Off the Top of My Head

Stephen M. Lindo

© Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved Stephen M. Lindo stephen.montgomery.lindo@gmail.com

Contents Ears 2 Hear 1

The Garden of Eden 2 Inspiration 3

Sonny and the Big Boss 4 A Rose Arose 6

The Brave Knight 6 The Price 9

The Axeman 10 Lady in Waiting 12

The Buddha and the Christ 16 Trelawny Triptych 16

A Bat Without a Cave 18 The Parable of the Box 18

The Great Fish 19 Love Can 23

Pray-cation 23 Lady of Lanzhou 25

Thai-dye 26 Fortune Cookie Wisdom 27

Holding On 30 The LORD’s Day 31

On the Bottle 34 Sky High 34

Greta und die Gestapo 35 Style Matters 36

Imagine I’m an Enigma 37 When I died... 37

The Desert 41 Native Tree Spirit 42

El Oro de San Clemente 42

Ears 2 Hear

Everywhere you hear me

Hoping you'll come near me

Hoping you won't fear me

Hoping you‟ll revere me

Why did you forsake me

Worshipping the fake me

Punishment to break me

Sacrifice you make me

Maybe you don't know me

Thought you were below me

Why can‟t you just show me

Just how much you owe me?

Though you never knew me

Now you know the true me

Living new life through me

Giving praises to me

Everyone around you

Tries so hard to drown you

But my love will ground you

It always was bound to

He is real, I swear it

Trust that you are near it

Take your cross and bear it

Now you've got the spirit

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The Garden of Eden

Nothing inspires me to create more than spending time in the Garden of

Eden. There used to be a tree in the midst of the garden – an almond tree

that we once called the Tree of Knowledge. But now that tree has been

cut down due to its obstruction of the view of the sea. The garden is on

the Caribbean Sea and although the sun beats mercilessly down on the

tender plants, a cool, salty sea breeze is its saving grace.

Among the plants of the garden are ferns, orchids, frangipanis,

hibiscuses, and crotons. Exorias and bougainvilleas form a colorful

wreath around the almond tree stump. Walls designed to stay out

grazing cows are camouflaged by rows of willow trees. Eggshells found

at the bases of these trees are telltale signs of hidden nests that rest atop

their branches. Later, the willows will sing out in a natural evensong,

composed and conducted by the night wind whisping through their firs.

Closer to the seawall grow silver button trees (so-called because of their

small silver-colored leaves). Silver buttons are one of the few plants that

can grow along the seawall due to their uncanny ability to withstand the

wind and salt. They also make brilliant hedges.

Just as it was in Biblical Eden, my father‟s garden possesses many herbs

and trees yielding fruit for meat. Although not exactly a fruit, the

coconut trees bear coconuts several times a year whose meat and milk

may be served chilled. Our mango tree is a miniature and bears only one

or two dozen mangos per season. So small is it that we call it our bonsai

mango tree. We grow callaloo (a native spinach) which may be boiled

and scotch bonnet pepper which will certainly liven up any dish. We

also have a mint plant, the leaves of which may be boiled to make a

great-tasting mint tea and our gardener grows a stalk of sugarcane that

may be chewed to extract its sweetness.

In addition to plants and trees, there are several animal species that may

be found foraging about the garden. Among the most common are the

hummingbird (which Jamaicans call Dr. Bird because it visits every

flower like a doctor making his rounds) and the ubiquitous land crabs

that stand guard at the mouths of their freshly-dug holes. You can eat

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them if you know how to catch them (and our gardener says that the best

way is to step on them while reaching down and grabbing them from

behind, avoiding their dangerously sharp pincers). Egrets follow cows

hoping to feed off the insects and worms that are attracted by their dung

and long-legged herons have also been seen. Pelicans hover over the

shallow reef that lies beyond the seawall and occasionally crash into the

water for a fish with a loud splash. They can stay underwater for a long

time, surfacing far from the place where they dove in.

Inspiration

Freedom goes where freedom wills;

Bondage binds where bondage kills.

Endless pathways may we take;

All but one we must forsake.

Inspiration lights our path;

Saving man from certain wrath.

With these lights are guided we;

But the choice to choose is free.

Freedom then we must embrace,

If we are to live in grace.

But if choice we should deny,

On the cross we doth rely.

Nor must we put love on trial;

No one lives in life‟s denial.

Choose this day our God the LORD;

And you‟ll have a sure reward.

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Sonny and the Big Boss

“Sonny! Where ya‟ been hiding?” said the Big Boss with a forced grin

on his face. Behind him was the doorway to his palatial estate on the

upper east side. The brisk autumn air and newly fallen leaves belied the

armed bodyguards and ever-present surveillance cameras, all of which

afforded the mafia kingpin the best peace of mind dirty money could

buy.

Sonny got out of his car and greeted his boss with the obligatory kiss on

the cheek.

“I ain‟t hiding no more,” he said. “I‟m born again.”

The Big Boss chuckled, “What‟re ya‟ tellin‟ me? Am I not paying you

enough?”

“I can‟t take it anymore!” Sonny charged. “I can‟t eat! I can‟t sleep! I

can‟t face myself in the mirror anymore knowing the horrible things I‟ve

done to undeserving people! I want out!”

“Okay, relax,” said the Big Boss in a soothing voice. “C‟mon inside. I‟ll

have the missus fix you drink.”

“I‟ll pass,” said Sonny coolly. He followed the Big Boss inside the

house, through the dining room, into the den, and then out to the

poolside patio. The two sat down on wicker chairs facing the heated

swimming pool.

“Listen to me. You‟ve done nothing wrong,” protested the Big Boss.

“You say you hurt undeserving people, but that‟s just not true.

Everybody I put a hit on – all of them – were no-good scum. You did

the world and everybody a huge favor by making examples out of

them!”

Sonny answered, “I used to think like that too, but now I know that

nobody deserves to get hurt in any way – no matter what they‟ve done!

And even if they truly did deserve to get hurt, God doesn‟t need me or

anyone to enforce his justice. Vengeance belongs to him and him

alone.”

“And that‟s where we come in!” fumed the Big Boss, “We are God‟s

angels of vengeance in the world! We are doing his will when we punish

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lowlifes and traitors and finks! And it sends a message to anybody else

who might try to act up!”

“But that‟s just it!” declared Sonny, “We‟re all finks! If it were up to us

to enforce vengeance, we would execute the world and then ourselves!

But since God has forgiven us, we should be angels of mercy, not

vengeance.”

Suddenly the door opened. It was the missus holding a drink in her

hand. “Not now!” snapped the Big Boss, a vein popping out of his

forehead. She slinked back into the house.

“You‟ve changed,” said the Big Boss with a snarl, “You forgot where

you came from. You forgot how this world mistreated you… told you

you were nothing. You were branded because of your looks and your

last name. They wanted to throw you away and now you‟re making

excuses for them, tellin‟ me that we‟re all like that! Well, we‟re not all

like that! And just because there‟s no perfect person, or because I‟m not

a perfect person, that doesn‟t equate me with them! I‟m not them!”

“I agree with you that the world we live in is cruel,” started Sonny, “But

if we repay evil for evil, then we‟re just like them! Don‟t you see? We

have a chance to end this war! They hit us so we hit them – we hit them

so they hit us – it doesn‟t end „til somebody decides to take the last hit!”

The Big Boss laughed, “You want peace? You‟re a peacemaker?

Blessed be the peacemakers? I keep the peace! There ain‟t no peace

without me! Let me ask you something... What do you think would

happen on the streets tomorrow if word got out that the Big Boss had

gone soft? There‟d be mayhem! An iron fist is keeping this organization

together and preventing violence! These streets would explode were it

not for me!”

“You can‟t preempt violence with violence,” countered Sonny, “If the

streets erupt because you loosen your grip, that ain‟t your business.

Besides, maybe if you choose peace, others will follow your lead.”

The Big Boss became indignant, “No, Sonny. Unlike you, I do have a

responsibility to the people who stood by me through thick and thin. I

won‟t desert them! Not the way you‟re deserting me! And after I took

you in and made you my apprentice and gave you your life! And

protected you from things you‟ll never know about! But you know

nothing of loyalty!”

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“I‟m still loyal to you!”

“No you‟re not.” replied the Big Boss smugly.

“Yes I am!” Sonny shot back, “and I‟m more loyal to you now than I

ever was! Look at me! Before, I was loyal to you out of fear! But now,

I‟m loyal to you out of love! As I look at you, I see a man who has

become something he never wanted to be! You don‟t have to be this

way! You don‟t have to sleep with one eye open!”

