I sat in my own church
And listened to a sermon
Where a man preached
To have studied all world religions.
He said, “I know that Hindu’s
Only wish to escape their bodies,
All Muslims only want to kill Christians,
While Jesus Christ is the only God
Who tells us to love someone
More than ourselves.”
The ignorance of that comparison
Collided with the pulse in my spine
Like a blind man trying to hug a locomotive.
Left me feeling flat and derailed.
Reached for the best way to love the messenger
Without upholding his message.
However, when I raised objection of the stereotypes
My pastor painted me like I were whistle blowing
In the prison chapel. Called for a town hall meeting.
Whispered Salem in my ear. Told me
That I was making too big a deal out of all this.
Like caring for my brothers of another faith
And having a backbone this loud
Are something I should work on keeping quiet
See Brother, like you, I too call Christ, God.
I too faith with my hands pressed into gospel.
So with all this talk of love
I figured that a comment like,
“Hindu’s only wish to escape their bodies
And all Muslims only want to kill Christians”
Would have been a prejudice we’d of left at home,
Locked away in our forefathers gas chamber,
Retired and embarrassed but repented of.
I guess maybe we were feeling
A little more Old Testament than usual.
Silly me for believing some traditions,
Like hate speech, are better off dead.
With so much cymbal clanging in those words
Tell me how you justify stereotyping Hindus,
Saying they only wish to escape their bodies
As if they’re only trying to outrun all this gravity and flesh,
Like we Christians aren’t known
For being so concerned with our exit to heaven
That we pay no mind of the hells here on earth. Like we’re
Absolved of our responsibility because we promise to pray about it.
Like a 5-year-old boys rib cage
Protruding from his skin like piano keys-
Hunger? I’ll pray about.
Your next-door neighbors busted lip and bruised throat.
From the third time she “fell down the stairs.”-
Violence? I’ll pray about it.
Prejudice? I’ll pray about it. Poverty? I’ll pray about it.
We are known for treating Eden
Like it were no more than a crime scene alter
For us to pile the chalk outlines of our sins on.
There is nothing noble about
Not taking responsibility for our own actions.
Denial is what escape looks like when it’s too afraid to run.
Just brave enough to harm.
But I’m sorry. I don’t mean to preach.
Because I know how uncomfortable
Some pastors get around soapboxes.
Especially when they’re not the ones
Standing on top of them.
So maybe we could look at the facts
Like, fact: all Muslims only wish to kill Christians…
Except for the 99.1% that do not.
Fact: Permitting stereotypes in the name of God
Only further blurs the line between microphones and an M16?
Stand behind your Guantanamo of a pulpit.
Confuse baptism with waterboarding.
Do handcuffs rust in holy water?
Because clearly some hearts do.
Just ask Rick Perry.
Fact: silence is the easiest form of permission.
And I will not permit you to hate-speak
On behalf of my love
Like you have any idea
What you are doing with your tongue.
Dangling from your lips
Like an oversized bayonet
Too heavy for your mouth, son.
If you don’t think the things said
From that stage really matter
Think about the fact that a soldier
Never picks up a gun,
Much less pulls a trigger, until the order is spoken.
The phrase “firing off your mouth” is not coincidental
Or ironic the way bible is a synonym for canon.
Maybe lockjaw is Gods way of saying
Be sure the safety’s on.
And above all else be very
Careful where you aim that thing
Cause you never know who you might hit
When it goes off.
