What made you think I would tolerate your religion?
What caused you to believe that you were given permission to rustle up rules and regulations and herd spirituality into some stinky-hole corral of repetition?
Did you forget how I mocked the traditions of men when I walked among the Jews? I ridiculed their ceremony and chided them for their elaborate clothing, flaunting their position.
Therefore, will I accept your garb of garbled expression, touting sacrifice, or worse, supremacy?
- Wash your hands? No, thank you
- Fast? I am a glutton.
- Pray? Only in my closet of privacy.
- Stone that harlot? I do not condemn her.
- Worship the temple? I shall tear it down.
I am nauseated by your praise without heart. They are words of explanation without meaning, droned in somber tones to establish solemnity.
Blind from your eyes plucked by bouts with vengeance.
Toothless, pleading for your mother’s milk.
Calling one another Master, Reverend, Bishop, Cardinal, Pope.
Yes, Pope.
Did you forget it was the Jewish Pope, Caiaphas, who condemned me to death, using the Roman puppet to act out the violent, fool-hardy charade?
It is as if the Pharisees have hijacked my work instead of the mission being heralded by cleansed lepers, freed whores and liberated Gentiles, dancing for joy.
You have taken the pages of my words and turned off the light, to revere the book and ignore the context.
When you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you are cannibals because you ignore my mind and reject my heart.
There are no kings.
There are no serfs.
You are drunk on your own swill of piety.
As I told the daughters of Jerusalem, your house is left desolate. It is a tomb, displaying silence as the evidence of a slaughtered hope.
I was here.
Did you fail to learn of my actions?
I despise those who feel they are better than others, even if they can recite a litany of their righteous deeds.
I never knew you.
I don’t want to know you.
You cannot imprison my healing virtue in the torture chamber of your tiny vision and narrow mind.
I am the wind. I will blow where I desire.
I will find liberty and immerse my efforts in the waters of freedom.
You have found the heaviest burdens and laid them on the shoulders of broken travelers.
You have made my name weary when it was meant to produce rest.
I hate your religion.
I shall create again, calling new souls … and bring your efforts to nought.
Jonathots Daily Blog 