“We are going to put on the armor of God,” Kari Lake, the Arizona Republican candidate for Senate said to cheering supporters. “And maybe strap on a Glock on the side of us just in case.” — “Kari Lake Urges Supporters to Arm Themselves Ahead of Election,” NYTimes.com, April 16, 2024
On the night he was supposed to be betrayed, Jesus
strapped on a Glock under his cloak, just in case
the breastplate of righteousness didn’t hold up.
The boys arrived in the upper room, ready
for whatever the Son of Man might offer up,
but when he got down on his knees to lace
the boots of the Lord’s army, it seemed abrupt.
Are we really doing this? Shouldn’t we eat first?
Before he took the bread, he broke down, said,
This is my body and it will not be a victim. The crew
looked haggard, like they could use a little
motivation, so before he drank from the cup,
he lifted it up—imagine this is blood—he yelled,
poured out from our enemies, and then he drank it.
That got them on their feet. We’ll take up this cup
again a few hours from now, Jesus said, but not before
we toss back one more. He stared at Judas, I know
what you’re up to, his eyes like polished daggers.
Judas left, bewildered. Isn’t this what he wanted?
In the garden, Jesus checked his hip, checked
his ammunition, checked his 9mm. When he saw
the mob coming he fired first. Ask questions
later. Why wait for the wine-stained lips of some
betrayer? Peter drew his sword in vain. Before
they could even begin, it was finished. Jesus saved
himself and his followers from the coming crucifixion,
the garden of Good Friday, their final expedition.
Later, when two survivors made their way back
to Emmaus, they lamented how the bloodbath
happened, on Passover no less, the sacrificial lamb
they had hoped would be their Savior turned
Prince of the Slaughter. It was so typical,
they complained, