Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand:
the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock,
the way of a ship on the high seas,
and the way of a man with a woman.
Proverbs 30: 18-19
Come Ardent Love and tell us of the day
When he who is our Truth and Life and Way
Encountered on the road a mystery
So wide, so massive, strong that even he
Was smote with dread, appalled, yet tantalized;
He stood transfixed and frankly paralyzed.
He gazed in wonder, rapt in holy thrall;
His feet were anchored, trapped by what he saw.
Come Sacred Love and tell us with deep sighs
Of dialogue which thrills and satisfies.
She heard their chatter from her solitude,
Some wandering men had come to purchase food;
But one was left up there in thought alone.
Who was that fellow sitting on a stone
By Jacob’s well, as midday sunlight shone
Upon his tranquil face and handsome beard?
The woman saw his distant form and feared
He might pass through her neighborhood without
Her practiced glance at him. She had no doubt
He’d find her shapely form and deep brown eyes
Sufficient cause to pause and fraternize;
Perhaps to stay his travels and to spend
An afternoon with one he might befriend.
Samaritans would visit by the well
This woman known to all as Annabel.
They had their own opinions of the dame,
But owned that they admired her just the same.
She’d had a troubled life, she seemed unfit,
But Annabel would never yield or quit.
So now she took an empty jar in hand
And marshaled all her spirits to command
A first assault upon the stranger’s eyes.
His tactless order caught her by surprise,
“Woman, give me a drink.” This rude salute
Recalled another, now discarded, brute.
Unfeeling men expect her to obey.
They’re all the same. But first she’ll dally, play
With him. He’ll have to haggle for a drink.
He’ll notice her; she’ll give him time to think
And then he’ll recognize her subtle charm,
Perhaps he’ll contemplate caresses warm,
The joy he might discover in her arms.
And so she asked with smile and cunning wink,
“Can Jews ask foreign women for a drink?”
Surprised, abashed, reminded once again
Of woman’s urge to square herself with man,
And of that vital ache within his flesh
That bound him in our complicated mesh
He looked at her and saw inviting eyes,
That like his own, could never quite disguise
The deep desire to plunge headlong in love,
To coo and murmur like the turtledove.
The game was on! He met her daring, most
Suggestive challenge with another boast:
“If but you knew the awesome gift of grace
And who is resting in this quiet place
You might have asked him for a deeper draft
Of living water, by his sacred craft.”
She laughed inside her eyes; she knew the game;
She played it with her boys and feared no shame.
“Sir, you have no pail, this cistern’s deep,
Our Father Jacob came here with his sheep,
You’re greater than the one who dug this well?
You think you can our patriarch excel?
And can those lovely hands dig such a stream
To quench his daughter’s thirst? Your boast redeem!”
With shining eyes, the stranger quick replied,
“Who use this well are never satisfied.”
Harrumph, she thought, you surely got that right,
My neighbors live to carp about their plight.
“Now those who drink the water I shall give
Will never thirst, but rather they will live
By bubbling springs within their inner hearts.
They’ll know the joy of life, its secret arts!”
This bragging boy was making too much noise,
She’d have to call his bluff, disturb his poise.
“I’d like to taste this water, if you please,
So I can spend my life in pleasant ease.”
He did not hesitate or break the spell,
“Go home and bring your husband to the well.”
But she was loathe to end the game so soon,
“I have no man to call this afternoon” --
An open invitation he might catch
To ease and soothe that old delicious scratch.
The prophet Moses met his lady fair
While sitting at a well; they made a pair.
There Jacob too displayed his manly might,
As Rachel oohed and ahhed, thrilled by the sight.
But this one had some mischief up his sleeve,
And hidden plans he still had to achieve.
“You’re surely right to say you have no mate,
For you’ve had five so far, plus one of late
And he is not your spouse.” His charming guile
Enjoyed the shock that froze her winsome smile.
A silence flowed between them like a wave;
She felt an eerie terror of this knave.
There opened at her feet a canyon vast;
How could he know about her sordid past?
She changed her tack, she quit the merry chase.
