about the problems of this life. He talked about the certainty that all cities are places of destruction and desolation to the poor.

Jesus said "In the midst of all this sorrow, lift up your hearts. When the world seems to come unglued in your very presence, lift up your hearts. It is in the midst of that hurt your redemption comes. It is in the midst of turmoil God will save the people."

"When you see the destruction, you will know the Father is at work among you. The Church will be there, clear to the end of all things. It must live there, building, redeeming, empowering, chastening. It must live."

Somewhere, someplace, the words of Isaiah rang again loud and clear just as Jesus had read them two years and a hundred and fifty miles away.

"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, for the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed. The Lord has called me to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord."

Marian went home late in the evening, but not alone.

Scythopolis

Scythopolis

Luke 10:1-20

Karl Evans

The Second Dozen around Jesus was very important to Jesus. This group seemed to do all the work. The gospels teem with stories of these hard workers going here and there for Jesus. They recruited. They found food and lodging. They went places Jesus could never go. But they worked without fanfare. The first dozen got the credit.

One of this second twelve was an ordinary fellow, Elos by name. Elos worked hard in the name of his master. He just saw himself as committed totally to Jesus. He was really just, well, not as well known as some of the disciples.

Jesus sent some second twelve workers out to all the towns in the north of Palestine. Others made their way into Lebanon. Some went to Egypt, or even Jerusalem. Many of them would never return after being sent out. They were victims of accident, disease, or repression. Some were unable to keep the faith. Others just found work that kept them busy until the day they died.

But not the first thirteen. Most of the first group stayed close. They may have felt the need to stay in touch. Staying in touch seemed somehow critical. Some catastrophe such as the end of the world might come about. Or they might just lose track of each other, not be able to make contact. Then again, some were prepared to spend the next several days in prayer.

After Jesus finished giving everyone else their assignments, he studied Elos a moment. He furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes as if deep in thought before speaking.

"Elos, I have a challenge for you. Everyone else is going out two at a time to spread the Kingdom. Some are going north to Damascus. Some are headed for Jerusalem, or for Egypt. Some are going around Lake Tiberias into the Decapolis. Everyone has their own assignment now except you.”

“I haven't forgotten you. I have a special task for you. A little town called Scythopolis is crying out. I think just for you. It is very important to me. There are some personal things there . . .” Jesus’ voice trail off. He paused, deep in thought, before he spoke again.

“The people there have asked for someone to come talk about the Kingdom of God. I want you to go there. The problem is, I don't have anyone to send with you. I had hoped someone else would come along, but no one has. Are you willing to go by yourself? Do you think you can handle it?"

"Scythopolis!" thought the dumbstruck Elos. "Scythopolis! No one wants to go to Scythopolis. Good grief! I can't go there. They resent even their own prophets there. They string up their prophets up on a tree. At least they did this to the last fellow who went there to announce a new world. They put a crown of thorns on his head and called him the King." The image dancing in Elos’ head panicked him for a moment.

The stream of confused thoughts continued. "I can't do it. I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I'm too young to die. Do I have to go alone? Why me? Send me to Tyre or Sidon. If I fail there, at least I can just get on a ship and keep on going. Or send me to Babylon so I can be a slave.”

In his thoughts Elos cried out. “Send me to Egypt so I can build another pyramid in my captivity. That would be easier than preaching in Scythopolis. Am I actually going to Scythopolis? Forget it, buster!" His daydreams were filled with rebellion. But he spoke cautiously.
_

"Jesus, uuuhhhh, I think I need to pray about this. It would be very difficult, you know. I hear there are some strong persons there who are pretty set in their ways. They are all Samaritans! Every one of them. Samaritans don't take too kindly to outsiders. Samaritans do not really understand our religion, our theology. They carry long knives. My mother told me I should not marry a Samaritan. I don't know the language all that well. I hear the cost of living is very high there."

Jesus laughed. Elos had always liked to hear Jesus laugh, but not now. "Elos, I am not sending you to Scythopolis to build a harem or to produce a large family. People there need me. I just cannot go every place and talk to every person. Do you understand?”

“Go to Scythopolis and you will find the wildest thing. The people there are just ordinary folk. Teachers and rabbis and cooks and children. The mayor is a decent chap, although he is getting on in years. I know a counselor who has a son who is spoiled rotten.”
_

“When you go to the inn, tell them I sent you, and they will put you up free. They have promised me this. Just go, and tell them about me. Tell them you have talked with me, you have seen me. That's all you have to do. Will you go?"

Jesus really didn't give Elos a chance to say "No!" Before Elos knew what was up, he was on his way south. The distance was not far, and there were many people on the road to walk with. Soon he was near the little Samaritan town of Scythopolis. As he came near the ancient Greek city, he had the strangest feeling he had been part of this scene before.

It was just as Jesus had described the town. Jesus gave Elos so many details Elos suspected Jesus had been there and made the arrangements. That would have had to happen during a time Jesus just disappeared for several days. He did this sometimes.

