Publish the Word
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Yeshua -- 20, Sabbath

In the beginning. . .
was the word

 The Lord gave the word: great was the company of those that published it. Psalms 68:11


xx the Sabbath


They were winding down from the upper valley

     east of Jezreel to the plains' lush greens

and yellowing grains, Yeshua, his primary few,


cousins, brothers, indolent onlookers who

     trailed them, when they startled up a flock

of thieves pillaging a wheat field.  Such furious


squawking of bird curses, flurrying away -- what

     did the Mishnah say about harvesting dinner

on the Sabbath and did it apply to men starving?


The taxman, the zealot, the thunderous sons Yeshua

     loved stripped a handful of kernels.  What was

the sin, someone asked, if they ate at their leisure


without winnow or ground, a few sticky droplets

     of flavor?  Was it work, so narrowly defined?

Every question anticipates your answer by how


you ask, he might have said, but replied instead: 

     The Sabbath was made for man, not man

for the Sabbath.  A simple yes or no would do to


perk up the legalists among them; surely someone

     was taking notes.  Simon bar-Jonah had a goatskin

of sweet wine he wasn't sharing.  Ahead, a stand


of pomegranates was ripe for picking.  Sparrows

     of the air, Yeshua told them, sowers spreading

seed.  Thistles wild as promulgating bees or lilies,


weren't they something to behold?  The azure sky,

     billowing clouds like heaven's laundry -- he led

them, entranced, on into the dazzling afternoon.