It is the custom of a town
To allow a mock priest
To dispense sacraments
And bless the poor
And pray for prosperity
So that God would look kindly on the town,
And when the real priest returns
He is expected to continue the good work.
The villagers ask the question; what good is it if the priest says he has faith but does not have works? Can his faith save us? A poor person is often told by the priest to go in peace, be warmed and be filled. But if faith does not have works, it is dead.
Wrong Signs of the Times
All kings are responsible
For good weather to ensure good harvesting
And should the weathers fail
The kings pay with their lives,
And over time
There were less and less kings
Until there were none
And then meteorologists took over.
When it is evening, the kings used to say ‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.’ And in the morning, ‘It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening.’ They knew know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but not interpret the signs of the times.
Blood on Bone
It was believed in an ancient city
That before misfortune befell it
The protector could sacrifice his only son
And doom will be prevented,
But one year a tornado came
And the son was sacrificed
And still they came one after another
And the city was totally destroyed. And in the aftermath the protector slashed his arms and he sprinkled his blood on the city’s ruins and all that lay on the ground. Indeed, under the city’s law almost everything could be purified with blood, for without the shedding of blood there is no telling of the misfortune.
The Dance of the Money Swans
At the stock exchange
Investors, so as to induce profit
Would mimic the red numbers
Fluctuating on the giant screen
By rising and falling
As if swans in Swan Lake
Prostrate on the floor for long periods
Or dancing in the air.
After a long day and as the investors were nearing their homes, their families and friends would come out from behind high fences in the suburbs to meet them. And they were singing and dancing, with tambourines, with songs of joy, and with musical instruments.
The Gab from the Cob
A stalk of sweet corn had grown in concrete
In the midst of a crowded city,
And people thronged around it
And they pondered its significance
Wondering why it grew there
When corn on the cob is found
Wrapped in plastic
At the supermarket.
And when the city people had gathered together almost trampling one another, the cob spoke, “Nothing is covered up that isn’t revealed, or hidden that isn’t known. Whatever is said in the dark shall be heard in the light, and what is whispered in private rooms shall be proclaimed in the supermarket aisles.”
A Good Rains a Gonna Fall
They’d had enough of long drought
In the Outback
And strung up a bearded man
Who walked in stubbies and thongs
Calling himself Adonis Messiah
Telling anyone who would listen
It will rain if they believed him,
And it did.
For this one speaks in a tongue which speaks of the mysteries of the weather. When he prophesies he speaks to the people for their encouragement and consolation. He can’t help but boost his standing when he speaks like this. And he who prophesies and speaks in tongues has mastery of both himself and the weather.