Hand Cream

If you look up Messiah it says
something about being anointed.
If you look up anointed it says
something about smearing or rubbing
oil or unguents. If you look up unguents
it says they’re like ointments or salves.
Jesus Salves would be a great name
for a hand cream, I believe. I believe
hand eczema is one of a dozen
skin diseases that got lumped together
under leprosy in the New Testament.
I believe a little hand cream everyday
goes a long way toward healing dry skin,
and if you squeeze the tube a little too hard
and too much unguent squirts out,
you can do what Jesus did: spread
the wealth around, anoint yourself and
others, rub some on your forearms
and their forearms, on their faces and tired
necks and shoulders and backs, the whole
body of Christ. If you look up holiness
it says something about being set apart
for sanctification. If you look up sanctification
it says something about being set apart
for holiness. One hand washing the other
just like in Jesus’ day. But if you look up
salvation, surprisingly it doesn’t say anything
about Jesus, or salves, or the Messiah.
It talks about our liberation from clinging
to the world of appearances, and the illusions
of sickness, pain, and death. A final, joyful
union with ultimate reality. Really good stuff.

Tagged as: jesus salves, paul hostovsky, poem