These are the facts, nothing here but the facts. I was on the road to Damascus via a street in the West Village in New York City, when, in an instant, barometric pressure had dropped 100 MB. Darkness enveloped an eleven-o’clock-morning sun. It may have been a trick of the mind, or some kind of serious panic disorder. Although I could no longer see, I pictured myself a child on a visit to my great grandmother's house in La Salle, Illinois. In my head I felt as though a tornado was approaching...
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REPENTANCE Darling! Oh my Darling, What an awful thing I have done. I have overslept; made you wait. Pray. What now my punishment?
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ONSLAUGHT Too much history, Decade after decade, year after year, With me subject to the merciless attack of the clock. Last night and into the dawn, wide-awake, Sleepless, watching the walls record the extending bright, Feeling that I have begun to crack all over, like an antique jar. Then at noon at last a nap, I arise again as the magnified voice of a late-day Call to prayer increasingly pours over the open window sill And fills the room. “We all owe death a life.”
WHAT HOPE OF MIRACLE! Darling, can it really be true? Had we been so wanton in our disorder? All I remember – it was a Tuesday, And very warm for the end of January. In our house we smashed all the crystal goblets And then proceeded to break each and every bottle, The vintage spilled out on the floor; It stained and then sunk into the old wooden boards. And at this point what does it matter? Remember the story when Jesus at the wedding feast in Cana Honored His mother’s request and turned water into wine. The party had run out of the number one liquid staple. At first His order seemed inappropriate: Six great jars filled to the brim (more than a hundred gallons), Many in the party wondered aloud How preparations for a ritual bath Might pertain to there being no wine for the wedding feast.
Then Jesus told the servants, ‘Now draw some out...” He had them take the draft to the chief steward for tasting. And lo and behold now the new question Instead of first, why had the best been served last? Would such miracle do us any good? Look around. Shards of glass surround us, Just shattered cups, and bottles whose necks are broken. All bounty meaningless, When nothing left, no vessel remains to contain it, Yet Mercy attends and announces His ministry.