The Big Boss couldn‟t believe what he was hearing. “Alright, Sonny,

tell me what you want.”

“I want you to let me go,” answered Sonny.

“And what‟re you gonna‟ do if I let you go?” asked the Big Boss. “Are

you gonna‟ get a 9 to 5? Are you gonna‟ pay your taxes and become a

law-abiding citizen? You‟ll just be exchanging one criminal gang for

another.”

A Rose Arose

A rose, I suppose,

grows and grows and grows and grows,

but no one knows why

The Brave Knight

In his hour of grief, the king summoned his knight.

How shall I serve thee, my lord? spaketh he.

The matter for which I have called you is dire;

My daughter, a dastardly wizard absconded

Wherefore I hath sent thee to win her release;

And if thou shalt save her, I offer ye this:

Her hand and mine kingdom to thee shalt be given

And thou shalt be called by my name, spake the king.

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So off went the knight on a quest for his maiden

O‟er hill and valley upon a white steed.

And there did he survey the wizard‟s dark castle

Which rose from the spines of a perilous cliff.

Found he the lass in a high tower sealed.

Render the damsel! he cried to the wizard.

Never I shall, the gaunt figure replied,

Lest thou mayest prove thyself worthy of honour;

To a man without fear shall I render the lass.

But the knight protested, I hath not a fear!

Prove it to me and the lady is thine!

Give me a test that my courage may prove!

Thus sprach the wizard, This shall ye do:

Conquer the dragon which lives in the dungeon.

Whose face is as wracked as the stench of his drool;

Who raises his neck on the strength of his haunches

Then may I know that thy fear hath ye conquered.

Therefore the knight with his sword and a torch

Walked into the darkness so dismal and bleak.

With each halting step, he had mustered his courage,

Ginning his temper to meet the fierce beast.

Twas there sighted he the most wretched of visions,

From billowing nostrils went plumes of white smoke,

A terrible beast with its wings outstretched,

Revealing sharp shards of glistening scales

Whilst twisting its head of putrid green.

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Now will I slay thee! howled the knight in his rage.

But the dragon entreated, Why doest so thus?

For to slay me in no wise shalt prove thyself fearless

As next to me stands yet another more fearsome.

Then him shall I slay! spaketh he with conviction.

But pleaded the dragon, Wherefore doest thou?

As there is not an end to the terrors of hell,

For hell is its terror: the dragon supplanting

That which ye hath conquered is ever more gruesome

„Til hell be confounded with dragons so fierce,

That nary a soul could ever requite it!

What then shall I do? spake the knight to the dragon.

To prove myself fearless and rescue my lass?

Then spake the wise dragon, A heart without fear

Beats not in the man who hast conquered all dragons,

But rather it beats in the sinner who dares

To serve every man as he would his own God

For a love that is perfect shall cast out all fear.

From thence, emerged the brave knight from his dungeon

And the wizard beseeched him, Hast thou foundest courage?

At last hath I learned, spake the knight with great joy,

That to conquer one‟s fears is an errand of folly.

But find ye the courage that walketh away,

Confessing thine fears to the Blessed Redeemer

Who findeth the grace that restoreth thy soul!

Thus was the lady restored to her land

And with the king‟s blessing she gavest her hand.

And thus was he granted his kingdom and throne

And every good blessing to calleth his own

In the name of the king who forever shall stand.

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The Price

Press

Reporters

Investigating

Corporate

Excesses

Peter

Righteously

Insisting

Christ

Existed

People‟s

Republic

Imprisoning

Chinese

Evangelists

Pastors

Reaching

Insightful

Conclusions

Eventually

Prosperity

Ruined

In

Christian

Endtimes

Pauline

Revision

Is

Circumcision‟s

Extinction

Play

Rewind

Insert

Copy

Eject

Please

Remember

It

Cannot

End

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The Axeman

“Why did you send out that memo!” shrieked the secretary.

“What memo?” her boss coolly inquired.

“The memo about the axeman who‟s coming to take away our jobs!”

“Oh, that memo!” the boss disingenuously recalled. “Well, as I

explained in the memo, our board of directors has decided that in order

to increase productivity and maximize profits, downsizing measures

need to be implemented.”

“Maximize profits for who?” the secretary shot back. “The purpose of

Management should be to help employees reap the rewards of their

labor, not to maximize profits for shareholders at the expense of

workers.”

The boss could only laugh, “It‟s out of my hands. Like I said, this

decision was made at the top. There‟s nothing I can do.”

“Of course there‟s something you can do!” the secretary chided. “You

can call the chairman and explain why they should reverse their

decision!”

“Now why would I do that?” scoffed the boss. “It‟s their show, honey –

I‟m just the executive.”

The secretary winced, “No, you have obligation to fight for your

employees just as we sacrifice for you.”

“And I appreciate the sacrifice!” grinned the boss in feigned offence.

“But sometimes, we‟ve got to bite the bullet for the sake of investors in

order to raise the capital necessary to hire even more workers! That‟s

how wealth is created!”

“No,” glinted the secretary. “It‟s not about making tough decisions, it‟s

about making wise decisions. Let‟s say you decimate the ranks and the

investors swoon. A couple of cycles later, you hire us all back, but we

don‟t feel as secure as we once did – we‟re not as loyal as we once were.

But what these board members don‟t understand is that it‟s loyalty, not

strategy, that‟s driving our economy. And there‟s no computer model

for „good will‟ in a world as interdependent as ours is.”

The boss tilted his head forward so as to look at her above the rim of his

eyeglasses, “You know, it‟s hardly likely that you‟ll be one of the ones

laid off.”

“You don‟t get it!” the secretary reluctantly pleaded. “It‟s not about me.

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No worker works for themselves. They work for their families, friends

and neighbors. The invisible hand that guides the free market system is

not mutual self-interest, but individual self-sacrifice.”

“Perhaps,” shrugged the boss. “But my hands are tied. If I challenge the

chairman‟s decisions too much, I might find myself in the

unemployment line.”

“It‟s your job to be assertive!” snapped the secretary. “But if

shareholders wanted a CEO with no spine, then they may as well of

hired SpongeBob SquarePants!”

“Okay,” grumbled the boss. “And SpongeBob would still hire the

downsizing consultant...”

“You mean the axeman.”

“Alright,” the boss groaned. “But just so you know, my spine is not

sponge. I‟ve the backbone of a soldier, and a true soldier does what he‟s

told without question. That‟s why I am where I am.”

“There‟s nothing wrong with soldiering,” answered the secretary. “As

long as you‟re on the winning side.”

“And what side would that be?”

Ding! The elevator door opened. The axeman cometh.

The boss lighted off his leatherette swivel chair and firmly gripped the

consultant‟s hand, “Is this the cost-benefit analysis?”

The axeman handed him the file. “After careful review of the balance

sheets, I believe I‟ve found the best restructuring model which, given

current market trends, should maximize revenue and profitability for our

shareholders.”

“Great!” the boss smiled. “So how deep are the cuts going to be?”

“Cuts?”

“Yeah, job cuts!”

“Okay. Let‟s sit down and discuss this,” invited the axeman, but the

boss could barely stay in his chair (he was so filled with anticipation).

“We‟re shutting down the entire plant and moving it to Guadalajara.”

“What?!”

“I said, we‟re shutting down...”

“Yes... yes... I heard! But what‟s going to happen to me? I‟m under

contract!”

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“Not anymore,” the axeman uttered. “According to subparagraph 51.3c,

the corporation reserves the right to terminate its CEO in the event of a

facility relocation.”

“That‟s it?! After all the years I worked for this firm, this is how you

reward loyalty?!”

“On the corporate battlefield, it‟s the loyal soldiers who perish first.”

Lady in Waiting

There once was a lord who lived in great castle and had dominion over

many towns. He was a steward of the king‟s wealth and had charge over

all the affairs of his reign. He opened doors and shut them, prosecuted

wars and sued for peace. Nonetheless, he was not able to attain to the

throne since in order to do so, he was required to marry a woman of

royal lineage. Therefore, he issued a decree in all the land that should

any willing princess from any kingdom become his bride, he would

make her his queen.

There came two women from afar, one a goodly princess and the other a

wretched handmaiden. While the princess wore a purple gown bedecked

with jewels and crowned with rubies, the handmaiden instead wore rude

apparel and tattered garments, barely concealing her uncouth wooden

shoes.

“Whom shall I marry?” the lord inquired.

“If you marry me,” said the princess, “you will become king.”

Then answered the handmaiden, “I am but an orphan, my lord. I have no

pedigree to speak of, but if you marry me, I will love you like none

other.”

But the lord laughed at the handmaiden, “And how can a poor

handmaiden love me without giving me the kingdom?”

