Israel's Messiah

For fifteen hundred years your faith was true.

The world once looked to you to know of God.

Then God took flesh, and him you called a fraud

And sent him to the grave, but he pulled through,

That in his short-lived death he might teach you

A greater plan than you had understood:

The real cure for sin was in his blood

Shed for both you and us, for we are you.

            And if you would but look at him once more,

            Look past the years of myths and lies and see

            This bloodied, risen man who is The Name

            He would your eaten centuries restore.

            Your exile he would end, you would be free.

            He is the promised one who ends your shame.

Note:

I wrote this some time ago, and stashed it away, not quite sure if I wanted it out in the open. Faith is something that is so deeply held by a person that I would never want anyone to feel attacked by something I wrote. But I have come to the conclusion that the arts are a beautiful and necessary part of civil discourse. If someone who is Jewish reads this and is challenged by it, they are welcome to respond. Perhaps they will write a better poem explaining why they believe that their faith is true and mine is false. I would welcome that. If truth is important, then discussion and persuasion are important. And so it is in this vein of humble passion that I choose to make this poem public.