There’s more to Annabel than pretty face!
You’ll soon find out that I’ve an angry bent,
And I will crush you in an argument.
The stranger seemed still willing to engage,
But he had touched upon a sullen rage
That scorned the petty masters of this earth
Because they would not hail her native worth.
“So now I see that you’re a Jewish seer!
Our parents worshiped on this mountain here,
But you insist our prayers are never heard.
Your Adonai considers us absurd;
While you from Zion call to God on High,
Who hears your pleas, obeys your every sigh.”
Astonished by her sudden shift of mood,
He wondered Where’s those fellows with the food?
I’ve got myself into a narrow scrape,
Entangled here with no way to escape.
And so he stood his ground, esteemed her thought,
Revered her wrath, Samaria distraught.
“Hear me, Woman, the day is coming when
No one will think that God belongs to men.
You will not worship here upon this hill,
Nor think that God resides in Judah still.
You worship what you do not understand;
But we know our salvation is at hand.
The hour is coming and is almost here,
When worshipers who pray with holy fear
Will honor God in spirit and in truth.
Tranquility will renovate their youth.
For God is Zeal and those who worship God,
In Zeal and Truth will suffer not his rod.”
An unfamiliar hope in her arose,
She dropped her wrath, let fall the angry pose.
No man had ever listened to her mind,
They’d always had contempt for womankind.
A private person deep inside she kept,
Who for Messiah longed, but now she wept,
“I know that on some distant day he’ll come
And introduce a new millennium,
The Christ-Anointed, whom the angels sing,
And he will tell us everything.”
Old Jacob’s well stood open like a pit,
A gaping hole that said, “You must commit.”
He stared into its depths; the smell of moss
Distressed his senses, reeked to him of loss,
A pungent premonition of the cross.
The crisis hour has come at last, he thought
The awful truth, her probity has bought.
“Dear Annabel,” his voice was soft and meek,
“Now I am he, the one of whom you speak!”
They sat awhile in fear and trembling caught,
And felt a surge of peace, a swift onslaught
Of limpid, perfect beauty in one soul;
Two sep’rate people, joined, entirely whole.
How long they sat enrapt, they could not say,
A moment or an hour, perhaps the day.
Abiding in that place, they passed the time.
Old Jacob’s well became a paradigm
Of Paradise, and they the happy pair
In peaceful solitude beyond compare.
With this encounter Jesus filled her thirst,
Displaced the other six, became her first.
Messiah was that seventh chosen man,
Revealing to her heaven’s holy plan.
She felt within her heart a growing swell,
From unexpected source, a living well
Of courage, confidence and trust.
To friends and neighbors, now the word she must
Announce and sing and dance, for heaven’s sake!
The woman they had known was just a fake;
Her truer self he had set free at last;
Disciple now, the wretched days were past!
Just then the Lord’s disciples came with bread,
And found this noted woman in their stead.
Iscariot complained, “She’ll want her pay.”
And Thomas moaned, “O Lord, that’s not the way.”
But no one spoke a word to them;
They lacked the strength, his customs to contemn.
Beside the musty well she left her jar,
On living water now she would go far.
Back to the town she went as courtesan,
Proclaiming to the world her Seventh Man.
“Come, see a man who showed me my whole life,
A story sad and full of endless strife;
But now I’ve seen myself as God sees me,
A complex dame of deep simplicity;
A thoughtful person, stupidly behaved,
I’m gen’rous, selfish, lying, honest, saved!
I cannot change the way I’ve lived before,
But I’ll abide with it, despair no more.
I’ve peered into a living well of bliss
And seen a startling truth, I will confess:
That I don’t have to be here in this world,
But holy grace and kindness simply hurled
Me into life with basic innocence;
Two gifts restored, despite my negligence.
I found him by the well; I played the flirt.
He teased me too; it’s fun, no one gets hurt.
He’s int’rested in me; we pass the time;
And then like lovers fight, is that a crime?
When all at once the conversation turned
To things sublime, and both our faces burned.
To love this man’s like playing in a fire;
He wants my all; he thirsts for my desire.
