Jesus, prophet of justice,
knows the wrath of the mighty.
Jesus, lamb of God,
hears them sharpening their knives,
and chooses gentleness.
Even with his death rising on the horizon,
he gathers with his beloved
to celebrate the Passover,
the great feast of liberation,
the celebration of God’s overthrow
of the powers of oppression;
and he sings the song,
the song of dawn sung in the night,
the song prisoners sing,
the song that will lead them out,
that will save them and consume him.
(How did the hymn of freedom
become the threat of death?
Who hired this angel,
who sends us hunting for lambs?)
He sings the song,
but he changes the words.
The sacrifice is the flaw.
The need is the lie.
Your victim is always God.
The angel from your shadow has fled.
Put away your knives.
The only song is a love song.
He will climb up on the altar
of our violence and fear,
our bloodthirsty religion,
and rescue us from the god of our own unforgiveness,
and receive the blows with patience.
But first he will sit at the table with us,
with our knives under our cloaks,
and sing the song.
by Steve Garness-Holmes
0 Comments