This page is dedicated for selected readings and writings of our
members.
Jesus Was a Teacher
Then Jesus took His disciples up the mountain, and gathering
them around Him He taught them saying:
- Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs
is the kingdom of Heaven.
- Blessed are the meek
- Blessed are they that mourn
- Blessed are the merciful
- Blessed are they that thirst for justice
- Blessed are they when persecuted
- Blessed are you when you suffer
- Be glad and rejoice for your reward is great
in heaven.
Then Simon Peter said, “Are we supposed to know this?”
And Andrew said, “Do we have to write this down?”
And James said, “Will we have a test on this?”
And Phillip said, “I don’t have any paper.”
And Bartholomew said, “Do we have to turn this in?”
And Nathaniel said, “How do you spell it?”
And Matthew said, “May I go to the bathroom?”
And Judas said, “What does this have to do with real life?”
Then one of the Pharisees who was present asked to see Jesus’
lesson plan, and inquired of Jesus, “Where is your anticipatory
set and your objectives in the cognitive domain?”
Jesus Wept.
Goddess Is
I would be the provender of your life
I am the smile that carries you forward
I am the dream that fills your night
That feeds your memory of time past,
And, alludes to what is to come.
I am the essence of the stars in the darkness
The light that smiles in the rain
I am the journey that embodies your dreamscape
The bread of your soul, the breath of your moment
The Betrothed of your invention.
I am the worth of humanity as it travels time
The fortune of thought as you aspire
I am the vision of the dance, the movement of privilege
The colors separate that blend to form light The obscurity that
defines.
I am the breast of the mother
Fluid and fulfilling, giving and subsuming
As it seeks to connect
Complete and depleted, continuous and bound
Harmoniously diminished, recreates to provide.
I am love without challenge, manifest and accomplished
Visceral, instinctive — flowing to your mouth
The kiss that feeds and that replenishes
I am honor indentured to remain, when
Those who do not believe have gone.
I am you reflected, the “negative” photographed
Where dark becomes light and reveals,
Forged in night’s corner the shadow cast in deepest black
I am “The Truth” housed in the singing stones.
My sand drifts with the tide, becomes, expands, recedes.
My hand reaches without return to sustain
And, my shore remains ever to be embraced.
Copyright©1996, 2000 Linda Mansfield
