It has been a great class, full of deep dives into Greek words and church history and Paul's theology, which can be summarized as Proclaim Christ Crucified. We even had a fun digression into what we would proclaim--I find it problematic to proclaim Christ Crucified. Christ incarnate, yes. Christ risen from the dead, yes. But crucified? That's the most important thing?
The cross means something very different for Paul than it does for me. The cross as a symbol/shortcut does something very different for Paul. I get that.
We talked about not knowing how Paul died, not for sure. Church custom/tradition posits that it's likely that he died in Rome, executed by Emperor Nero. But it's also possible that he left Rome and continued onward to Spain.
A random thought floated through my brain on Thursday: that would make a good poem, Paul in Spain, late in life. By yesterday morning, I decided to jot down some lines, and voila! A poem emerged, mostly formed.
Here's how it begins:
Paul slices citrus for sangria,
oranges and lemons plucked
from trees in the lingering light
of a late October evening.
Who would have dreamed or demanded
such a soft landing?
This morning I thought, oh dead, when does citrus ripen in Spain? I chose "late October evening" because Paul is in the late autumn of his life. Happily, a quick search this morning shows the detail can work--and even had I discovered that it didn't, I'd have probably kept it.
The poem ends this way:
Safe for now, he pours the sangria
and waits for the sun to set.
I do worry that the poem is cliched, and I also worry that it won't be interesting to non-Christian readers. But we all age, and this poem looks at aging. By using Paul as the vehicle, maybe it does say something new.
I'll put it away and look at it again later this week. But I am happy to have created a poem the way I once did: an idea comes and within 24 hours, I'm attempting a poem and seeing it to completion. Hurrah!
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