In Scythopolis, Elos found teachers and rabbis with their funny little black hats. There were dogs and cats, chickens and cattle, camels and horses. He found a market, and an inn, and a synagogue. He was not to sure about visiting a Samaritan synagogue.

Elos met the mayor who obviously expected Jesus to send someone. Perhaps the mayor looked for someone with a higher status in the organization. The mayor was getting old, and was gray and too plump to be a great politician.

The mayor introduced him to the chief rabbi in town who also served as a community counselor. The rabbi was busy writing a grant to attend a conference at Tyre. He needed to spend a few days getting training in new methods. He also yearned to catch a few rays of ocean front sunshine.

The counselor's son kept interrupting the conversation. Finally he kicked Elos in the shin and screamed "Get out of here! I want to talk now!" This confused Elos, but he did not speak of the bratty child.

The mayor took Elos to the inn which was run by Jacob with help from a woman called Elissa. Elissa was a dressmaker, but as her eyes failed she had to find other work. The inn was the only available work in town.

Now because it was late in the evening, Jacob provided a meal of mutton stew for Elos. After Elos ate, Jacob showed Elos the corner of the room where he would be sleeping.

At one time, Scythopolis had a fairly heavy traffic of commercial travelers. Now few people came through the town. The commercial travelers all slept on the floor on straw pallets in the big room. During the day the pallets were picked up and piled neatly in the corner.

The straw pallets attracted many mice, and the mice attracted many cats. Jacob told Elos he had wanted to get rid of some cats, but Elissa wouldn't let him do it. She said they needed the cats to keep the mouse population down. But forty-'leven cats?

Elos’ feet were so tired he really did not care about Elissa’s many cats. He just wanted to sleep. He didn't even care if half the travelers and dogs in the place snored. Nothing could be worse than James and John. Jesus and the other disciples called James and John Sons of Thunder. He did appreciate, however, the cat. It came to his bed at night and curled itself up at his feet. The warmth felt good, and he was soon fast asleep.

Suddenly a man roared in the dim lamplight and started everything going. Dogs panicked and started fighting. Cats scattered. Elos sat up in a daze and wondered whether to panic and run. He knew, he just knew, he should not have come. The tiny lamp burned through the night to help folks avoid trampling each other. Now the dim light only allowed some sense of forms jumping and moving around, wondering.

Finally the voice of the man who had started the confusion came strong and clear. "Settle down. Go back to sleep. That blasted cat just licked the bottom of my foot. Good . . . night."

Elos learned to put up with the cats. Elissa was very kind and made it worth the trouble. When Elos went out into the town in the early morning. He often found someone who was hungry or sleeping under the bridge. This stranger was someone to feed. At first Elos begged the merchants around town to help him provide for the poor. They soon tired of the drain on their purses. He began to bring them back to the inn for food. He offered to go without a meal or a place to sleep if Elissa would help him care for the stranger.

Dear Elissa would provide a bath, and some food. Then through much of the night Elos and Jacob and Elissa and some others who couldn't sleep would sit and talk. They talked mostly about trying to make life better. They hoped only to take some first steps toward helping the poorest of the poor find food and shelter. These weak ones might later become the leaders of the community. For now, these people needed to know God loved them. They needed food and shelter just to live.

The process seemed long and hard, harder even than Elos had feared. Elos doubted he was doing any good in Scythopolis. He tried and tried. He talked to every person he could find. Scouring the streets was not productive. He talked to rabbis, and homemakers, and merchants, and children. Elos tried everything he could think of. He succeeded only in growing more discouraged as time went on.

Finally the time came to report to Jesus what had happened in Scythopolis. Elos knew from experience the words Jesus expected to hear. Jesus would take the time to listen to a full report. Jesus would want to know what great things he had done for Scythopolis. He would ask how many lives Elos had renewed.

Elos was most embarrassed when he thought he had wasted his time. He knew he had spent much time trying to help the poor people of Scythopolis. He helped them to just stay alive. Elos helped them find food and shelter and new life. He had not built any organization. He knew he had not really spent much time talking about Jesus. There just wasn't time.

Elos needed to take someone with him just to prove he had not just been standing around in Scythopolis. He thought of all those he had tried to help. In frustration he panicked, knowing well that apparently he hadn't really helped anyone.

Several alcoholics had gone back to the jug. Some of his projects had just wandered off, kings of the road, not wanting to stay in town. Some had just come in for the bath and for the food. When the sun came up, they were on the road again. It was very frustrating for Elos.

The night before Elos was to return north to Jesus and admit his failure, he struggled with his own failure. He sat outside the inn with his head in his hands. Elissa came and sat beside him. "Elos, what's the problem? I thought you would be excited about going back to the Sea of Galilee and seeing Jesus and your old friends again. You are moping around here as if you don't really want to go. What is it?"

Elo s admitted to Elissa his worry about standing in the gathering of the followers of Jesus. He struggled to admit his failure to renew the town of Scythopolis. He couldn't see he had helped anyone find a new life. No one. No success. Everything in town looked pretty much as it did on the da y he came.

