Soul Kitchen – A Parable

Soul-KitchenJuly 6, 1971 – Los Angeles, CA

Two teenagers were sitting in a grungy coffee shop called the Soul Kitchen in south LA. One of them was weeping; the other was downcast. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things, a man in his thirties, a hippie, walked in and sat in the booth behind the teenagers. They did not recognize the man because of their bleary eyes.

The man overheard the teenagers conversation and asked, “What are you discussing together?”

They were shocked at the question. One of the teenagers asked, “Did you not see the news or read the papers? Are you from another planet, dude? Didn’t you hear about the thing that happened the other day?”

“What thing,” the man asked?

“About the Prophet. He died in Paris on Friday. The world couldn’t handle him. He was killed by the evil of this world. We thought he was the One. And the crazy thing is now they can’t find his body. Some people say he is not dead, but we saw the pictures. We heard the witnesses. But now some are saying he is alive. They even went to the morgue and the Prophet wasn’t there.”

“Man, you guys are dense,” the hippie man said. “Don’t you know that the Prophet wasn’t made for this ‘world’—that the Prophet is immortal and all the prophecies from all the Books have attested to this Truth. The Prophet cannot die.”

The young teenagers asked the man to sit with them at their table.

When the man sat with them, he ordered some French fries and a beer. After the fries arrived he gave thanks for his food and broke some of the larger fries and shared them with the teenagers.

After eating with the teenagers, suddenly their souls were opened and they realized that they were in the presence of the Prophet. They remembered the words from one of the ancient Psalms, “Well, I woke up this morning and got myself a beer” (RB 4:1).

Just then the man got up to leave and the teenagers asked, “Hey what’s your name?”


“John, what? What’s your last name?”

“Doe, John Doe.”

The teenagers were amazed. And the man disappeared from their sight.

Immediately, the teenagers got up and ran to find their friends. “It is true! The Prophet has risen, He is alive.” Then the two told what had happened at the coffee shop, and how the Prophet was recognized by them when he broke the French fry and drank the beer.”


© Paul Dordal, 2018


Morning Prayer (Poem)

incenseAt dawn I light the Dragon’s Blood,
And begin to sense a cleansing flood;
Wafting, upward, sweet Mystery;
“Be still.” I faintly perceive the Victory.

The soft bells ring and beat the sacred time,
Yet Silence speaks in wisps sublime.
The Bread made Word, a feast prepared;
“Arise weak man, your soul be aired!”

Then hefty gates swing wide – reveal,
An inner passage with sacred seal;
And sitting unkempt toes curled on floor,
He kneels before me? The Christ, the Door.

Now lifting, loving, dancing… … Selah.
I pause to feel the warmth of Fire;
Oh, Advocate, so tender, so sweet,
How blessed am I to wake and meet.

Speak! Speak! I bend my ear:
A whisper, a word, a command to hear.

“Go forth poor soul, with Love and Power,
To pray and work, from hour to hour.
Then once again you’ll receive your Host:
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

© Paul Dordal, 2015