Woe to You
He invited the teacher to dinner
In a pious show of hospitality;
“But not washing?” He thought him a sinner;
"A dirty messiah? How could he be?"
When the scribes claimed he was being too hard,
He opened the door to their brutality--
Who rather than unlock, hindered and barred;
Instead of loosing the lock, losing the key.
The honor you lust, is as unmarked graves
Woe to you who wash in that devotion;
Shackled to self, you’ll sink 'neath those waves
Swallowed by night in pride's pitiless ocean.
But in the dirt of his death, becoming sin, He makes right
Washes free the tomb’s terror, and floods us in light.
© Randy Edwards 2017
Artist: James Tissot, Malheur à vous, scribes et pharisiens (Woe unto You, Scribes and Pharisees), between 1886 and 1894, opaque watercolor.