Elos and Elissa sat in the cool evening, wondering. What might have been if they had some money to work with? Maybe if Jesus could have sent someone with Elos. They talked about all those with whom they had worked. They talked about their hopes for successes in the future. Elos knew not much could be claimed as success tonight. As the evening went on, at least Elos could talk to someone about his problems. Maybe he would get some sleep that night.

Finally, after a long period of silently listening and thinking, Elissa spoke softly. "Would you like me to go with you and be there when you speak? I'd like to meet this Jesus you have talked so much about. I'm sure Jacob will let me have a few days off. The cats will be all right."

Elos laughed. This wasn't exactly what he had expected. Elissa? Hardly a new person. Hardly one who had made a major shift in the direction of her life. Elissa was a good woman, not one who had seen a new light, ethically and morally. Elos could not brag to Jesus about having changed Elissa’s place in the community. No one would whisper their appreciation for the work of Elos in Scythopolis based on any changes in Elissa.

Elissa would be good company on the trip if she didn't insist on bringing all those blasted cats. OOOhhhhh, my!

Two days later they were near Capernaum in the evening, down by the lake. Jesus was there, and the disciples, and the rest of the second twelve. The word spread that Jesus was calling his people together for a meeting. Some curious people came out from town, curious about Jesus. They were curious about those who had gone away, and were now returning. Some wanted to support the work. They just came along to be helpful in whatever way they could. Some came expecting some kind of miracle.

Jesus asked the disciples and the second twelve to come away from the crowd for a time. He wanted to be with them, to talk privately with them, and to pray with them.

A disciple pointed out the crowd was hungry. A few biscuits and a couple fish were all the food available to feed them.

Jesus took these simple foods, blessed them, and handed them to the disciples. "Here, take this food, and feed the people. Then bring what you have left over and come join the rest of us. We will be up by that rock." A couple disciples smiled at the joke of there being any food left over. Jesus pointed to an outcropping on the hill and started for it.

Jesus took the second twelve off by themselves while the disciples began to serve the people. When Jesus and his people gathered near the rock, he asked how they had been feeding the people.

A couple had been to Tiberias and had cast out demons in the name of the Lord. Two had just recently returned from Sidon where they had worked among the Roman garrison there. On and on it went. It seemed each person had a more successful story to tell.

Finally, at last, only Elos had not spoken. Jesus turned to Elos. "I sent you to Scythopolis to feed my sheep. What happened to you there? Tell us all the great things you have accomplished."

Elos hung his head. He was trying to gather his courage to admit failure when he heard a voice beside him speaking. "Let me answer for Elos! He is very bashful just now. My name is Elissa. I can say what Elos cannot find words to say.”

“I am a simple woman. All my adult life I have lived alone until just recently. I have made a few shekels sewing clothes for the wealthy. Even sewing for the poor in Scythopolis has given me a small profit.”

“My friends have been my cats, so many of them I could not count. My pay for sewing for the poor has often been in fish. I have fed the fish to my cats--or any cats who have come to me for food. They have been my family.”

“Not long ago I began to lose my sense of touch. I could not sew. The needle would not hold in my hand. I found work cleaning and cooking and keeping accounts at the inn of a friend.”

“I was lost. I held a job I didn't understand and didn't want to do. The people who came in were tired and cranky from travel. They were dirty from the dust of the road. They smelled like camels and donkeys and dogs and cattle. I did not think I could do the work. I knew I did not want to do the work. Quit the job! Just wander off into the desert and die.“

“One night Elos brought someone else with him. Elos had been staying in the inn a few days. Elos paid for a bath and food for him. The next night it was a different man who was the guest. Then it was an elderly woman. Elos brought others. I wondered about Elos, whether he knew what he was doing.”

“One night he came to me asking if I knew of some way he could work off the bath and the food. We arranged some things with the people we knew. Every night for the next three weeks, someone else came for help. I began to look forward to the evening, wondering whom Elos would bring.”

“Each night he would come to the door with a frustrated look in his eyes, or maybe be apologetic. When he asked for help for his new friend, I always gave him a hard time. I'd say `Not again!'.”

“I began to enjoy helping. I began to enjoy life again. I began to hear the birds sing. I stopped to watch little children play."

As Elissa talked, Elos watched her only in his heart. He remembered the many hours of talking with her. He recalled the strength she seemed to pour into his soul to keep him going. Now he could clearly see her face in his heart's eye as she spoke words he could not find.

"When Elos said he had to come back here and tell you about his failure, I cried. He was embarrassed. He was frustrated.”

“I knew he hadn't failed. He had not failed because at least he changed me. My life was entirely new. I have new hope.”

“Jesus, you changed Elos. You changed his life into something new, and exciting, and wonderful. When you did, you changed my life.”

“So I had to come, because Elos didn't know how he changed my life. He came to Scythopolis just for me. Other people there needed you. You would never see them. He came to Scythopolis just for me, and it's through him I know you, Jesus."

Elos felt the tears running down his cheeks, but no one saw them. Just then some disciples came up the hill to Jesus and the second twelve.

