Lying here, beside the road to Jericho,

beaten and bloody, thirsty, barely conscious

I wonder – is there no one, no neighbor?

I see someone coming – a priest;

he looks at me, I know he sees,

but he gathers his robes about him

and crosses the road.

I hear footsteps – is there hope after all?

But it is a righteous man, a Levite, 

a leader in the synagogue; 

he gives me a look of disdain,

this is surely my own fault –

and goes around my bleeding body. 

I have about given up – I am weak,

my lips are parched, night is falling.

I hear a donkey’s hooves;

I don’t even raise my head – 

he will surely pass me by as well.

But no, he stops, he cares, he gives me water,

he puts me on his donkey,

takes me to the inn, provides for me. 

My people have always scorned the Samaritan,

but it was he who was my neighbor. 

 

Jesus told this story – like all his parables,

it is an analogy for all time.

The road to Jericho was rocky, a place for robbers to hide.

Jesus’ audience would have thought it was the man’s own fault.

The priest stands for every priest, pastor, preacher, 

television evangelist, evangelical leader, or saint –

who has ever treasured purity – of self, church, or nation –

at the expense of the hurting, the wounded, the outcast.

The Levite is the saintly leader in the church

who cannot be bothered with the wounds of humanity,

who follows the letter of the law, to the harm of God’s children.

The wounded man is the outcast, the poor, the immigrant,

the LGBTQ community, all those being hurt. 

The Samaritan is the outcast, who may just save us all.

 

And now I ask, as Jesus did,

Who is neighbor to hurting humanity?

Are you priest, Levite, or Samaritan?

Who is your neighbor?

Joyce Alexander, 5-5-19

Lent, 2019, A Prayer

God, 

We come into this time,

this season of Lent,

feeling betrayed,

broken-hearted,

hurting.

 

But you, God,

do your best work

in our brokenness,

through our pain.

 

Use our brokenness

to let your light

shine into our hearts –

Then take that light

to heal

those who are hurting

in this sad, broken world.

Amen.

Joyce Alexander, 3-6-2019

Let us go down, down to the river –

to the sweet, cool waters

of the Jordan!

Let us go down and pray – pray by the river

where the Spirit moves the waters

of the Jordan!

Bring your brother and your sister;

let God’s peace bring us together

in the lovely waters

of the Jordan!

Jesus joins us by the river,

washes all our sins away

flowing out the waters

of the Jordan!

The Spirit moves us, gives us power

moving through the waters,

of the Jordan!

Come to the river,

pray by the river,

bathe your soul in the river –

in the waters

of the Jordan!

Joyce Alexander, 11/13/11

Baptismal renewal in the Jordan River

Paul and his companions

expected to find a group

of devout Jewish men

praying by the river.

 

Instead, they found

a group of women

praying by the river,

women, led by a woman.

 

Her name was Lydia,

and she defied convention –

she was a leader,

she was a merchant,

head of her own household,

and she was a Gentile.

 

Saul, the Pharisee, 

would never have spoken to her,

he would have walked away,

considered her an outcast,

a foreigner, a breaker of the rules.

 

But now, he was Paul, the Apostle,

and he knew the Sprit’s movement

when he saw it.

And he saw it in this woman –

and he shared the Gospel of Jesus,

the truly good news that Jesus

includes outcasts, foreigners,

the breakers of rules,

the good news of love.

 

And there, by the river,

all Lydia’s household, and her friends,

were baptized – and thus began

the church that met at Lydia’s house,

in Phillippi – the first church in Macedonia.

 

And you and I,

would we turn and walk away?

Or would we include this woman,

this foreigner who defied convention,

this breaker of the rules?

Would we follow the Spirit?

Would we love?

Joyce Alexander, 11-30-2018

 

You can drown in shallow water –

but you cannot float.

Oh, shallow water is fine

for splashing on a sunny day,

but when the clouds come,

when darkness comes,

you cannot float,

but you can surely drown.

 

You can drown in shallow religion –

but it will not sustain you.

Oh, shallow religion is fine

for singing on a sunny day,

but when the darkness comes,

when storm clouds gather,

you will not be sustained,

you will surely drown.

 

Shallow religion –

is what the prophets warned of

when the Israelites gave burnt offerings

then left the temple

to cheat widows and the poor. 

 

Shallow religion –

is what we do, 

when we go to church on Sunday

and forget Jesus all week,

and neglect the hungry and the poor.

 

Shallow religion –

is when you read the Bible

on the surface,

you may even memorize passages,

but never study its depths.

 

But genuine faith?

That is very different.

Faith questions and doubts and grows,

and in learning goes deeper.

Faith studies and hopes and loves,

and seeing God in every stranger,

faith gets deeper.

Faith will give you strength

through the storms –

in faith – like in the Dead Sea –

you can surely float. 

Joyce Alexander, 11-20-18

God Grieves

After disasters, after 9/11, 

after Katrina, Irma, Maria, Michael,

I have sensed an overwhelming grief,

God’s grief for his beloved children. 

God is with us – in our grief. 

 

But I think, like a loving parent,

God also grieves

when we behave badly –

when we hate or exclude, 

or build churches based

on “human traditions” and un-grace.

 

God grieves –

when we fear the poor,

exclude those who are different,

when we hate those of other ethnicities,

those of different colors, religions,

or orientations.

 

God grieves –

anytime we neglect the needy,

fail to feed the hungry,

and when we elect people 

based on our own fear, hate, 

white supremacy, and greed.

 

But I continue to hold on

to hope and joy,

for God also smiles –

when we love and care for others,

God smiles –

 

Oh, God doesn’t love us

more or less for it –

but when we love,

when we sparkle, God smiles.

 

Remember Camelot?

In the closing lines,

Arthur says we are each less than a drop

“in the great, blue motion of the sunlit sea.

But it seems that some of the drops sparkle”

“Some of them do sparkle.”

 

Let us be drops that sparkle,

people who love

and care, and hope,

and make God smile.