“In me is a kingdom greater than that which ye seek,” she replied, “It is

a kingdom built on love and undying hope.”

“What is love?”

“To love is to obey the son of man.”

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Now when everyone in the land had heard of the handmaiden‟s great

faith and courage, they preferred her over the goodly princess and

petitioned the lord to marry her instead, thus forsaking the crown.

(But the lord preferred the throne to the people, and thus devised a plot

to invalidate the handmaiden‟s faith, allowing him to ascend to power

with the support of the people.)

Thus said the lord, “Am I the son of man?”

“We are all sons of men,” she answered.

“Very well,” he reasoned, “Then I will marry you if you are able to

prove your love to me by obeying my every edict. But if you are not

able to obey my every edict, I will not marry you and will instead marry

the goodly princess, becoming king in all the land.”

“Yes, my lord,” answered the handmaiden. “Anything you ask of me, I

will do.”

The lord thought for a moment, then said, “Tell me a story I‟ve never

heard before.”

The handmaiden applauded his request, then began:

There was once a woman who married a farmer. She loved him very

much and gave him a son, but when he saw how much she loved the

child, he became exceedingly jealous and sent the child away. Then the

woman asked her husband, „Why did you send the child away?‟ to which

the farmer responded, „I sent him away in order so that you would love

me.‟ But the woman said to her husband, „I have always loved you and

always will I ever!‟ When the farmer knew that his wife had forgiven

him for sending the child away, his heart sank. Thus did he repent of his

jealousy and not long after, she gave him yet another son, and they

named him after the first.

“What name would that be?” mocked the lord.

“A name you‟ve never heard before,” she quipped.

Then the lord became furious. “Fine! You‟ve told me a story I‟ve never

heard before. But if you are truly able to do all that I ask of you, sing for

me a song.”

“Which song?”

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“A song that neither I nor anyone has ever heard.”

“Very well,” answered the handmaiden.

So the lord called for his musicians, the lutist and the piper, and as they

began to play, she began to sing:

Anyone who hears me will see

Anyone who sees me will be

Anyone who gives shall receive

Anyone who lives shall believe

Anyone who eats will be filled

Anyone who cheats will be killed

Everything I have is in you

There is nothing more I can do

As the musicians marveled at the handmaiden‟s cunning, the lord rued

the day he met her. It seemed as if no matter what his request, she was

always able to comply, and because he had vowed to marry her upon

that compliance, it was as if the kingdom was being wrenched from his

hand. What‟s more, the longer his court entertained her, the more his

cortège fell in love with her. So he thought to put her love to such a test

that no man on earth could pass it save the son of God.

“Tell me,” spake the lord, “can you turn straw into gold?”

“Yes, I can.”

So the lord sent for his alchemists, with their flasks and utensils, and

ceiled her in an apothecary for one hour. And there she stood, the

strands of straw protruding from her delicate grip.

“Turn this straw into gold,” he ordered as the door closed.

. . . . . . .

When finally the time had elapsed, the door to the apothecary was

opened. The entire court stared into the chamber, not knowing what to

expect. Some thought her a witch, others a saint. But when the damsel

emerged, she still had in her hand, the very same straw she had been

given at the first.

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The lord was elated with the outcome he had designed, having been

released from his earthly obligation, he rebuked her quickly, “Now you

have not obeyed me. Neither have you rendered me gold for the straw

that I gave you!”

“No, I have not,” the handmaiden responded. “But that is because you

are not able to receive it.”

“And how am I not able to receive it?” he scoffed.

“Because only a king can receive my gold. And you are no king.”

Now was the lord outraged at the handmaiden, “Make me king then!

Make me king and give me my gold, you stupid wench!”

But the handmaiden stared askance, “No man‟s blood is more pure than

mine. But if you want to become a king, you must either be born a king,

or marry into it.”

“Then that is what I‟ll do!” chided the lord as he summoned for his

guards to escort the young lady from his sight, never to be heard from

again.

. . . . . . .

So the lord married the goodly princess instead and was crowned king in

every province. But all was not well in the land, for the princess whom

he had married (and who had now become queen), was unable to give

him a royal heir, provoking his enemies to plot against him. The

astrologers and soothsayers also warned that they would not wait for his

demise before exploiting this weakness.

So the king called for his queen, saying, “Give me a son, lest I die,”

“I cannot obey you,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because I do not love you.”

“Why do you not love me?”

“Because you married me for power and not love,” she answered,

“Therefore, you shall have neither.”

Then did the king understand that without the queen‟s love, he would

not only lose his kingdom, but quite possibly his life.

“How then can I love you?” he pleaded.

“To love is to obey the son of man.”

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Then did the king remember the saying of the handmaiden whom he had

banished, and repented of his error. He learned that true love is worth

more than all the world‟s wealth.

“Ask of me what you will,” he said to his wife, “and whatsoever you

ask, I will give it no matter what it is – even my entire kingdom; even

my own life.”

The queen answered without hesitation, “Give me a son. For once your

heart was straw, but now is it pure gold!”

And the two lived happily ever after in a kingdom built on love and

undying hope.

The Buddha and the Christ

The Buddha told Christ,

"Suffer to be enlightened."

Jesus told him, No.

Christ told the Buddha,

"Suffer to redeem my flock."

The Buddha said, Ommm...

Trelawny Triptych

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon in Trelawny Parish, Jamaica. But that

didn‟t stop the faithful of that community from assembling in the

sanctuary of the Church of St. Peter the Apostle. There were no empty

pews as the Pastor delivered his rousing sermon, and as he expounded

on the mystical transformation of the Eucharistic Elements into the

Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, flashes of lightning lit up the stained-

glass windows closely followed by loud bursts of thunder as if God

Himself were lending commentary. The rain beat furiously against the

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windows, conjuring images of the great flood that purged the old world

of all but eight souls. Flowers, which had sprung up around the

gravestones of the churchyard, were nourished by the incessant

downpour. As the rain brought the flowers, so too would the flowers

bring goats once the storm had subsided. The women of the

congregation fanned themselves with church bulletins, their ornate hats

and bandanas providing the necessary “covering” without which it

would be a shame for them to prophesy. The men wore suits and ties,

their jackets flaunting the hot autumn air. Everywhere, people‟s souls

were stirred by the passionate preaching, leaving no doubt that the Spirit

of their God was present among them.

The church was built out of solid rock and stood for centuries in the

bustling community of Falmouth. Her walls had withstood pirate

attacks, slave uprisings, fires, and hurricanes. She had witnessed the

abolition of slavery and the transition to Independence. She had

remained Anglican from her founding. She possessed one of the few

working pipe organs in the Caribbean. Hymns were played by ear and

sung from memory. The church had a clock tower that had long ceased

to work. A narrow wooden staircase inside the tower led to the place

where the bell ringer would pull the frayed ropes which sounded the

church bells, announcing the start of Sunday Worship.

On the opposite end of the graveyard stood the church hall. It was a

newer building and was primarily used as a meeting and recreational

facility. The Anglican Youth Fellowship would meet there, its teenaged

officers recording the minutes and collecting dues. The church hall also

hosted dance parties and carnivals, all of which attracted non-Anglicans

to the church and gave members of different denominations an

opportunity to socialize. The annual Easter Prayer Breakfast was held

there to raise money for the church. Pre-purchased tickets could be

exchanged for a real traditional Jamaican breakfast including ackee and

salt-fish, callaloo, yam and dumplings, and for dessert, slices of pau-pau

and watermelon. Money raised from the ticket sales would go toward

the “Kitchen of Love” ministry that fed indigents in the community.

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A Bat Without a Cave

How doth the little cave bat fly?

With either ear, but not one eye.

Within the cave, we hear its cry.

Upon the cave wall, it doth rely.

A bat shall sound its screeching call.

It echoes off the dim cave wall.

Without its ears, the bat would fall.

It would not fly – no, not at all.

God sends his Word in every place.

It echoes off the human race;

And in our hearts, he sees his face

And in his Word, we see his Grace.

Without our hearts, God could not see.

He could not speak, he could not be.

Without a Witness (two or three),

A bat without a cave is he.

The Parable of the Box

I was trapped in a box that could only be opened from the outside.

Within that box, I found a replica of the self-same box from which I was

hopelessly trapped, and imagined that someone else might be trapped

inside that box. “There‟s no hope for me” I thought, “but at least I can

free someone else from their box”; whereupon I opened the replica of

the box and discovered the miraculous hand of God releasing me from

my own.

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The Great Fish

Deep in the Montana woods lies Lake Serenity. It is a haven for

fishermen due to its crisp, clean air and clear waters. There, a fisherman

sits in a rowboat with his son. He baits his hook and casts in his line.

