Song:
Everything holds together, everything,
from stars that pierce the dark like living sparks,
to secret seeds that open every spring,
from spanning galaxies to spinning quarks,
everything holds together and coheres, unfolding from the centre whence it came.
And now that hidden heart of things appears, the first born of creation takes a name.
Poem:
“Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”
—Mark 7.28
Jesus may have meant it as a test, or a sly challenge,
or an ironic naming of existing biases;
or maybe he thoughtlessly repeated a racial slur
when he said dogs don’t get the children’s food.
It doesn’t matter to her. She has a witty rejoinder,
an irrefutable argument, a bit of verbal jujitsu.
She’s not arguing with reality,
or looking for a loophole in the laws of God.
She’s taking apart The Way We See Things,
for she knows there are cracks in it.
She’s arguing with Conventional Wisdom,
with What Everybody Knows—
for behind that is the actual truth,
the reality of God’s grace,
God’s kindness toward everyone.
Everyone.
She knows it’s there, hidden by our prejudices.
Whenever anyone tries to put a limit on grace, it’s fakery.
Poke right through it.
Even if it takes Jesus by surprise, he’ll love it.