And yet I saw him stricken, terrified,
Enchanted with me, smitten, gratified;
He stood transfixed, bewildered, frightened too.
Delighted with me, rapt, without a clue;
And even then he had authority!
Do you suppose he can Messiah be?
Please come and tell me what you think of him.
Is he of men or fallen seraphim?”
So with that news the folks set out from town
To meet this Jesus, look him up and down.
Meanwhile, the Lord’s disciples made appeal
To eyes and nose and tongue -- a pleasant meal.
They said to Jesus, “Come, let’s pray and eat,
We’ve bought some bread and wine and sav’ry meat;
But he had lost his appetite for food,
While chatting with his friend in solitude.
He said to them, “I’ve eaten food supreme
Delightful fare, beyond your wildest dream.
I find my satisfaction in God’s work,
T’is labor that I would not care to shirk.”
Samaritans were streaming up the lane,
They hoped this living water to obtain;
They’d ask the stranger if he would abide;
Some thought that Annabel could be his bride.
And Jesus said, “The fields are ready now,
The harvester is passing up the plow!”
In two days time they told their Annabel,
“This man you met while drinking at the well,
He spoke to us and now we’ve seen enough,
Your “seventh man” is true, he is no bluff.
He knows our sinful ways have been perverse;
But to ourselves he’s friendly, not averse,
He must be Savior of the Universe.”
A wounded Jesus staggered out of town
Feeling less a savior than a clown.
He’d never meant to go into that place,
His mission was for members of his race,
But then this woman came and spoke to him.
What started as a lark, a moment’s whim
Had opened new dimensions of his task.
He could not disregard all those who ask
To know his name and search within his eyes.
The world was wider than his Jewish ties.
But open-hearted love cut like a knife --
He ached for Annabel to be his wife!
He could not greet the day with easy smile
For his chance meeting with a woman’s style
Of feeling, touching, knowing human fire
Had kindled in his heart a fierce desire.
He had to go, he knew he’d have no rest
Unless he followed at his God’s behest,
But now integrity would cost far more
Because he’d stumbled on a deeper core
Of every human longing for embrace,
The wrenching pleasures of a carnal race.
He had to turn from her to God above,
But could not think of life without her love.
The ice pick stab of longing in his chest
Attended every step and stalked his quest.
Would sacred love this stinging passion quell?
Perhaps he dared too much for Annabel.
Too oft-divorced, a fallen, wayward girl;
Would Abba lift her up, a precious pearl?
And yet he had been sent to folks like her,
And while they parleyed, felt affection’s stir!
He heard their names were mentioned in one breath.
He shuddered -- yet he loved her unto death.
How could a moment’s conversation cause
Such grief? A restful break, a simple pause?
Awhile that ancient itch had been relieved
But now his troubled brain was sorely grieved.
Meanwhile the woman followed close behind;
She joined his troupe, she thought she’d always find
A place where she could serve him from afar,
So long as his disciples did not bar
Her constant love of his divinity.
Jerusalem became her destiny.
“Forget your people and your father’s house”
The scriptures said as she became his spouse
In spirit – though she never touched his hand.
She lodged within their hidden God’s command.
At last there came a day when aching ceased,
Their restless, urgent hunger was appeased.
His mission focused in the dead of night.
Jerusalem the city hove in sight.
Intensely Jesus loved its stones and mud;
But he had come to purge it with his blood.
They called to mind the anguish they had known;
Never could their passion be disowned.
He would not hate a member of her race;
Her gentle features shown in every face.
He prayed serenely as his mortal foes
Beset his calm with fearsome blows.
She stood with other women as he turned
His pain to prayer, and yet his Father spurned
His cry for help. He searched the empty skies;
“I thirst” he said; she stepped before his eyes.
His dying gaze fell on his Annabel,
And as he stared again into her well
Of love, old Jacob’s pit abruptly streamed.
It surged within his heart – his boast redeemed.
The taunting mob he blessed and then he died.
His longing and her thirst were satisfied.