The line sinks beneath the cool, still waters and finds its depth among

the many fishes that inhabit the lake. Some of the fish nibble at the bait.

Others do not.

One fish, whose name was Barney Bass, watched as the other fish took

turns nibbling at the bait. He was tempted to nibble himself, but was

unsure as he noticed that there were many fish who chose not to nibble.

“Why was this?” he asked.

Then came a fish choosing not to nibble whose name was Salmon Peter.

He explained that the reason why certain of the fish abstained from

nibbling the bait was because of the Great Fish who told them not to.

Salmon Peter recited the Epic of the Great Fish:

Long ago, there was a lake

And it was teeming with fish;

And all of them lived together

And got along with each other.

It was a perfect day.

Then one day,

A strange new fish appeared;

One that no one had ever seen before.

It was shiny and had a chord attached to it

which reached up to the sky.

The new fish carried bait in its teeth

And when the first fish saw it

And perceived the bait to be good,

He began to nibble at it.

20 | P a g e

Other fishes followed the first fish

And soon, all of the fishes were nibbling the bait.

Then one day,

As a fish was nibbling the bait,

He found himself ensnared by it;

And the more he tugged at the line,

the more he found himself unable break free.

Suddenly, he was yanked up by his mouth

to the top of the water.

And he was yanked above the top of the water

to a place where he could not breath

(above the water.)

There he was pulled into a boat

And saw men;

And the men cut him loose from the baited hook.

There were the bones and blood of fish scattered

And fishes with their heads cut off;

And fishes with their skins peeled off;

And live fishes trapped in buckets.

He saw other boats with men fishing;

Men baiting their hooks

and casting them into the water;

And he understood that it was wrong to nibble at the bait.

Then, the man who had caught him

reached for his knife.

He was going to cut him open

as he did to the other fish,

But then, the man loosened his grip

and he slipped out of the man‟s hands

and fell back into the water.

As soon as the fish returned to the lake,

He swam everywhere and told every fish

That they should not nibble at the bait anymore.

21 | P a g e

Many fishes believed him at his word

and abstained from eating the bait.

Other fishes believed only after seeing his wounds.

Still others choose not to believe him

although they had both heard his word

and seen his wounds.

They had been previously lied to by other fishes

and so accused him of lying also.

Then he saw that it was wrong for a fish to lie

because it would discourage others

from believing the truth;

And that all the fishes who had ever died

because of the mischievous lies told by fishes

were as one Great Fish.

Therefore, he admonished fishes everywhere

never to tell a lie;

For the sake of the Great Fish who died for their lie.

Barney Bass heard the Epic that Salmon Peter had recited and believed

him. He swore that as long as he lived, he would never nibble the bait or

tell a lie.

Then along came a slippery fish whose name was the Doubting Trout.

He did not believe the Epic of the Great Fish and was offended at

Barney Bass‟s faith.

“Why do you believe the Epic of the Great Fish while other epics differ

from it?” asked the Doubting Trout.

Barney Bass answered, “I believe the Epic because the Author of the

Epic says that lying causes others to die. Therefore, if the Author lies, he

will be responsible for the deaths of others according to his own

confession. Many other fishes have testified to the Truth of the Epic of

the Great Fish. Some have even claimed to have been taken up into

boats and escaped or were thrown back. Also, it is right to obey the

22 | P a g e

word of Salmon Peter because he is the only fish who says that lying

causes other fish to die.”

The Doubting Trout answered, “But there have been many fishes who

claimed to have been taken up above the water and came back with a

different account of what is up there. They say there is no danger or

death.”

Barney Bass answered and said, “There is always the danger of death

whenever someone else has you on their hook.”

The Doubting Trout replied, “There is no way to verify the truth of the

Epic. It was written so long ago and now times have changed.”

Barney Bass responded, “It is true that we live in different times, but the

principles and values that are preached by the Great Fish are timeless.”

Then the Doubting Trout took great offence, “Some fish say they are

naturally drawn to the bait. It is unkind to tell these fish to disobey their

own natural inclinations.”

Barney Bass countered, “We are not controlled by our natural

inclinations, but rather, it is we ourselves who govern our own thoughts

and deeds. If some fish are offended by what I‟m saying, then let their

own offence convict them. Does not the desire to be loved and accepted

transcend nature?”

“I feel sorry for you,” said the Doubting Trout finally. “You will not

nibble the bait with us and will therefore be deprived of the experience.”

Barney Bass answered, “There is an experience greater than that of

nibbling the bait. It is the experience of knowing that you did not lead

others to their death and that you did not contribute to the misery and

suffering of others.”

With that, the Doubting Trout left Barney Bass and began to nibble the

bait. He saw other fishes being dragged up above the top of the water

but gave it no thought.

23 | P a g e

Then one day, as he carelessly nibbled, the Doubting Trout felt a

stinging in his jaws. He was hooked and could not break free. He tugged

and tugged but the more he pulled at the line, the quicker he was reeled

up to the surface. As soon as he was angled above the water‟s surface,

he found himself unable to breath. He was in dry air – just as the Epic

had said. He then felt the hand of a child grab him. It was the

fisherman‟s son. “Can we keep him?” he said to his father.

Love Can

Love can cause the blind to see;

Love can cause the rose to bloom;

Love can cause the world to be;

Love can leave an empty tomb.

Love can make the desert spring;

Love can make the world go 'round;

Love can make a child‟s heart sing;

Love can walk on holy ground.

Love can hope for brighter days;

Love can hope for liberty;

Love can hope for joy always;

Love can pray for you and me.

Pray-cation

Jamaica is internationally recognized for its golf courses, white-sand

beaches, musical heritage and exceptional hospitality. But while many

visitors to our island prefer to bask in the sun, sand and surf, others see

their vacations as opportunities to minister to the gospel. Many tourists

living abroad belong to congregations that have sister churches here.

24 | P a g e

Others come to establish new churches or engage in charitable activities.

Today, Christianity has a prominent role in Jamaican cultural and

political life. If you are seeking a different tourist experience, one that

ventures beyond the conspicuous meccas of the all-inclusive enclave,

then I would certainly recommend a visit to any one of our great and

historic local parish churches.

In the town of Falmouth, the Trelawny Parish Church of St. Peter the

Apostle stands as a living monument to the supremacy of Anglicanism

in Jamaican culture. Its stone masonry portrays the understated grandeur

of Georgian architecture while rendering a striking allusion to the rock

on which our LORD‟s Church was built. Its arched wooden doorway

first welcomed celebrants decades before the abolition of slavery and

was a part of the original town charter officially authorized, recognized

and patronized by the government of Jamaica and its Monarch.

Today, St. Peter‟s is known for its majestic clock tower, which also

serves as a belfry and while the clock only gives the correct time twice

daily, the soft pealing of its old iron bell can often be heard on Sunday

mornings, beckoning the entire community to worship.

The gravestones of St. Peter‟s record both the names and lifespans of

more than a few dignitaries and luminaries dating back to the colonial

era. A substantial number of child graves testify to the untimeliness of

death in a world without vaccination. Once, these memorials were

decorated with flowers and lamented by devotees, but nowadays, they

serve as ever-present sentinels, warning all trespassers of the fate that

awaits them should they stray from the narrow path.

St. Peter‟s boasts one of the oldest working pipe organs in the

Caribbean. Early in the 20th century, an electrical motor was added to its

bellows eliminating the need for a human blower. Beyond this, however,

there is no electrical alteration or amplification of the organ sound. It‟s

large brass pipes, which tower above the congregation, resonate with the

vibrant harmonies and embellished descants commensurate with the

mostly self-taught musicians who grace its console. The choir too does

not read music, but instead memorizes every melody while following

along in the words-only edition of the Anglican hymnal.

25 | P a g e

It is a cultural tradition in Jamaica for men to wear suits and ties and for

the women to wear long dresses, hats and even gloves on a Sunday

morning service despite the searing heat and lack of air-conditioning.

Some poorer Jamaicans use this tacit dress code as impetus to shirk their

spiritual duty, though many others are welcomed into the congregation

in t-shirts and tennis shoes.

It is not a rare occurrence to see foreigners in attendance at the Sunday

morning service. Many are family members of congregants and other

Jamaican ex-patriots (like myself) but a few are Anglican and

Episcopalian tourists who don‟t want to miss church while on their

vacations. These tourists are blessed with interesting and memorable

vignettes into traditional Jamaican life and culture as well as by the

ministry of the Sacrament and fellowship of the Holy Spirit.

Sandals, Half Moon, and the Ritz Carlton are three prestigious resorts

that can arrange bus tours to the historic town of Falmouth and transport

guests to and from St. Peter‟s. Doubtless your concierge would be more

than happy to assist you in learning more about Jamaica‟s great

churches and island culture. Until then, I wish you all the best and, as

we say here in Jamaica, Likkle more!

Lady of Lanzhou

There‟s a village in the east

(like a box within a box)

Where the people keep the feast

of the New Year of the ox.

There‟s a yellow river there

(where the rabbit likes to play).

Maybe in another year,

he becomes the tiger‟s prey?

26 | P a g e

There‟s a lady in Lanzhou

(whiter as a porcelain doll).

Maybe she can show me how

I might hear the tiger's call.

Maybe I will never know

(maybe it was for the best

That I was not meant to go

from this village in the west).

He who claims to know it all

often knows it all the least;

Wisdom is a China doll

from a village in the east.

Thai-dye

Little Tukta from Siam

(Not as lucky as I am).

Will she go to London town

In a graduation gown?

Does the British consulate

Even have her passport yet?

Little Tukta, can‟t you see?

It‟s an opportunity

To forgive your enemy

(Impudent bureaucracy).

When we learn to look within,

All we find is death and sin;

When we learn to look without,

Jesus takes away our doubt.

Now that you are on your way,

I have only this to say:

Never leave the God you know

When you touch down in Heathrow!^^

27 | P a g e

Fortune Cookie Wisdom

(Wise man say, „You are one tough cookie!‟)

A fool says, Every dog has his day;

A wise man says, Everyday is God‟s day.

A fool is perverted;

A wise man is converted.

A fool seeks a way to understand;

A wise man seeks to understand the way.

A fool chases his dreams;

A wise man follows his heart.

A fool says, I‟ll believe it when I see it;

A wise man says, I‟ll see it when I believe it.

A fool begs for more;

A wise man begs for mercy.

A fool is a wolf in sheep‟s clothing;

A wise man is a sheep in wolf‟s clothing.

A fool‟s fate is sealed;

A wise man‟s faith is sealed.

A fool is a victim of society;

A wise man is a menace to society.

A fool says my words don‟t exist;

A double fool takes them literally;

A wise man takes it for what it‟s worth.

A fool has a fear of failure;

A double fool has a fear of success;

A wise man fears fear itself.

A fool is needy;

A double fool is greedy;

A wise man is ready.

28 | P a g e

A fool goes into debt;

A double fool pays it off;

A wise man declares bankruptcy.

A fool is loyal to his country;

A double fool is loyal to his church;

A wise man is loyal to his God.

A fool leaches off his parents;

A double fool robs his children of their future;

A wise man accepts help from family.

A fool dismisses these words;

A double fool regurgitates them;

A wise man seeks to interpret.

A fool has a fear of commitment;

A double fool has separation anxiety;

A wise man lets love go in order to find it.

A fool says, My sin is forgotten;

A wise man says, My sin is forgiven.

A fool donates out of guilt;

A wise man donates out of gratitude.

A fool fears that he cannot know;

A wise man knows that he cannot fear.

A fool says his prayers;

A wise man prays them.

A fool has a premise;

A wise man has a promise.

A fool cannot find the doorway;

A double fool clings to the doorway;

A wise man shuts the door behind him.

A foolish general fights yesterday‟s battle;

A wise general declares victory in the midst of battle.

A fool sees the crucifix as an accusation;

A wise man sees the crucifix as an exoneration.

29 | P a g e

A fool claims a right to privacy;

A double fool seeks attention;

A wise man is known only to God.

A foolish priest tries to increase the population of heaven;

A wise priest tries to decrease the temperature of hell.

A foolish president wags his finger;

A double foolish president wags the dog;

A wise president gets us into peace.

A fool discovers the “historical” Jesus;

A wise man repents to the God he knows.

A fool says, I am insane;

An wise man says, I am an ensign.

A fool performs an autopsy on the devil he just slew;

A double fool resurrects him to kill him again;

A wise man casts out other people‟s devils.

A fool sees an aberration;

A wise man sees an Apparition.

A foolish artist has references;

A wise artist has preferences.

I once had lunch at this really great restaurant in San Francisco‟s

Chinatown. Afterward, the waitress handed me the check with

a fortune cookie (an obvious defect since there wasn‟t anything printed

on it).

I guess that means I‟m going to die!, I scoffed.

Of course not! smiled the waitress. That means you make your own

fortune!

xie xie!^^

30 | P a g e

Holding On

One hand extended

Reaching out

To the one I befriended

Before it all ended

But on the other hand

I‟m holding on

To the edge of the ledge

Of a solemn pledge

To have and to hold

„Til death do us part

And when my blood runs cold

I still will

Hold on

And when I die

They‟ll have to pry

My bride‟s sweet melancholy sigh

From my cold dead hand

Just the way we‟d always planned

So please take a stand and

Don‟t concede a blood-stained

Inch of Holy Ground

Holding on to the love we‟ve found

Who found us still holding on

To what we‟ve done

Holding one

31 | P a g e

The LORD‟s Day

In the country, Anglican Priests were scarce. Because of this, Father

John pastored three churches. First, he pastored the Holy Trinity Church

at Bloomfield. Then, he rode on horseback to Christ Church in

Rockford. He completed his circuit at St. Michael‟s Church in Davey.

The Right Reverend was a faithful administrator of the Holy Sacraments

in the Anglican Tradition. He was also a devoted husband to his wife of

many years and a father of two small children (my sister and myself).

“Whinny,” he said to his wife. “What joy it is unspeakable to be in your

presence. However, I am called to a sacred ministry and must therefore

suffer a temporary separation. Be of good cheer in my absence knowing

that this ignominious lapse will reap for us an ever more glorious

reunion.”

“I await your return,” answered Whinny. “And my spirit prays that your

ministry will prosper and your labours yield an harvest much abounding

and beyond your knowing.”

With that, Father John mounted his horse and rode toward Bloomfield.

The trail wound its way through the woods and paralleled a nearby

brook. Sunbeams peered through the maple leaves as they undulated in

the cool autumn zephyr.

. . . . . . .

Upon his arrival at Bloomfield, Father John encountered a group of

young boys playing in the street. They painted their faces to look like

Indians and one of them was even smoking a pipe. Father John

addressed them, “Today is Sunday and you ought to be in church.”

The boy with the pipe answered, “Our fathers don‟t care whether or not

we went to Church.”

Father John approached the boy with the pipe and asked him for it. The

boy refused whereupon Father John snatched the pipe out of the boy‟s

mouth and cast in into the brook.

The boy cried, “That‟s my father‟s pipe!”

32 | P a g e

“And if you had been in church today, you would have known not to

take what doesn‟t belong to you!”

“Alright! We will go!” the boys exclaimed.

Father John left them and proceeded to the chapel.

Holy Trinity was situated on a steep hill speckled with wildflowers.

Bees often wafted in through its open windows, along with the

intermittent baas of safely grazing sheep. The church bells pealed as the

choir donned their robes and arrayed themselves for the morning

procession. Afterward, the service convened with „Old 100th‟ as the

rising sun lit up the stained glass above the altar. Bloomfield‟s faithful

gave witness to that morning‟s miracle (and all the way in the very last

pew sat a young Geronimo and handful of his pintsized braves.)

. . . . . . .

Upon arrival at Christ Church in Rockford, Father John was greeted by

members of the vestry and choir. At the conclusion of the service, a

woman by the name of Lady P. approached him and ventured to have

her confession heard. Father John could see the look of anguish on her

face and instantly became sympathetic.

“Please tell me what is troubling you,” asked the Priest. “And let me

know if there‟s anything I can do to help.”

“I want you to pray for me,” she started. “I have a disease to which there

appears to be no cure. I am baptized in Christ for seven years now and

have sought the LORD in all areas of my life. However, it seems that

the more pure I become, the greater my sin is revealed to me.”

Father John understood what she was experiencing and beseeched the

Spirit for the right words of comfort. “Jesus gives us a parable in

Matthew chapter twelve in which a clean house attracts devils because

of its emptiness,” he began in a stern but loving voice. “Obedience to

the Law is like having a clean house; but without love, the house is

empty. All who love God will obey him; but not all who obey God love

him.”

“I want to love Jesus!” declared Lady P.

“Then do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

33 | P a g e

. . . . . . .

The town of Davey was even more sparsely populated than the other

towns, but this only added to the spirit of community. St. Michael‟s

Chapel stood on the edge of a glistening field of wheat for as long as

anyone could remember, its liturgy frequently punctuated by the cows

mooing and cocks crowing, which no one seemed to mind. Afterward,

Father John paid his usual visit to the Bartley Manor with the intent to

administer the Sacrament to its bedridden proprietor.

