Holy Vampire, who dies on a wooden stake only to come back to life, is there anything else needing to be covered in blood? Forty deaths in Atlanta? Sixty-three in Chicago? Imagine: the blood of one hundred and three sprinkling the asphalt over the weekend. Do you have any new, less bloody, covenants up Your sleeve? Amen.
God who comes and Toots His Own Holy Horn, where angels call and the faces of earth's multitude turn Heavenward with the crossed-fingered, hope of rising first, with those desirous, and who hold the ticket of their small faith, of taking a trip on a cloud like a Disney ride, to the Lord's Forever-Ever-Land, ...Bah! And boo, boo, boo! You know the Plan. No one goes until everybody goes. The notion of The Elect, Your Holy Elect, kills the least of these over and over and over again and again and again. Speak plainly. Mean the words of the mountaintop. Stay with us. Amen.
God, clother of Adam & Eve God, designer of the mark written on Cain God, gifter of the rainbow God, appointer of Abraham God, stayer of the hand of the slayer of son Isaac God, chooser of Joseph, God, creator of kings, how can a newly created king not know of Joseph? Shouldn't the lack of knowledge turn people into blathering idiots who only know how to follow and how to be slaves? Why do idiocy and stupidity seem to always take the thrones of condemnation and carelessness? Do you, God, get some perverse pleasure out of the rare instances where powerlessness prevails over power? Sure, the names of the powerlessness ring across the history of humanity but the names of those wiped away with the wave of a hand by those in power are more numerous than grains of sand on Crescent Beach and more numerous than the countless stars in the universe and, horrifically, forgotten. God of upside down power and God of upended numbers, the multitudes cry out, Save us! Amen.
God who counts the dust, grains of sand and hairs on our heads, the stars and our descendants, your desire for perfect perfection, seven times seven, heartens and emboldens. If week after week after week after week after week after week after week may be made complete in your eyes, then as this week moves towards its sabbath count this week as one week complete. Amen.
God of all ages, God of the child who Jesus takes into his arms declaring, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me," why, then, do Jesus' followers watch, teach and ask that child to become a young human that wraps up dead bodies, carries dead bodies, and buries dead bodies, bodies created by the church? I am done watching bodies wrapped up, carried out and buried in the ground, out of sight, out of mind. Too many young children have grown up to be dead bodies. Too many young children have grown up to kill alive bodies. God, the Bodies of Christs need more than just "Enough!" to be carried into Life! Amen.
Creator of all trees, who declared after the forest was complete, "It is good!" whence bad fruit? Yes, we will die from eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge but we need all the knowledge we can get on this day and we need to "Get into the forest again" as Lawrence wrote because we are dropping like gorged flies from the bad fruit scattered and strewn wantonly and recklessly upon the ground. Amen.
God who wanted to know God, crying out into the Void, "IAM," needing company, how can you need and we, your creation, not need? Our daily bread is just that, daily bread. A dollar can only be stretched so far before being ripped apart. The need of the brutes makes so many even more needy. Dare we ask for more, God? God, can you give more? For need, our need, is part of the fabric of your way. Amen.
O, Divine butcher, splitting our breastbones wide open to get to the guts of our heart, give us ears to hear the clean cut of the sharp edge of truth for fat of ugly lies lies heavy on us. Amen.
Creator of the Universe filling an entire house with the whoosh of yourself. Is there a rush of wind in your absence? A withdrawal that sucks the life out of us? Leaving us empty and staring at the empty rooms where we thought there had been something just a moment before. Whoosh me for I need wooshing. Amen.
Doing God, living, dying and living again God, do you "do" us? Like, if we don't "do" it then your will "does" not get "done"? If so, "do" us because so many don't "do" anything. Amen.