Of the moment

Not a NaPoWriMo prompt poem, but a poem nonetheless, completely rough and raw and essentially unedited, as are most of the poems I publish here.

Palm Dualities

He answered not a word, such that the governor marveled greatly.
Had it been me,
I would have argued and defended and persuaded,
then possibly cursed, as is my wont, when things go wrong.
He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and he opened not his mouth.
I would have bitched and moaned and carried on
to the point of embarrassment, most likely.
Or if I had his power, I would have zapped them all,
just to show them I could.
Jesus does what we do not expect him to do.
I want answers to my prayers.
Instead of answers, he provides silence.
I want action and revolution.
Instead, he gives us the cross.

What is this crap? This isn’t what I wanted.
God gives us not what we want, but what we need.
Even Jesus asked for the cup to pass from him.
And God answered him with silence.

My will leads to disappointment.
Thy will leads to Easter.
I have trouble remembering that. I fear pain.
I do not want any change that leads to pain.
We seek to change our circumstances.
He seeks to change us.
But God, the problem is what I see out the window!
No, child, the problem is what you see in the mirror.

On Palm Sunday, we wave palms and process, socialize and sing.
Then ten minutes later we crucify him;
aloud we tell Judas to shove his silver, it’s his problem now;
aloud we call for Barabbas instead;
aloud we assure Pilate we’ll take full responsibility for this travesty,
His blood is on our hands, now get on with it.
My god, my god, no wonder you’ve forsaken us.
But God does not do what we expect him to do.


[inspired by Palm Sunday service; with many lines borrowed from sermon by Fr. SS]