Rude Jesus

Blunt, rude and offensive,
so not the simply winsome man
I had presumed as a teen.

On course, I do not know
how much he said
or earliest church gospellers
thought he said, or told he said,
or wanted him to have said.
or thought the spirit tell he said.

But curt frequency suggests
there is verisimilitude;
whited sepulchres, too good a phrase
describing worst religion’s haze,
the smog hypocrisy that dims the light
and barriers peace, hope and love.

Mat man, I read, was told to walk
but likely to his rest resumed,
unflattered that this one dare speak
to him that way, who was so old.
The foreign woman, requesting whole,
is told to wait, wag puppy tail;
although she gives as good as get
and so unlocks said miracle.

Blind man is sent through the crowds
dripping mud and spit from brows,
leader’s daughter mourned for cash
all sent packing, given push.
Even parents dealt poor hand
when outside, waiting in the sand.

Disciples get the harsher tongue,
always told they’d had more time,
so really should have more than clue
who he is and what to do;
in Galilean carnival
thus this man is critical.
Who is this Jesus, rood man?

Published in ‘Words from the Wall’, May 2024