"This is what's left of the food. Enough for everyone here. We don't understand. We started with just a little bit, and started feeding people. Now we have more than we did when we started. We don't understand."

Jesus smiled and replied "I think Elissa does. I think Elissa understands."

Assyrian Creation Story

Enuma Elish

When on High

Karl Evans


From about the time of Ezekiel
Adapted by Dr. Karl Evans
from the work of Dr. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testaments, and many others.

Sometimes we wonder what difference it makes
What religion we follow,
What beliefs we hold.

Does it matter whether we are Methodist,
Or even Christian, or Muslim or Parsi?
Perhaps there is no difference?

Perhaps it makes no difference what we believe.
Perhaps it makes no difference why we are created,
Or what we believe about our creator.
Perhaps it makes no difference,
The state of the mind of the Creator
At the moment of creation.
We say that sometimes.
But I don't know.
I don't know.

Now our nation is locked into a battle with other nations,
Nations from which our forefathers sprang,
Nations that was the birthplace of Abraham,
The bonds-places of Isaiah, and of Ezekiel,
the home of Babylon and its tower.

When Ezekiel and the people were in slavery there,
Two and a half millennia ago
Ezekiel saw the erosion of the faith.
He saw the ritual
That awful ritual,
That defined the lives of the people of Babylon
on the first day of the
New Year on the tower, that awful place,
the ziggurat,
the holy place of the Babylonians.

Thousands of Babylonians sang and chanted
While standing on the steps of the Ziggurat.
Thousands stood waiting, waiting and listening
For the blessing of the Story of Creation,
For the blessing of being Babylonian.

Ezekiel was confounded by what he saw.
He saw that all the youth of Israel were tempted to join the
Babylonians on the slopes of the Ziggurat.
He knew the story that would be told there,
About the creation.

But there would be no Yahweh
No ancient Lord of Israel,
No remembering the faith
of the Wandering Arameans
who left this place fifteen hundred years before.

Ezekiel knew the citizens of Babylon,
And all those who wished to turn their backs
On the faith of their fathers,
the ancient ones,
Would be there to become as one of the Babylonians
By listening to this story.

They would become as one of the Babylonians,
Free to own land,
Free to marry those cute Babylonian girls,
Free to get a loan at the bank,
By going to the Ziggurat on the first day of the New Year,
By listening to the story,
And allowing the drops of ritual blood to fall on them.

When the children of Israel
Stood on the terraces of the Ziggurat,
This is the story they would hear
That would change them from Israelites
To Babylonians.

Let it be its own witness.
Let it reveal to you the truths of Yahweh and the Creation,
Let it reveal by speaking what is not the truth.
Let it speak by its lies and deceits. Hear,
and understand in your heart
the struggle of Ezekiel.

When on High the heavens had not been named,
Before the fog and mist was brought to order,
Before firm ground had been called forth and named,
There were only two--
By name,
Apsu, the sire of all that was to be,
And Mother Tiamat, she who bore all life in her womb.

The fresh waters of Apsu, the begetter,
And the marine waters of Mother Tiamat,
Commingled together as a single body,
There was no separation between them.
There was no firmness anywhere.
There was not so much as marsh land
In the mist that was their being.

Then it happened that the gods were formed within them,
Gods and goddesses were brought forth,
Being named and ordered by Apsu and Mother Tiamat.

The first of them were formed, Anshar and Kishar by name,
Called before all others.
And Anshar and Kishar lived long and well.

Their child was Anu, the equal of Anshar and Kishar,
The equal of all before him.
The Heir-child of Anu was Nudimmud,
Not the equal of his fathers,
But the master of his fathers
And his fathers' fathers.

Nudimmud was one of broad wisdom,
Understanding,
Mighty in strength.
He was mightier by far than his grandfather, Anshar.
Nudimmud had no rival among the other gods, his brothers.

Nudimmud was leader among the gods,
Chief among the pack, chief at the party.
Nudimmud and his brothers ran and shouted back and forth
Among the mists of all that was.
One day they partied and laughed,
On another day they fought and cried the cries of battle.
Every day they were loud,
Strong in their disturbance of Tiamat, the mother god..

By their loudness and their laughter and their youthful cries
They disturbed the mood of Tiamat as they surged
Back and forth, back and forth.

Apsu, the father of their fathers,
Chided them strongly for their loudness.
"Pipe down in there!
Have a little respect for your elders."
Tiamat was beside herself at their ways,
These young gods and goddesses, their seed.
Their actions were loathsome to her.
Unsavory were their ways,
They were overbearing in their manner,
Rebellious children.

Then Apsu called his wizard, saying
"You who makes my spirit sing,
Let us go talk to Tiamat!"
Together they went to the beautiful Tiamat,
The mother of all gods and goddesses.

Apsu spoke words of anger and bitterness.
"I find their ways repugnant and stupid.
There is no relief during the day
And I cannot rest by night.

I will destroy them,
I will wreck their ways
That quiet may be restored.
Let us have rest!" said Apsu.