“Good day, Mr. Bartley,” grinned the pastor. But as his communicant

strained to look at him, his stare became ever more distant.

“As always, I appreciate this weekly visit, but today will the last.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I am old and my heartbeat is increasingly uneven. I feel as

though I were slipping away and it is well with me.”

“No you‟re not,” the pastor contended. “I‟ve known elders whose hearts

were convicted with the promise of the resurrection. Theirs is the look

of victory; but in you, I see only defeat and false resignation.”

“Go away, pastor. Can‟t you see I‟m ill?”

“I can‟t do that,” Father John persisted. “You‟re not ill, but if you were,

your only illness would be that you are too well. You‟ve become

comfortable in your fear and sickness; and now you fear dying so much

that you would wish for it if only to dispel it.”

Mr. Bartley twisted in his bed. “If you won‟t leave me be, then at least

tell me what heaven will be like so that I might have some hope in it.”

“Okay,” smiled the pastor. “How about I tell you next week?”

. . . . . . .

As the sun set over the mountains, the clip-clop of horseshoes on gravel

was heard outside of the rectory. My sister and I ran outside to meet him

as Whinny stood waiting on the old hickory landing.

34 | P a g e

Whinny never asked how his day went – the fact that he arrived seemed

to settle that question. But there was a certain homecoming ritual that

both engaged in before anything else was spoken. First, Father John

would dust off his shoes, remove his hat and say, “How wonderful it is

to find you here waiting for me after so long a sojourn.”

“I don‟t know which is greater,” she added. “The faith of the woman

who waits or the man who returns.” Thus went the dispassionate

responsorial that marked the end of yet another LORD‟s day.

On the Bottle

I found a message in a bottle;

It said, Bottle.

I opened my Bible in the Spirit;

It said, Spirit.

Does that mean I found a message in a bottle?

or a bottle in a message?

If you say, The bottle is in the message only,

then you blaspheme the bottle.

If you say, The Spirit is in the Bible only,

then you blaspheme the Spirit.

Later, I picked up the bottle

and on it was written: 100-proof spirit.

Sky High

The sky's the limit

But without the earth beneath

There would be no sky

35 | P a g e

Greta und die Gestapo

Knock knock knock... (Die doore opendt.)

“Gütentag!” greeted Greta. “Wat Kann I du für yeu?”

“I haffe orders teu sürche dies rezidence unter suspicione das yeu ar

hidingsie Jüden,” sagt die Nazi.

“Jüden?” criedt Greta. “Nein! Er ist nöe Jüden hier.”

“Maye I sürche, den?”

“Of cours nicht!” Greta answert. “Est ist die middel auf der nächt!

Kömme bach ohn Sönntag, bye-bye!”

“Nein!” der Nazi insistet. “I müss conducten die sürche at wonce!”

“Or else wat?!”

“Or else..” (der Nazi pausen... Er dits nicht wänten zu fillen out zie

paperwürke für deiser one!...) “Okay – okay! Den jusst tellen me, ist der

eine Jüden heire?”

“Yess!”

“Güt!” answert die Nazi. “Bringen ihm oute, bitte.”

“Fein, I will!” Greta relentidt, “Bütte fürst, tellen me wei yeu wänte

ihm.”

“Becauss he ist ein Jüde!”

“Und wat ist wröngen wiht das?” shie answeren.

“Die Jewische blüt ist korrupt und müssen be pürgt frem auf die

Sudetanland!” sagt der Nazi.

“Wei du yeu thinken dat?” askt Greta perplext.

“Wei? Wei?? Jusst looke as die advancments auf Aryan ärs und cultur!

Das genius auf dein Östrianische müsiker und technologie, der stamina

auf ouhr würkers! Grüβ Gött! Weir die mosst evölvedt auf älle der races

und häffen un näturel reicht zu destroyen sie impür races!

“Aber wass abouet der Bibel?” pleadedt Greta. “Weir älle frem Adem,

ain‟t we? Und häffen weir älle bin mäde ouf die saem blüd?”

Aber die Nazi groβlich sprächen, “Perhapts! Aber weil ins das Neü

Testamenten, die Jüden wert replacent bei den Romänische Christerens!

Dierfore, das gentilles aer die neue superiuer race!”

36 | P a g e

(Greta lookt ahn der Nazi wiht despaire. Shie hadt geställedt ihm as

müche ahs shie couldt!) “Alreit! Alreit! I wille göe und bringen auf die

Jüden. Waite hier...” Der doore clöest und die Nazi waitet outeside.

Den, sie doore suddennly opent...

“Well? Wehr ist hie?” askt der Nazi.

“Kömming,” shie answërt sweetlich. “Bütte fürst, tellen mie... Ar nott

yeu ein grandsönne auf einen Jüdenin?”

“Ja, I am,” sprächen der Nazi. “Bütte I wass raisedt ahs einen

Christeren.”

“I see...” Greta wondert. “Und ihre parenst neiber toldt yeu das Jesu

Christe war ein Jüden?”

Der Nazi pausedt. “Well... I neiber unterstüdt thiere faithe... I wantet zu

believen en Christe, bütte... I neiber couldt! I neiber saw waht thaey

saw! Die mësage war losst on me! I kouldt nicht finden Götte nowehre!”

“Den wei känt yeu see Hem nowe?!” Greta pleadedt.

Bütte der Nazi becämme outragedt, “Est wast meinen blüd! Meinen

korrupt Jewische blüdt das wouldt nicht permitt mie!! Nowe bringensie

auf die Juden!! Schnell, bitte!!”

Greta walkdt outeside und shütten sie doore behindt ehr. “Hier am I!”

shie gesagt.

“Yeu?!” shoutted der Nazi. “Yeu art nicht einen Jüden?!”

“Ja, Ich bin nicht,” Greta whisperin. “Bütte meine Saviuer ist, und ihs

blüd eis withinen mie.”

Style Matters

Style over substance?

But in the world we live in,

it's both that matter.

37 | P a g e

Imagine I'm an Enigma

Imagine I'm an enigma ...... A misunderstood mister who dissed his

sister (but now, how much I‟ve missed her) ...... A man who once

prayed to someday repay the one whom he depraved (but now, it‟s too

late) ...... The one who bravely paved the way for him to say, “My soul

is saved” ...... The one and only Son who came to make a way for

everyone (and now it‟s done) ...... The one who gave his all to call a

saint whose name was Saul (but now it‟s Paul, y‟all) ...... The one who

(by his stripes) restored the blind man‟s sight forevermore (Praise ye the

LORD) ...... But as for me and my house? ...... I am the charismatic-

addict praisin‟ Jesus all diseases have been cured (Word is born) ......

When I died...

When I awoke, I found myself on a plain. Rising to my feet, I turned

and saw the contemplative Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree.

Why do you suffer? – asked the Buddha – You suffer because you live

and you live because you die. Life is Death and Death is Life. It is an

endless cycle of life, death and rebirth. The way to end suffering is

through breaking the cycle of life, death and rebirth. And once this cycle

is broken, Enlightenment is achieved. The place of Enlightenment is

Nirvana. Your soul cannot enter Nirvana without first achieving

Enlightenment which is best accomplished through the technique and

discipline of meditation.

38 | P a g e

I answered the Buddha and said – People don‟t suffer because they live,

they suffer because they sin. Death is not necessary for life, only the

Word of God is. Life cannot be an endless cycle of life, death and

rebirth because death is final or else it is not death. The way to end

suffering is to suffer for it completely which the Son of God already did

for us. Enlightenment is not the blissful realization that Life is Death

and Death is Life (as you falsely assert), but rather, it is the faith of a

loving God who suffers and dies as a propitiation for mankind‟s sin.

This is the true „Nirvana‟ and the true Incarnation of the Buddha‟s

aspiration.

With that, the Buddha disappeared in a puff of smoke whereupon I

turned to find myself on a mountaintop standing in front of a blue man

with four arms. It was Vishnu.

Why do you suffer? – asked Vishnu – You suffer because you violate the

Dharma which are holy rules for living. As a result, you have

established negative Karma. Karma is a divine system of justice wherein

all actions (whether positive or negative) are recompensed to the

individual. Therefore, I (Vishnu) am the divine arbiter and dispenser of

justice. Follow me if you want to receive a positive Karma.

I answered Vishnu and said – You are right to say that I have violated a

holy standard of living. As a result of my transgression, I am deserving

of divine recompense and am under the literal curse of the Old

Testament. However, God‟s judgment and wrath was assuaged by the

righteous judgment of his Son on the cross we deserved.

