Brian Hohmeier

At Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night, and God said, “Ask what I should give you.” (v. 5)

Wishes are wonderful — and mostly imaginary. Those of us who remember back in the day when the arrival of the Sears catalog was a big deal may remember circling items as a sort of wish list. After all, who hasn’t at one time, or another wished their wish — or wishes — would come true? But of course, in any good story about wishes, there are limitations, a catch, or a twist. Remember. Wishes are tricky.

1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14
One of Aesop’s fables is about a turtle who envied the ducks who swam in the pond where he lived. He heard their stories describing the wonders of the world that they had seen, and he was filled with a great desire to travel. Being a turtle, though, he was unable to travel far. Finally, two ducks offered to help him. One of the ducks said, “We will each hold an end of a stick in our mouths. You hold the stick in your mouth. We will carry you through the air so that you can see what we see when we fly. But be quiet or you will be sorry.”

Roly Poly Prickle was in something of a mess. His mother had warned him never to go near the rubbish bins in the park, but Roly Poly had been curious. He knew that human beings threw things away in the rubbish bins, and he wanted to know exactly what it was they threw away. So he scurried along on his four short legs as quickly as he could, keeping out of the way of park keepers and other awkward people.

There was no warning. One moment, busy afternoon rush hour crowds were bustling in and out of the subway terminal. Men and women of various ages, carrying briefcases, shopping bags, backpacks and young children, brushed determinedly past one another on their way to and from countless locations. A group of tourists with floral print shirts and cameras craned their necks to take in the vaulted ceilings and marble pillars of the old 96th Street terminal as they descended into its artificially lit atmosphere.

(See Epiphany 4/Ordinary Time 4, Cycle B, for an alternative approach.)

Psalm 111 is a carefully crafted, alphabetic acrostic. The subject of the acrostic is the praise of God, for all that God is and does. This theme is developed by 22 lines of Hebrew poetry, each one of which begins with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The content of this psalm makes it very clear that it was written by someone who wanted to give thankful testimony about God's goodness to the worshiping community.

This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world ... Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.
-- John 6:51, 54

John Harding had it all; his credentials were impeccable. He had a wonderful family. His wife, Sally, was one of those people everyone enjoys meeting. His eight-year-old son, Rick, was a good student, enjoyed athletics, and obeyed his parents. John himself had moved up the corporate ladder. After graduating from Arizona State University, where he played baseball well enough to be offered a professional contract, he moved to California's "Silicon Valley" and signed on with one of the many software companies with headquarters in the region.

In three swift verses, the succession is accomplished, finally. And David sleeps with his fathers and is buried in the city of David. Our prayer for David, companion in these past weeks, is that David sleeps, at last, in peace. For in those last years, David is so advanced in years, so old, that he cannot get warm. They cover him with clothes, but he does not get warm. They bring him a young maiden to lie beside him, but he does not get warm. I imagine David shivers in the knowledge of all that his life has taught him, the hard way.