Hearing this, Tiamat raged at Apsu.
"What is this?
Should we destroy all that we have built?
These are our children!
We will be kind and gentle with them."

Then the wizard spoke to Apsu.
His advice was evil and self-serving.
"Destroy them and their mutinous ways.
Then you will have relief both by day and by night."

And Apsu's face grew red with rage at what he planned
Against his sons and daughters.

Now, whatever Apsu and Tiamat plotted between them
Was repeated to the gods, the children of Apsu and Tiamat.
When the child-gods heard these things,
They became frightened,
Then fell into silence and remained speechless.

But one of the gods, surpassing all others in wisdom,
Experienced in power and in resourcefulness,
His name was Ea,
He saw through their scheme.
Ea designed a master design, bold and daring,
And by his powers set it into the whole scheme of being so That none could set it aside or depart from it.

Ea made Apsu sleep the non-waking sleep,
The sleep of too much wine..
With Apsu asleep, the wizard was unable to stir,
For his being resulted only from the mind of Apsu.
After Ea chained Apsu,
Ea took the crown from the head of Apsu
And placed it on his own head.
He took the cosmic halo
And wrapped it around his own brow.

Having thus bound Apsu,
Ea slew his father's father.

Then there was peace for a time.

Ea and his Bride, Damkina,
Dwelled in peace in the holy house
Built on the rounded belly,
the top of the body of Apsu,
The body on which we stand today.
This body, the Great Height of Babylon.

Now, in this holy house,
The sacred home on the holy hill,
Was created a god,
The most able and wise of the gods.

Marduk was his name.
Nursed by the most becoming of the goddesses,
Marduk was rendered perfect in awesomeness,
Strong in his walk, alluring in his figure,
Sparkling the lift of his eyes.

There was no disfigurement to see or to control him by.
Four were his eyes, four were his ears,
Seeing all things and hearing all things.
When he moved his lips,
Fire blazed forth.

Damkina his mother cried out
"My Son! My Son!
My Son, the Sun of the Heavens!"

The child-gods looked among themselves
For a champion,
A hero to battle the awesome Tiamat, their mother.

And Marduk was named to be King,
Conferred with scepter, throne and robe.
They said to Marduk,
"Go and cut off the life of Tiamat.
Sever her into many pieces!
May the winds bear her parts to places unknown!"

Then Marduk laid his face to disturb Tiamat,
The mother of gods,
To wrest from her the last knot of power.

Marduk called forth the storms to disturb Tiamat,
For the gods have no sleep in the storm.

And the words came to Tiamat,
"Watch what Marduk is doing!
When they slew Apsu, your lover,
You did not aid him but lay still.

Because you lay still, and did not stir,
Your lover Apsu was destroyed.
Now Marduk has brought the mighty storm to disturb you,
And there is no rest.
There is none other. You are left alone.
Let Apsu, your lover, be avenged!"

So Tiamat chose from among her own assembled gods,
Her first-born,
A council for battle, and a leader.
This leader was one Kingu, given all power in council.
"Your command shall be unchangeable,
Your word shall endure."
Tiamat set Kingu up as her son, her heir,
In command of all things.
Kingu began to prepare for battle,
Calling from all the council of Tiamat their advice.

From Mother Hubur, who fashions all things,
Tiamat gathered matchless weapons.
Only Mother Hubur could make them,
These master tools of violence.

Tiamat bore monster-serpents with sharp teeth
And long fangs, filled with venom.
Tiamat clothed roaring dragons with terror,
Making them like gods,
So that all who look upon them will die.
She set up the Viper,
The Dragon,
And the Sphinx.
She called for the Great Lion,
The Mad Dog,
And the Scorpion-man,
The Centaur,
Weapons that spare not.

Thus Tiamat prepared to avenge her lover, Apsu,
To make her own peace by destroying her own children.

And thus it came that the battle to be fought,
Came to be fought between Tiamat, the mother of gods,
And Marduk,
Merodach-bashan, to those who read the Old Testament.
It was a battle long on power and on brutality,
A battle not ever to be matched
among those who survived the first..

Marduk and Tiamat fought with demons and dragons,
Powers and beasts,
With sharp teeth and clashing fang.

With loud roars,
Marduk threw lightning bolts through the skies at Tiamat.
With shrieks of anger,
Tiamat tore at Marduk
With her Scorpion-man
And with her Mad Dog.

Then at last Tiamat opened her mouth with a rage,
To the roots of her legs she shook,
Casting leave of her senses.

Tiamat prepared to consume Marduk,
So wide open was her mouth.

Marduk seized the moment,
The decisive moment of the universe,
Drove the tornado into her mouth
So she could not close it.
Her body was distended by the force of the wind.
He slew her with an arrow formed of the lightning,
A flash of fire, a spear formed of the heat of the sun.

Casting her down.
Marduk slew her there.
Marduk slit her body open as a clamshell,
Half of which he posted as the earth,
Holding the waters of Apsu and Tiamat.
Half the body of Tiamat
Marduk made to be the sky.
Marduk named the years and the days.
Marduk set up the seasons and the constellations.
He set the moon ablaze at night.