Fr Ken Bartsch, OFM Conv.
the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock,
the way of a ship on the high seas,
and the way of a man with a woman.
Proverbs 30: 18-19
Come Ardent Love and tell us of the day
When he who is our Truth and Life and Way
Encountered on the road a mystery
So wide, so massive, strong that even he
Was smote with dread, appalled, yet tantalized;
He stood transfixed and frankly paralyzed.
He gazed in wonder, rapt in holy thrall;
His feet were anchored, trapped by what he saw.
Come Sacred Love and tell us with deep sighs
Of dialogue which thrills and satisfies.
She heard their chatter from her solitude,
Some wandering men had come to purchase food;
But one was left up there in thought alone.
Who was that fellow sitting on a stone
By Jacob’s well, as midday sunlight shone
Upon his tranquil face and handsome beard?
The woman saw his distant form and feared
He might pass through her neighborhood without
Her practiced glance at him. She had no doubt
He’d find her shapely form and deep brown eyes
Sufficient cause to pause and fraternize;
Perhaps to stay his travels and to spend
An afternoon with one he might befriend.
Samaritans would visit by the well
This woman known to all as Annabel.
They had their own opinions of the dame,
But owned that they admired her just the same.
She’d had a troubled life, she seemed unfit,
But Annabel would never yield or quit.
So now she took an empty jar in hand
And marshaled all her spirits to command
A first assault upon the stranger’s eyes.
His tactless order caught her by surprise,
“Woman, give me a drink.” This rude salute
Recalled another, now discarded, brute.
Unfeeling men expect her to obey.
They’re all the same. But first she’ll dally, play
With him. He’ll have to haggle for a drink.
He’ll notice her; she’ll give him time to think
And then he’ll recognize her subtle charm,
Perhaps he’ll contemplate caresses warm,
The joy he might discover in her arms.
And so she asked with smile and cunning wink,
“Can Jews ask foreign women for a drink?”
Surprised, abashed, reminded once again
Of woman’s urge to square herself with man,
And of that vital ache within his flesh
That bound him in our complicated mesh
He looked at her and saw inviting eyes,
That like his own, could never quite disguise
The deep desire to plunge headlong in love,
To coo and murmur like the turtledove.
The game was on! He met her daring, most
Suggestive challenge with another boast:
“If but you knew the awesome gift of grace
And who is resting in this quiet place
You might have asked him for a deeper draft
Of living water, by his sacred craft.”
She laughed inside her eyes; she knew the game;
She played it with her boys and feared no shame.
“Sir, you have no pail, this cistern’s deep,
Our Father Jacob came here with his sheep,
You’re greater than the one who dug this well?
You think you can our patriarch excel?
And can those lovely hands dig such a stream
To quench his daughter’s thirst? Your boast redeem!”
With shining eyes, the stranger quick replied,
“Who use this well are never satisfied.”
Harrumph, she thought, you surely got that right,
My neighbors live to carp about their plight.
“Now those who drink the water I shall give
Will never thirst, but rather they will live
By bubbling springs within their inner hearts.
They’ll know the joy of life, its secret arts!”
This bragging boy was making too much noise,
She’d have to call his bluff, disturb his poise.
“I’d like to taste this water, if you please,
So I can spend my life in pleasant ease.”
He did not hesitate or break the spell,
“Go home and bring your husband to the well.”
But she was loathe to end the game so soon,
“I have no man to call this afternoon” --
An open invitation he might catch
To ease and soothe that old delicious scratch.
The prophet Moses met his lady fair
While sitting at a well; they made a pair.
There Jacob too displayed his manly might,
As Rachel oohed and ahhed, thrilled by the sight.
But this one had some mischief up his sleeve,
And hidden plans he still had to achieve.
“You’re surely right to say you have no mate,
For you’ve had five so far, plus one of late
And he is not your spouse.” His charming guile
Enjoyed the shock that froze her winsome smile.
A silence flowed between them like a wave;
She felt an eerie terror of this knave.
There opened at her feet a canyon vast;
How could he know about her sordid past?
She changed her tack, she quit the merry chase.
