"Irony from Bethphage"
A clatter shot up from Bethphage
In the small town awoke a sage
A worn face stretched from its slumber
A lack of sleep he encumbered
The sun was high, laborers gone
Caring for sheep outside of town
The old man, from his napping chair,
At the intruders he did stare
“What are you doing?” he growled,
His face tight and clothed with a scowl
Taken aback, the rope they held
Around the colt instantly fell
“Apologies, sir, we were told
To hurry here and watch unfold
A gift be given from above
An escort to the Lord we love.
My name is John—I beg you sir—
She shall return so please defer
Donkey and colt as a transport
To our King and powerful Lord.”
His forehead wrinkled, “What was that?”
“Ne’er a king on donkey has sat!
Imposter! Fraud! So is your Lord
A King with pomp shall wield a sword
And press upon people his pow’r
And revel in his ivory tow’r.
No, you see, your mission’s a loss
To reign as king comes at a cost
Of humility—Pride shall cloth
A proper ruler like a robe.”
Expecting heads of them to hang—
What ignominy, fear, and shame—
And mouths of cour’ge, he thou’t he’d mamed
But shockingly, they did proclaim,
“Your point is good—I’ve thought it, too
A Son of David…and humble??...it’s crude!
Again, again, my mast’r’s replied.
‘A seed is nothing lest it dies.
And taking root it bears good fruit.’
About these things our master knew-it.
To spill his blood is why he came
Redeem the world is how he’ll save.”
Interjecting, all so soon,
Giving commands, fringing on rude,
“Hurry! Enough of this babble.”
Frantically, he threw on a saddle
Whisking them, denying a sound
Leave! He urged, “Across the far mound.”
With donkey and colt under stay
James and John went off on their way
Looking quite puzzled, John shot back,
To man who now animal lacked,
“Now we’re off, before we depart
Unfold, explain this change of heart?”
“About this King, I’ve heard before
A night so calm and full of lore
Angels appeared, glory they bore
Telling the dawn of King and Lord.
To my surprise, pomp was forlorn
Rejecting strength, a baby was born
Curtain of expectation torn
A child in dirty cloths now worn
It took some time, but now I see
How King is clothed, I shall not weep
Nor query nor moan nor despair
If King above with meekness share
Once again, pricked are pretensions
Of lowly stoop, most won’t mention
But I shall praise, and worship him
This God-Man, deliverer from sin."
