The most appalling form of unbelief
Fills the air of temples
With stadium seating
Like vast operating rooms
With surgeon preachers
Extracting the humanity of God
Amputating the incarnation
The blood of all our children
Splattered in mystical realms
They mutilate with good intention
Like the blood letting of ancient medicine
But it’s still death
As they drain the humanity
And with it the divinity
Leaving a space to be filled
By Oprah, Dr. Phil
Or the religious equivalent
For what is God without?
Identification
Affirmation
Affection
For the fleshly canvas of the created
Unto us a child is born
Laid into the arms of the God seeking
An airy bundle of nothing
Swaddled with sentimentality
Nursing at the breast of indoctrination
A vague, spiritual but spiritless god
Still born without breath
And the sons and daughters of God
Choke on the deception
Raising there hands and praising
An empty shell
Nothing
© 2007 Tad Monroe. This poem may not be reprinted without permission from the author.
Tad Monroe
a portly pastor poet in Tacoma, Washington
co-founder and director of City of Destiny Faith and Film series
takes comfort in the fact that The Dude abides...
12 year old scotch or PBR, both acceptable and enjoyable
Comments (2)
Wow. This poem hit me hard...I'm still processing. It's forcing me to think about my tendency to make God manageable, to make him fit into my own post-modern watered-down spirituality. Your words, especially the image of the still-born Jesus, will definitely stick with me.
Posted by Mary Dewey | November 19, 2007 5:05 PM
Posted on November 19, 2007 17:05
Mary, thanks for your comment. It is a very visceral poem for me as well. I felt very angry and sad when I wrote it. I feared it might be "over the top"; poetry is often best when it is subtle. This poem is anything but that, what makes it work (I think) is the power of the metaphor and image which is so concrete and disturbing.
Posted by Tad Monroe | November 19, 2007 8:42 PM
Posted on November 19, 2007 20:42