Feb. 13–19 ❘ On the Mount

On the Mount

         Love your enemy.

I looked at the group seated
in the green field at mountain’s foot.
No Pharisees were present,
no impertinent scribes to quibble
over who merited the name “neighbor.”

         Bless those who curse you.
         Do good to those who hate you.

I thought of all the sinners we served,
blessed without reservation.
We ate with publicans,
drank with Samaritans.
Who was he rebuking?

         Pray for those who abuse
         and persecute you.

I shifted uneasily on stony ground.
Did he mean for us to pity
those he called hypocrites, millstones,
thieves who nested in the temple?

         Be perfect as your Heavenly Father,
         who loves the just and unjust,
         is perfect.

Might as well spin me into wool
and thread me through a needle.
My heart melted like mud in a downpour.
Maybe I was my own enemy.

Then, under the flood, bedrock:
         With God,
         all things are possible.

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