He came to Jesus at night and said, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.’ (John 3:2 NIVUK)
Then Nathanael declared, ‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.’ (John 1:49 NIVUK)
‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Jesus asked him. The blind man said, ‘Rabbi, I want to see.’ (Mark 10:51 NIVUK)
A roof of sky upheld by babbling Babel columns, their ends curled over into Doric swirls, like out-of- reach cinnamon buns, or unruly Grecian ringlets. Parthenon now standing open to the elements, pagoda green-roofed and tiled with Turkish slipper corners, or the one remaining wailing wall and the courtyard: empty but still bustling with the echoes of chords, both whipped and sung, the deep voices thrumming and the strange Jewish rabbi furiously whirling like a processional David, pent up expression dancing its way across the stone slabs, robe ribboning, decorum long flown, chased doves flapping up into the air, a forehead with beads of holy sweat caught glistening globes in the last rays of sun as true prayer finally finds its way home.
© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016
Photo from Pixabay