And then Marduk announce his grandest plan.
"Blood I will mass, and cause bones to be.
I will establish a savage, Man shall be his name.
He will do the work for the gods,
That the gods will be at ease.
For we are gods, and labor should not be our lot.
But one of the gods must die
That the rest of us might live.

Ea, the father of Marduk, spoke to Marduk,
Pleased by the plan for the relief of the gods.
"Let but one of the gods be handed over.
He alone shall perish that mankind may be fashioned.
Let us call the gods into assembly,
And let the god who is guilty before all be handed over
That the others may endure."

In the assembly, the gods cried out,
“It was not I!
It was Kingu!
It was Kingu who brought the uprising,
Who caused the battle!"

They brought poor Kingu before Ea
Who pronounced the guilt
And the condemnation of Kingu.
They opened his blood vessels
And as his blood fell freely in drops to the earth,
Full of the very passion of the gods,
The vision of the gods for tomorrow,
Full of the power of the gods,
The blood was fashioned into humankind,
By the addition of the ways of death
And uncertain knowledge
And humankind became a reality
For the service of the gods.
For the eternal service of the gods.

And it came to pass that humankind,
To this day,
Is called to serve the gods.

Humankind is named from the blood of Kingu
To plow the fields and irrigate the crops,
To harvest the crops,
To build temples for the glory of the gods,
And to bring to these temples
The best of the produce of the fields
That the gods might be satisfied
And rage and battle no more.

And when the old year and all persons die,
The blood of Kingu will scatter upon the earth,
And you will come again to life
And yet again will the gods be satisfied
By your labors.

And as the priest finished reciting the story of the creation,
He gathered up his container of wine,
Shaking it against the skies,
Letting the drops of blood-red liquid fall among the crowd
Gathered on the slopes of the Tower.
And the drops were brought into new life in the persons on whom they fell,
New life to serve the gods,
The citizenship of the nation,
For the service of the gods.

Let no one assume, now,
That the people of Iraq still share that ancient myth.
Today, even the people of Iraq,
Devout Muslims, many,
Strong in their faith,
Have a creation story that is different--
Quite different--
From the one I have just told you.
They have turned their backs on this old story--
Indeed, most of them abandoned it long ago.

Let us consider the new story they have chosen
To establish the relationship between human beings and god,
The god they know as Allah.

Let me read to you just a bit of this story.

In the Beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth,
And the earth was without form and void, adrift in the mist.
And darkness was upon the face of the deep waters. ......

Sound Familiar? It should.

The Scriptures of Islam and the Scriptures
Of Judaism and Christianity are together
Until we reach the story of Hagar and Ishmael.

Then let me read to you something that is said later.
Coming from the covenant God makes with the People,
Who live out this story of life and covenant.

God loved the people of the world so much
that he gave the life of his only son
That whoever lives and has faith with him
might not perish but have eternal life.

Words of Fire

Words of Fire

Luke 19:45-47

Karl Evans

Geminel stood silently before the altar of the Temple. His eyes fogged absently as they took in the fire of the altar. It blazed and cooled, rose and fell as the priests fed it with the sacrifices.

The men of Israel had gently laid their living sacrifices in the hands of the priests. The priest had the responsibility of the last few moments of the sacrifices. Before the fire consumed the animals, their lives were in the hands of the priests. Using the ancient rituals, the priests carefully kill the sacrifices. Then the men of Yahweh said the appropriate prayers and placed the gift on the fire.

These priests worked with a show and reality of deep reverence and respect. They had been selected from their own communities as a gift of honor. The temple guild called them into this position only a few times in a lifetime of service.

Out in the courtyard, the scene was quite different. Far less reverence and respect showed among the peddlers. Many who came from far places expected to pay for their trip by hawking their wares. They sold sacrifices and keepsakes, food and clothing to the pilgrims coming through to worship.

"Get your sacrifices here! Get your doves! Two spotless doves for twenty-five dollars. I just brought these in this morning. My boys have been raising them for pets. Guaranteed no blemishes!" Of course, the doves were usually purchased from Jerusalem youth in the last few days.

"A-number one ram here for the sacrifice! Only five hundred dollars! Only one left in all of Jerusalem!"

The prices asked for the sacrifices by those who bought and sold there shocked Geminel. It seemed almost too much money changed hands.

How could it be theologically correct? How could it be an act of faith? Must the proper sacrifice to God operate on a bottom line cash basis only?

This time, Geminel himself had done what most of the poorer pigeon vendors did to get their pigeons. He had gone at night out into the city in the late dusk. Stealthy moves allowed him to catch two good pigeons sitting on their roosts.

By faint lamplight, Geminel hurriedly inspected them for flaws. These two looked all right. No broken wings or legs. The feathers were in good shape. Best of all, they were free. No feeding. No wholesaler to pay. They would have to do.

Now, with daylight came the morning business. Men and boys whom he had seen out scouring the town for roosting pigeons last night had brought in their unfortunate captives. Now the trappers were selling them at the Temple for outrageous prices.