There’s more to Annabel than pretty face!
You’ll soon find out that I’ve an angry bent,
And I will crush you in an argument.
The stranger seemed still willing to engage,
But he had touched upon a sullen rage
That scorned the petty masters of this earth
Because they would not hail her native worth.
“So now I see that you’re a Jewish seer!
Our parents worshiped on this mountain here,
But you insist our prayers are never heard.
Your Adonai considers us absurd;
While you from Zion call to God on High,
Who hears your pleas, obeys your every sigh.”
Astonished by her sudden shift of mood,
He wondered Where’s those fellows with the food?
I’ve got myself into a narrow scrape,
Entangled here with no way to escape.
And so he stood his ground, esteemed her thought,
Revered her wrath, Samaria distraught.
“Hear me, Woman, the day is coming when
No one will think that God belongs to men.
You will not worship here upon this hill,
Nor think that God resides in Judah still.
You worship what you do not understand;
But we know our salvation is at hand.
The hour is coming and is almost here,
When worshipers who pray with holy fear
Will honor God in spirit and in truth.
Tranquility will renovate their youth.
For God is Zeal and those who worship God,
In Zeal and Truth will suffer not his rod.”
An unfamiliar hope in her arose,
She dropped her wrath, let fall the angry pose.
No man had ever listened to her mind,
They’d always had contempt for womankind.
A private person deep inside she kept,
Who for Messiah longed, but now she wept,
“I know that on some distant day he’ll come
And introduce a new millennium,
The Christ-Anointed, whom the angels sing,
And he will tell us everything.”
Old Jacob’s well stood open like a pit,
A gaping hole that said, “You must commit.”
He stared into its depths; the smell of moss
Distressed his senses, reeked to him of loss,
A pungent premonition of the cross.
The crisis hour has come at last, he thought
The awful truth, her probity has bought.
“Dear Annabel,” his voice was soft and meek,
“Now I am he, the one of whom you speak!”
They sat awhile in fear and trembling caught,
And felt a surge of peace, a swift onslaught
Of limpid, perfect beauty in one soul;
Two sep’rate people, joined, entirely whole.
How long they sat enrapt, they could not say,
A moment or an hour, perhaps the day.
Abiding in that place, they passed the time.
Old Jacob’s well became a paradigm
Of Paradise, and they the happy pair
In peaceful solitude beyond compare.
With this encounter Jesus filled her thirst,
Displaced the other six, became her first.
Messiah was that seventh chosen man,
Revealing to her heaven’s holy plan.
She felt within her heart a growing swell,
From unexpected source, a living well
Of courage, confidence and trust.
To friends and neighbors, now the word she must
Announce and sing and dance, for heaven’s sake!
The woman they had known was just a fake;
Her truer self he had set free at last;
Disciple now, the wretched days were past!
Just then the Lord’s disciples came with bread,
And found this noted woman in their stead.
Iscariot complained, “She’ll want her pay.”
And Thomas moaned, “O Lord, that’s not the way.”
But no one spoke a word to them;
They lacked the strength, his customs to contemn.
Beside the musty well she left her jar,
On living water now she would go far.
Back to the town she went as courtesan,
Proclaiming to the world her Seventh Man.
“Come, see a man who showed me my whole life,
A story sad and full of endless strife;
But now I’ve seen myself as God sees me,
A complex dame of deep simplicity;
A thoughtful person, stupidly behaved,
I’m gen’rous, selfish, lying, honest, saved!
I cannot change the way I’ve lived before,
But I’ll abide with it, despair no more.
I’ve peered into a living well of bliss
And seen a startling truth, I will confess:
That I don’t have to be here in this world,
But holy grace and kindness simply hurled
Me into life with basic innocence;
Two gifts restored, despite my negligence.
I found him by the well; I played the flirt.
He teased me too; it’s fun, no one gets hurt.
He’s int’rested in me; we pass the time;
And then like lovers fight, is that a crime?
When all at once the conversation turned
To things sublime, and both our faces burned.
To love this man’s like playing in a fire;
He wants my all; he thirsts for my desire.