Vishnu objected – If Christ suffered in place of the Christians, then no

Christians would suffer in the world. However, we have witnessed the

suffering and death of many Christians since the founding of

Christianity. If Jesus Christ was crucified for the sins of St. Peter, then

why was St. Peter also crucified?

39 | P a g e

Then said I to Vishnu – Many Christians have indeed suffered and died

since the time of Christ. However, this is not due to the judgment of

God. To ask why Christians suffer is like asking why God permits us to

remain in this world after converting. Our ministry is to lead others to

Christ, and during the course of this blessed ministry, we may at times

avail ourselves to martyrdom and persecution (though the miraculous

gift of the Spirit has equipped us for it). Nevertheless, in Paradise, we

will be healed of every hardship endured for the service of the gospel.

With that, Vishnu disappeared in a puff of smoke and I turned to find

myself in an arid desert. A man in a turban approached me holding a

book in his hand. The book was the Qur‟an and the man was

Muhammad.

Peace be unto you – said Muhammad – God is One. The first of the Ten

Commandments says not to worship any god besides the one true God.

Why do the People of the Book believe that God is a Trinity when the

prophet Jesus (peace be unto him) never mentioned a trinity in any of

the gospels? Also, the prophet Jesus (peace be unto him) said „My

Father is greater than I‟.

I answered Muhammad and said – The doctrine of the Trinity is not a

doctrine of three gods. It is a description of the nature of God as he is

revealed in Scripture. Also, Mosaic Law mandates at least two or three

witnesses in which case a unitarian deity would be incapable of

establishing itself. When Christ said that he was lesser than his Father,

he spoke from the standpoint of his humanity whereas our Savior is both

fully human and fully divine without contradiction.

Muhammad continued – The People of the Book are the enemies of

Allah. They say that people can go to heaven no matter what they do.

But Jesus (peace be unto him) taught that people cannot enter heaven

unless they obey the Law. So would you rather obey Jesus or Paul who

says that the Law is dead (and he was not even one of the original

disciples?)

40 | P a g e

There is no variance between Christ and his apostles – I answered – But

when Christ was crucified, the veil of the temple was rent in twain,

restoring the relationship between man and God premised upon a desire

to obey rather than actual obedience. But the right to be forgiven is by

no means a right to transgress. Otherwise, we blaspheme the Holy

Ghost.

Muhammad persisted – The People of the Book say that Jesus (peace be

unto him) died for their sins, but this is not true. Allah made Judas to

look like Jesus (peace be unto him) so that he would be crucified instead

of Jesus. That‟s why Judas cried out to Allah saying, „Why have you

forsaken me‟.

I answered Muhammad and said – Judas could not have crucified

because he was a sinner. If the Messiah sinned, then he would need

someone to die for his sins which would disqualify him as the Messiah.

Thus, Jesus must have endured his Passion without sinning in order to

save the world which was created by God the Father for just that

purpose (and wouldn‟t have been otherwise.)

With that, Muhammad disappeared in a puff of smoke and I turned to

find myself in a brimstone cavern lit up by pools of flaming sulfur.

Standing in front of me was a red man with goat horns protruding from

his forehead and hooves for feet. It was Lucifer and I was in hell.

Thus saith Lucifer – I believe in God the Father and in his Son Jesus

Christ who died for the sins of the world. However, I reject this god

because he is evil. He formed me and made me sin in order to fulfill his

purpose of saving man. He predestined me to sin in order so that I

would glorify him to his followers.

I answered Lucifer and said – God does not make anybody sin. Neither

does evil glorify God. However, once sin had entered into his creation,

God entered into his creation in order to preserve it from the sin of

Adam, subjecting his flesh to the scourge of Original Sin for the sake of

the elect.

41 | P a g e

Lucifer persisted – Jesus said his words would judge you. The Word of

God says that God hardened Pharaoh‟s heart in the story of the Exodus,

causing him not to let the people go before killing all of Egypt‟s

firstborn. God also says „Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated.‟ In

Isaiah, God says „I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace,

and create evil: I the LORD do all these things.‟ The Israelites

exterminated the Canaanites (women, children and cattle included) and

they did so by the commandment of God and the Ark as their battle

standard. Clearly, the Christian God is evil and the author of it.

I answered Lucifer and said – God does say that he created evil, hated

Esau, and hardened Pharaoh‟s heart. Many times in Scripture, God

speaks corporately on behalf of an Ultimate Reality which is inclusive of

both good and evil. The Pharisees also accused Christ of casting out

devils by the power of Beelzebub, but Christ avers that a house divided

cannot stand. Reality has become corrupt by mankind‟s sin, but the one

who gave birth to it is Immaculate.

With that, Lucifer disappeared in a puff of smoke and I turned to find

myself standing before a city of jewels. The gates of the city were made

of pearl and when they opened, St. Peter came out to greet me.

Grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God,

and of Jesus our Lord – St. Peter said. And that was when I realized that

the more I knew, the less I had to say.

The Desert

I drilled for oil. But in order to get to the oil, I first had to cross a

desert. Once I had crossed the desert, I had to penetrate it. I had to

bring what was underneath the desert up to the surface. There are winds

in the desert, and mirages. It is easy to become lost.

I came across a man in the desert – a camel trader. He told me where I

could find oil. He said that oil could be found in the desert. That is why

I came to the desert – to drill for oil.

42 | P a g e

Native Tree Spirit

I had a vision of you as a big tree:

one who bears her fruit in the spring;

one who renders shade in the summer;

beautiful colors in the cool of autumn;

and in the dead of winter,

you prepare for the renewal of the following spring.

Once, my heart was moved with a sudden pathos

as I wondered how glorious this endless cycle appeared.

Throughout all seasons,

the memory of this glorious vision of you

shall hide me under its immutable branches.

El Oro de San Clemente

¡Capitán, estamos hundiendo! – cried the first mate as the torrent

raged. But the captain was possessed. He visto peor que esto... – he

brooded. ¿Qué? – the crewman pleaded, unable to comprehend.

Meanwhile, the San Clemente continued to toss violently, the shouts of

her crewmates answered only by the snapping of her disintegrating

wooden hull.

It was then that the cabin door flung open revealing a drenched friar,

clutching a coral Rosary against his chest. But the captain remained

obstinate – ¿What do you want?

The friar grunted – The waves are getting very high now and the

crewmen believe that in order for us to remain afloat, we must jettison

some of the cargo.

¡Por qué! – the captain winced. ¡I‟m too old to make another voyage

to Cartagena! ¡I won‟t return without my investment!

43 | P a g e

Well then you won‟t return. – surmised the friar.

¿What do you mean by that?

But the friar persisted – What I mean is that your obsession with

wealth is corrupting your judgment and endangering your crew.

¿My judgment? – howled the captain – ¿Are you questioning my

judgment?

The first mate started for the door. ¡No, stay! – the captain ordered as

he then turned to the friar – Tell me about my judgment...

But the friar held his peace, and his peace remembered:

It remembered the sights and sounds of a scattered crew on a battered

deck;

The decision to sail in August against the advice of the navigator;

The Inca slaves on the coffee plantation;

Above them flies the fortification;

Turrets with their soldiers stationed;

Smelted fetishes, murdered shaman;

Temple cities left abandoned;

Catholics serving God and mammon.

As it is with this Capitán, so shall it be with the entire Conquista;

¡Your greed will be your undoing!

But the captain snarled – ¡Mutinous monk, you know nothing!

Snap!

The mast ripped apart as the San Clemente keeled over onto its side,

water rushing into every cabin with a deafening fury! Blood in the

water! – the friar still holding onto his coral Rosary as his lungs

asphyxiated!

. . . . . . .

The storm subsided.

Seagulls screeching on a painted pink sunset hanging on the wall of

the Jolly Roger Social Club, Jamaica‟s hottest tourist destination (if only

for the lack of air conditioning!)

44 | P a g e

Above the chatter of the bustling barroom, rose an American accent,

loud and obnoxious as the Hawaiian shirt and neon-green swimming

trunks worn by its owner. Of course, Hawaiian culture is quite similar to

that of Jamaica (if only for the Bob Marley T-shirts which I‟m sure are

being sold in every Waikiki gift shop!)

And this one, I got from a dive off the coast o‟Antigua, – he bragged,

flashing his trusty (albeit rusty) Spanish doubloon before the

supposedly-disinterested bar attendant (who, unbeknownst to him, never

passed her bar exam!)

„Dat is reel good! – she smiled in her patent patios – But I cyan‟t

figgah out why yuh gaan into treasuh hunting – „dat is serious bizness!