The people who had actually raised pigeons could command huge prices for the birds. They had invested time and feed in them, and did so to make a profit. They could sell spotless birds to the wealthiest pilgrims. The best birds brought great profits to the entrepreneurs.

The scavengers like Geminel, though, had no investment other than the few minutes it took to grab the birds from the roosts. These were the ones who were ripping off the poorer pilgrims and the less devout. Many of these latter travelers had come from as far as Spain, or India, or Russia to offer sacrifices at the Temple.

Now at the climax of their journey, their own fatigue and the high pressure tactics of the traders took many of them in. This being the case, the pilgrims often offered less than perfect animals at the altar. The priests, fully aware of the problems of pilgrimage and language difficulties, generally looked the other way. No points would be made by embarrassing a traveler. That traveler might not be particularly friendly later to a supplier of inadequate products for holy sacrifice. No one wanted trouble here.

Geminel knelt in prayer at the Temple steps. He tried to avoid the hubbub around him. Concentrating on his prayer, Geminel vowed purity in his heart and commitment to the Messiah. Then Geminel rose in his turn. He stood in the line for a priests to take his two pigeons and ritually slaughter them. Then, after carefully inspecting their insides, the priest burned them as an offering to the Lord.

The flames rose and fell as they consumed the sacrifices. Occasionally a priest added wood brought by faithful pilgrims from their homes. Temple workers brought some wood from forests of the nation.

Geminel looked around at all those who were in the Temple with him. Dozens of people gathered for sacred rituals. Some came as priests. Some came as worshipers. Some came to make money. Some wanted to relieve boredom. Some came to bargain with the Lord for health or wealth or safety.

Everyone there hoped to profit somehow from something which might happen at the Temple. The profit might be money for the traders or for the priests. It might be some better gift from God for the worshiper. Or, it might be just some excitement in life. But something could probably be provided for almost every pilgrim.

Some were wealthy or tried to pretend they were. Some were poor, or tried to convince the thieves they were. Geminel felt nothing but pity for the really poor. Pity because it seemed they were actually hungry. Pity because they seemed out of place in the hubbub of buying and selling. This confusion went on as they offered up their sorry little gifts.

Geminel's mind wandered as he waited in line. His mind's eye pictured the man who controlled all this, who made things happen in the land.

This man in Geminel's thoughts was not the high priest. The high priest was just a functionary named by another. The job of the high priest was to organize the religious work. It was not up to him to build the faith or to run the nation.

The governor named the high priest. He was the one who made things happen around here. Right now, most of what was happening was bad.

Pilate was not really a military man, but he prided himself on his army. After all, it was the strongest force around. He had thousands of men who were well armed. His army was equipped with the latest weapons. Pilate had their swords and shields and helmets made with the strongest steel and iron.

Geminel had to chuckle at the thought of Pilate's army being a sign of strength. Armies are not of strength but of weakness. Strong leaders and diplomats do not need armies to fighting battles within their nations.

We build strong nations on trust and honor, not on swords and spears. Pilate could not see that. He believed all the hype about the need for spears and machines and spies.

Pilate only used the Temple to build his forced dictatorship. He needed protection only from those who questioned his dictatorship over their lives.

The Temple was a good organization to protect the interests of the power structures of Pilate's rule. All Pilate had to do was pass the word.

One priest or another would call judgement on those who were revolutionary enough to speak of a better way. The priest could call them radicals. He used words like "bleeding heart liberals." He could use any words he could find.

Forget their concern came from reading the prophets of ancient Israel. Forget their compassion, their sense of justice. If they challenge the system, they are wrong. Simple as that.

These matters were no concern to Geminel. Geminel only wanted to stand before the Lord, to make the sacrifice. Geminel wanted and needed to make peace with God.

While Geminel waited, he wondered for the profit of all this. How much of the proceeds of this scene would find its way into Pilate's pocket? Making the sacrifice only cost Geminel a few coins tossed into the hand of the officiating priest.

As he waited in line, some sort of ruckus began on the steps of the Temple. From where Geminel stood, he couldn't see what was happening. He could hear men shouting and see pigeons flying off. He could hear sheep bawling. Geminel was not really concerned until the Temple guards buckled on their breastplates and grabbed their shields.

Then a man whom Geminel had not seen before pushed his way through the crowd and came to the altar. There he knelt, obviously in deep and fervent prayer.

While he knelt a silence spread over the temple. It seemed the whole world had come to a complete stop. No one moved.

The Temple guards seemed frozen. Priests stopped their sacrificial slaughter, hands poised with sharp knives, not moving. The milling crowd paused as if waiting for something extraordinary to happen.

When the man rose, a wealthy men in the line walked over to the stranger and whispered something in his ear. The stranger listened to the Pharisee, then slowly lifted his eyes to survey the crowd.

He could see the men in the Temple, going about their daily work. He could see the rich and the poor, the home towners and the wanderers.

The Galilean looked out through the door of the Temple at the hovels of the poor. Forced to build outside the city walls, without water and without the protection of the walls, these poor could only dream.