And yet I saw him stricken, terrified,
Enchanted with me, smitten, gratified;
He stood transfixed, bewildered, frightened too.
Delighted with me, rapt, without a clue;
And even then he had authority!
Do you suppose he can Messiah be?
Please come and tell me what you think of him.
Is he of men or fallen seraphim?”
So with that news the folks set out from town
To meet this Jesus, look him up and down.
Meanwhile, the Lord’s disciples made appeal
To eyes and nose and tongue -- a pleasant meal.
They said to Jesus, “Come, let’s pray and eat,
We’ve bought some bread and wine and sav’ry meat;
But he had lost his appetite for food,
While chatting with his friend in solitude.
He said to them, “I’ve eaten food supreme
Delightful fare, beyond your wildest dream.
I find my satisfaction in God’s work,
T’is labor that I would not care to shirk.”
Samaritans were streaming up the lane,
They hoped this living water to obtain;
They’d ask the stranger if he would abide;
Some thought that Annabel could be his bride.
And Jesus said, “The fields are ready now,
The harvester is passing up the plow!”
In two days time they told their Annabel,
“This man you met while drinking at the well,
He spoke to us and now we’ve seen enough,
Your “seventh man” is true, he is no bluff.
He knows our sinful ways have been perverse;
But to ourselves he’s friendly, not averse,
He must be Savior of the Universe.”
A wounded Jesus staggered out of town
Feeling less a savior than a clown.
He’d never meant to go into that place,
His mission was for members of his race,
But then this woman came and spoke to him.
What started as a lark, a moment’s whim
Had opened new dimensions of his task.
He could not disregard all those who ask
To know his name and search within his eyes.
The world was wider than his Jewish ties.
But open-hearted love cut like a knife --
He ached for Annabel to be his wife!
He could not greet the day with easy smile
For his chance meeting with a woman’s style
Of feeling, touching, knowing human fire
Had kindled in his heart a fierce desire.
He had to go, he knew he’d have no rest
Unless he followed at his God’s behest,
But now integrity would cost far more
Because he’d stumbled on a deeper core
Of every human longing for embrace,
The wrenching pleasures of a carnal race.
He had to turn from her to God above,
But could not think of life without her love.
The ice pick stab of longing in his chest
Attended every step and stalked his quest.
Would sacred love this stinging passion quell?
Perhaps he dared too much for Annabel.
Too oft-divorced, a fallen, wayward girl;
Would Abba lift her up, a precious pearl?
And yet he had been sent to folks like her,
And while they parleyed, felt affection’s stir!
He heard their names were mentioned in one breath.
He shuddered -- yet he loved her unto death.
How could a moment’s conversation cause
Such grief? A restful break, a simple pause?
Awhile that ancient itch had been relieved
But now his troubled brain was sorely grieved.
Meanwhile the woman followed close behind;
She joined his troupe, she thought she’d always find
A place where she could serve him from afar,
So long as his disciples did not bar
Her constant love of his divinity.
Jerusalem became her destiny.
“Forget your people and your father’s house”
The scriptures said as she became his spouse
In spirit – though she never touched his hand.
She lodged within their hidden God’s command.
At last there came a day when aching ceased,
Their restless, urgent hunger was appeased.
His mission focused in the dead of night.
Jerusalem the city hove in sight.
Intensely Jesus loved its stones and mud;
But he had come to purge it with his blood.
They called to mind the anguish they had known;
Never could their passion be disowned.
He would not hate a member of her race;
Her gentle features shown in every face.
He prayed serenely as his mortal foes
Beset his calm with fearsome blows.
She stood with other women as he turned
His pain to prayer, and yet his Father spurned
His cry for help. He searched the empty skies;
“I thirst” he said; she stepped before his eyes.
His dying gaze fell on his Annabel,
And as he stared again into her well
Of love, old Jacob’s pit abruptly streamed.
It surged within his heart – his boast redeemed.
The taunting mob he blessed and then he died.
His longing and her thirst were satisfied.
Fr Ken Bartsch, OFM Conv.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.