Greetje: New page: {{info}}Paul turned the right side of his face
Into the dark and took the case
He carried in his cloak, and found
The linen napkin folded ’round
The little flask of oil, wher...

2008-10-13T14:16:48Z

New page: {{info}}Paul turned the right side of his face Into the dark and took the case He carried in his cloak, and found The linen napkin folded ’round The little flask of oil, wher...

New page

{{info}}Paul turned the right side of his face Into the dark and took the case He carried in his cloak, and found The linen napkin folded ’round The little flask of oil, where none Could see. The constant tears had run Down to his chin and left their stain Like ashen stripes on cracked terrain. He wiped the stain, as he had done Ten thousand times before, till none Remained, then in the shadows held The open flask of oil, that smelled Like beaten olives crushed to make A healing ointment for the sake Of others crushed another way. He paused, and then discreetly lay His moistened fingers on the place That never healed, then took the case, And put it back, and said, “Let’s see, Now, Timothy, can you help me? Where were we when we stopped?” “You said Your father hoped to have, instead Of you, another kind of son That looked and sounded like the one He always dreamed would make his school A famous place. You said that ‘fool’ Is what he called you once, and that Is why he named you Saul. You sat And studied at the feet of old Rabbi Gamaliel who told You once that you could be the best Rabbi in Israel and blessed Above them all, if you would use Your gifted mind and will, and choose Your books to be your friends. He said God gave you mental brawn instead Of looks, and someday you would put A stop to foolish claims afoot In Israel that heaven’s king Had come. You said, against the sting Of shame outside, you built a wall Around your Law and pride and all Your books.” Paul smiled, with his good side, And said, “You listen well. I tried To live inside that wall with books, And never stopping by the brooks To look down at my face, content To be the best—in vain. I spent More hours than Gamaliel Would ever know under the spell Of two angelic faces in My youth.” Paul stopped and felt his chin To see if he should wipe his face, Then said, “It was a lonely place Inside that wall.” He glanced across Where Eunice sat enthralled. “The loss Of love is like a hollowing Inside the tree of life. You cling, And then let go, and feel how great The tree of love had grown. The weight Of empty space is heavier Than all the trunk and branches were When she was there.” Paul stared somewhere Beyond the lantern light. The air Was thick with eagerness. “Was there A woman?” Eunice asked, with bare And simple words. “I never thought Of her that way. A ''woman ''ought To be grown up. But we were not Yet twenty-one. There were a lot Of girls around Gamaliel’s school, Because he had the finest pool Of single Pharisees where they Could fish. But there was one who, day By day, would work her kitchen rounds And then read Torah to the sounds Of her own melodies. Most girls Did not know how to read. Their curls Meant more to them than Moses did. But not Tashuka. Oft I hid Behind a wall or bush to look, Or listen, as she sang the book. And after months of this, I put, At last, a letter at the foot Of one great terebinth where she Would often sit. It said, ‘This tree Above is like the Law to me, Because within its shade I see More beauty than in all the fields Beyond. And there is none that yields A sweeter fruit to bless so well The garden of Gamaliel. Please know, Tashuka, one there is Who studies in these walls, and his Desire is that someday, beyond All dreams and hope, you might respond, And, trembling in that very place Alone, we might stand face to face.’ 

For three long months I put a note There every day, and what I wrote Was all my heart, in hope that she Would love the Saul that she could see In letters first, before she saw My face. I hoped my zeal for Law And God would be enough to win Her love in spite of looks and skin. And then one day I saw her lay A note there by the tree and stay For just a moment. Then she left. I watched, as if I plotted theft, And stole the letter silently, And took it to my room, and there Among my books and parchments, where I lived so safe, and so esteemed, And so alone, I sat and dreamed What she might say. At last I cut The seal and read, ‘Dear sir, you shut Yourself away, unseen, unnamed, Concealed, as if you were ashamed. There is no need for that. All I Can see are worthy reasons why You should stand forth. I would suggest, Dear sir, put me now to the test, And in my customary place Make your proposal face to face.’ And so with fear and trembling I Prepared myself and prayed that my Right eye one hour would be dry, And my lips not so weak when I Attempt to speak. I saw her come At her appointed time. My numb And reddened cheek was hot. She turned As I appeared. My body burned With fear and blazing hope. I said, ‘Tashuka, I am Saul. I read Your letter. Thank you, that you came.’ But as she stared at me, the shame Increased with every second till She turned and left me standing still With flowers in my shaking hand. I’ve traveled through the Sacred Land A hundred times, and never met Her once since then.” Sad tears had wet The face of Eunice as she heard The story of Paul’s loss. She stirred The cup in front of her, unsure What she should say. “I’m sorry. You’re Worth more than that,” she said. Then Paul Replied, “The mortar in the wall Around my lonely soul was mixed, I think, with too much notice fixed On worth and not enough on grace. I saw this in another face, And everything I’d built began To fall.” So Eunice asked, “And can You tell us whose it was—this face So powerful that we can trace To it the fall of all your world?” “About a year went by. Then swirled A storm of controversy in Jerusalem. There had not been Such fury since the day we killed The Lord. And finally it spilled Beyond what anyone had seen For years, and filled the court with mean And raging men, including me, Though I was but a youth. And we Were driven to this rage by one Whose humble face shown like the sun, And said that Jesus was alive, And that our Law, and how we strive, And worship with our feasts, And sacrifice our flawless beasts Was coming to an end, and all That we must do is trust, and call Upon the mercy of the Lord. I knew if this was true, a sword Would pierce the city of my soul And lay in ruins ev’ry goal I had, and overthrow my birth, My pride, and all my vaunted worth. And so I gathered at my feet The garments of the most elite In righteousness as they stoned him To death. And then, when ev’ry limb Of Stephen’s body quivered in The agony of death, the sin Of all my righteousness appeared For one brief moment. Killers cleared Away, and I saw Stephen’s face, The right side torn away, and grace Filled all the rest. And with the lips That he had left he said, ‘Though whips And stones destroy this flesh, I know That my redeemer lives. I go. Behold the Son of Man has stood, And counts this sinner Stephen good! However great their sin amount, Christ, lay it not to their account.’ The wall was breached, and though I raged To keep myself with Law encaged, The power of his shredded face Would prove to be triumphant grace.”

There’s one more chapter, Timothy, Of what God had to do to me To free me from myself, and give Me peace with who I am, to live In freedom from the looking glass, To let the stares of others pass, And ponder not incessantly That I am seen, but that I see.”

O candle two, ignite this truth And burn it into every youth: The love we need is not the kind That comes to us and tries to find Some worth or beauty that can keep The lover true. No, we must sweep All self-exalting loves away. One kind of love alone will stay, And it is not the kind that needs Our worth or beauty or good deeds, But intercedes for us and dies When there is nothing here but lies. The love that, as we kill, it cries, “Lord, make these enemies your prize.”

Paul's Face, Part 2 - Revision history

Greetje: New page: {{info}}Paul turned the right side of his faceInto the dark and took the caseHe carried in his cloak, and foundThe linen napkin folded ’roundThe little flask of oil, wher...

Greetje: New page: {{info}}Paul turned the right side of his face
Into the dark and took the case
He carried in his cloak, and found
The linen napkin folded ’round
The little flask of oil, wher...