Now the Galilean eyes filled with tears. He saw the broken down shacks of the poor pushed up against the outside walls of the city.

Inside the walls, the homes of the wealthy stood as fortresses against poverty for the owners. They were vaults for the wealth of the nation.

He spoke. "Go tell Herod, that sly fox, I am here. Tell him I will heal the sick for a couple days. Right here. I will give hope to the poor. I will make the blind see. I will release the captives of a sick world."

"This city, Jerusalem, the city of David, has had its chance. How often the poor of the city came to you. How often have those who live out in those mud huts in filth and disease and hunger come to you in their need? How often you could have taken them in as a mother hen covers her chicks. Yet you would not."

"Instead, you have stoned the prophets. You have slain those who told the truth about you. You have trampled the poor in your search for the almighty gold."

"Jerusalem, they will destroy you. These very ones who are turning a profit from your existence and your faithfulness. They will not just circumcise you. They will clean cut you off."

Jesus paused a moment. "I will go away now, but I will be back. When I come back you will say `Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the Name of the Lord!'"

As the man left, Geminel knew he would be back. More trouble was coming -- lots more trouble. Geminel knew Herod's soldiers would be waiting for him. Geminel knew the Temple guards would fight against the man. He had told the truth about the city and the Temple and the priests.

Somehow, Geminel knew down deep inside this man was no loser.

All the armies of all the nations did not destroy this man of the world. The most elite Temple guards can not hold him. The self-righteous statements and the hypocritical patriotism of the wealthy could not protect the temple. They could not hold back the forces this simple fisherman would loose. The class system that made up the nation could not withstand his justice.

This fellow would be back, all right. Jesus would be back to stay.

">Yachats Blue Link

The Brothers

The Brothers

(all rights reserved)

Karl Evans

O Cain. Sad Cain.
Cain who was born first of the brothers.
Cain who knew the blessings of birthright and name.

Now, without doubt,
Cain was a good man.
Hardworking farmer,
Backbreaking labor,
Breaking up the virgin earth to plant seeds and chop weeds and harvest crops.

Not a loud-mouthed braggart as some would suppose,
But a man of steady heart and bronzed arms and dusty hair and tired muscles.

But crops are slow in coming to glory,
Slow to turn the sun and sweat to gold and green.
Except for new potatoes the first fruits of the soil are rarely good,
rarely sweet and choice.
Rather, it is the fruit of the peak of the harvest
That wins the prize at the county fair and turns the mouths of the satisfied to drooling.

But the response one is called to make to the Creator is to bring to the Maker the first fruits.

And Abel. Doomed Abel.
Abel, the second son,
The one with nothing at stake.
The one with no birthright,
No land, no home.

Abel is an exile, One with no fields.
One with no fields becomes a hunter,
A worker with roaming animals, a shepherd by necessity.
Abel wanders with his flock of sheep
And when the sheep brings forth a lamb Abel brings that little bleating, nestling, suckling pile of skin and bones to God as offering.

Have you ever seen a day-old lamb?
Have you ever held one in your arms--
Had it look into your face with innocence and beauty?
Felt its pounding heart against your own?

You know, then, the heart of God.
Who among the loving gods could put the lamb down?
Who could ignore the curly wool,
The wondering eyes,
the warm body--
And turn then to nestling a sheaf of wheat,
an ear of corn,
a box of apples,
a bale of hay?

O Cain, sad Cain.
Your best has been brought side by side with that of baby brother.
Baby brother gets the blue,
You get the red.
Just the red.

No matter, Cain, that you have the name and the birthright
And the fields and the muscles.
No matter that Abel has only a few sheep and a bow and arrow.

Cain, sad Cain,
Your brother has the spotlight,
That which is yours of right.
No matter your crops are growing and yet to come on in beauty.
No matter the hard work ahead that will feed you both through the long cold winter.

No matter Abel is your brother,
Shared the same womb,
Suckled the same breasts.
Your brother dies at your hand,
O Cain, sad Cain.

All is lost.
Now you have no brother, Cain.
More than this,
You have no land, your home
Your firepit shall lie in ruins, sad Cain.

But more!
From the face of God you shall be hidden, Cain,
From seeing the smile,
From hearing the laugh.
And those hands, Cain--
Those hands that formed you from the clay

and laid you in your mother's womb--
You shall not lay into those hands your first-fruits of the ground!

Shall you be forever nothing, sad Cain?
But no!
Sad Cain, I promise 'tis not so!
Though you be adrift from fields of right
The God of Grace goes with you.
As your parents did before you
You have chosen to be cut off, sad Cain,
cut off from the face of God!

But who is that beside you, Cain?
Who is that who reaches out the hand for yours?
By your side moves the face of God,
Beloved Cain;
You shall not be cut off!

And is this not reward enough already,
That God is yet among us?
That added fame and wealth need not be sought,
For God is yet among us?
Bury your face in the shoulder, Cain,
Cry the tears of Joy.
Let your heart beat gently, Cain,
For God is yet among us.