The party begins
First Sunday back and it’s all about an abundance of great wine.
500 litres of awesome wine. Not mid-shelf stuff. Top shelf where I never look because
I don’t have that kind of money. Provided for a gathering of whanau
and friends in a small poor community in the middle of nowhere. People whose
lives are defined by back breaking poverty and deprivation, surviving from day
to day, who have gathered with their meager koha to celebrate this new
beginning and all the hopes that held. For these days they will forget that life
is not as they hoped and they will enjoy each other and what food and wine they
have gathered. Jesus’ mum is there out the back with the other ringa wera keeping
it going. But too soon the wine has gone and the party will end. Reality will bight. Celebration to lamentation is one breath. Except Jesus’
mum does her best to fulfil her role and suggests Jesus might be able to help
out. And he helps out. 500 litres of the best wine. That party was not stopping
any time soon.
And so it
begins
this grace
upon grace
that came
when
the Word
became flesh
and tented
among us.
This is an
abundance of grace
grace to
swim in
to lounge back
and dream
another world.
Grace
that tastes
so fine
and lingers
on the
tongue with
sweet
afternotes
poured out
for those
who
wax eloquent
about
château-de-cardboard.
An
abundance
for those
for whom
a drop
might
have been enough.
An abundance
that leaves
all changed
The party
begins
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