Well, – the American gushed – I guess I‟ve been inter‟sted in treasure

huntin‟ ever since I‟s a child growin‟ up in Little Rock... (don‟t worry,

you probbly never heard of it)... yep, always listenin‟ to them tales

o‟pirates and buried treasure – so‟s I figured, all that treasure down

there just waitin‟ for someone t'just come‟n‟gettit!...

Yah‟mon... Whatteva mek yuh feel nice... – the hostess grinned as she

opened her patron‟s Red Stripe with a machete.

But the American shrugged – Maybe so, maybe no... y‟see, there‟s this

one treasure that always seems to elude me – a Spanish bark that went

down in a hurricane way back in the late 1500s... went by th‟name o‟the

San Clementy – yep, and according to its manifest, it‟d be one o‟the

most expensive finds hands down!... that is, of course, if anyone could

find it...

So why nat you? – the hostess teased.

You kiddin‟ me? – the American scoffed – O boy!, you Jamaicans!...

been eatin‟ too much o‟that there jerk sauce!... but I tell you what, If I

do find the San Clementy, I‟ll give you this restaurant as a tip „cuz that

ship‟s probbly worth half a‟billion easy – and that‟s „billion‟ with a „B‟!

Buenas, – pierced a tinny Hispanic accent – I cud not help

overhearing jou speek uf de San Clemente. Pearhaps I can be uf

searvice...

45 | P a g e

The American turned to find what looked like an elderly man –

(Cuban perhaps?) – redfaced and steely-eyed, cigar tips protruding from

the pockets of his unbuttoned khaki bush-jacket. Welcome to di Jolly

Rojuh! – greeted the hostess.

. . . . . . .

So what‟re you talkin‟ about? – asked the American.

The Cuban answered – Many yeers ago, I was deeee... navigatór por

de recovery vessel... comin-outta Key Vést, jou know?... Anywéh! – we

go down derr, diwing off de cost uf Cartagéna... wi luk for di shipwreck

(jou know de one you talk-about... deeee... San Clemente, jou-know?...

Anywéh! – we hear de radar ping so we send down de diwer and (o-my-

gad!) – we cud not belíve wha‟we find!...

Wooah!! – the American guffawed – You don‟t mean to tell me you

found that San Clementy, do ya? „Cuz you sho‟ don‟t look like no

millionaire!...

Nó, we find it... – the Cuban insisted as the skeptical American

grimaced, but the Cuban remained adamant – de diwer return, come

back and he find de ship‟s markings – so wi know es no lie, mang...

Look, I‟m tellin‟ you... de guy even brough‟me back a subenír...

The Cuban reached into one of his pockets and produced a coral

Rosary.

Whatta ting dat! – ridiculed the Jamaican – Mi tink mi saw „dat saame

ting in di giff shop „crass di street!

Pearhaps... – enticed the Cuban.

But the American tried to put his story to the test – Okay, Señor...

then how come you ain‟t livin‟ out on Star Island?... That‟s where I‟d be

if I found th‟San Clementy!

Nuh pay‟im nuh‟mind, mista! – the Jamaican smarted – Him juss wann

fi someone to invest!...

But the Cuban disarmed her – I am not eeehh... a scammer, nó?... I

hab de coordinates to where jou can find de San Clemente, if you want I

show you...

In exchange for what? – the American pressed.

Nó, no exyange, my fren... I yus wanna-help somebady, jou know?...

46 | P a g e

But the American remained skeptically amused – Alright then, what‟re

the coordinates?

Hol‟on... – the Cuban back-peddled – Férst, tell me why jou wanna

know...

Why I wanna know? Why wouldn‟t I wanna know? That‟s a heap

o‟money just sittin‟ down there at the bottom o‟the ocean!

Oyea, my fren, bot tell me... Whatta jou gonna do wid‟all dat

money?... An‟ be careful how jou answer, my fren... „cus jour answer

will detérmine whether or nó I give jou de coordinates...

Why yuh bodda listen to‟dis man? – the Jamaican smarted – him

definettly afta sumting fi true...

But the American thought for a moment. If he was indeed a scammer

as the hostess had suggested, then what was his scam? And what about

his promise to reveal the coordinates in exchange for a satisfactory

answer to his question? What was his game?

. . . . . . .

Alright, I‟m gonna answer yer question, – the American compromised

– but first, how „bout you tellin‟ me how come you don‟t go and

excavate that wreck yerself!

Well, issa long story, my fren...

I‟m listening.

The Cuban shrugged – Alright... when de captan an‟ I saw dat we had

find de San Clemente, wi dicide nó to tell nobady, eeeeh... de captan say

he wa‟for me to keppit a secret, jou know? – so I no tell no one...

Laad Jesus, what kine-a cockamamie story uno dat, mon? – scoffed

the Jamaican.

No, es for real! – insisted the Cuban – „Dat es wha‟happen! And later,

when de captan try ask mi for de coordinates...

Wooahh!! – the American interrupted – You mean to‟tell me that... you

just didn‟t...

Yessir! – the Cuban averred – I yust remind de captan wha‟he said

„dat nó to tell nobady an‟ so when he ask me later I no se nothing, jou

know wha‟I mean, mang?...

Yuh too lie! – squealed the Jamaican – eidda dat or yuh muss be mad!

The American also chastised him – Boy, that‟s a good one!...

47 | P a g e

. . . . . . .

The Cuban put the coral Rosary back into his shirt pocket and turned

to leave.

Wait! – cajoled the American – Let‟s say you‟re right and that you do

know how t‟git to th‟San Clementy... If you‟re sworn not t‟reveal its

location, then why would you tell me?

But the Jamaican rolled her eyes in disdain.

Well I war prepared to keppit a secret „til my dying déy, but jou know

what? – the Cuban answered – De captan, eeeeh... (how-do-jou-say?)...

bitt me to it!...

Wot yuh tellin me? – the Jamaican wheezed – Yuh meen to seh dat

juss cause de captin fi dead, yuh nuh longa hafta obey him?

¡Claro! – the Cuban smiled, forgetting (as he often did) that he was

not in a Spanish-speaking country.

Okay, – the American reluctantly conceded – I‟m not sure I‟m buyin‟

all this, but... let‟s just say that if I had that money, I‟d buy me a house

on Star Island and live it up!

An‟ don‟ feget to invite me! – added the Jamaican half-jokingly.

But the Cuban was unconvinced – Alright... bot why jou wha‟to live en

Star Island?

„Cuz that‟s where th‟rich people live! – the American answered.

Wha‟you minn by „rich‟?

Well, uhhh...

He‟mean dem hav money, mon! – surmised the Jamaican – Dem cyan

do watteva dem wann fi do! an‟ nuh haffi worry „bout when dem nex

paycheck goine com‟in, yu‟undastann?

Ahhh... – the Cuban understood – I see... bot rich pipple, de hab

worries too, nó?

Some of‟em! – the American reckoned.

Right, so jou see my fren, money es nó de answer to ev‟rythíng...

A‟true dat! – the Jamaican relented as the American appeared to nod

in agreement.

. . . . . . .

48 | P a g e

Well I tell you what, you show me how‟ta get to th‟San Clementy, and

I‟ll split it with you fifty-fifty! – the American haggled.

For wha‟? – asked the Cuban – Jou know if I wan‟ de money, I go

gettit myself, no prollem...

So then why don‟t you?

Issimple, mang, I don‟need de money...

Wot! – gasped the Jamaican – Yuh muss be indipendantly wealty!...

The Cuban laughed as she continued to marvel...

How yuh neva tell me dat yuh rich so!

But the American was all the more determined to figure him out –

Well then if you don‟t need th‟money, how „bout I just give yer fifty to

charity!

But the Cuban reached once again into his pocket and brandished the

coral Rosary. Ahhh... give to de poor! – he ruminated as the tiny gold

crucifix dangled from the glistening beads – and for why would you do

this, Papíto?

The American said nothing as the hostess disappeared into the kitchen.

What a conundrum? If he said he would give to the poor in order to

attain something for himself, he would be unworthy of that which he

had hoped to attain (and thus would not receive it); but if he confessed

his unworthiness in order to give to the poor altruistically, then that

which he had hoped to attain from the wreck of the San Clemente would

no longer be his, but instead would belong to the poor whom he himself

would undoubtedly join.

But as for the Cuban (assuming he even was a Cuban), he left the Jolly

Roger Social Club with his secret as yet untold, praising the LORD and

still clutching his treasured coral Rosary against his chest. But before he

exited, he turned once again to the frustrated man at the bar.

Bléssed es de poor en espirit, – he said – Por der‟s es de kíngdom de

Habana...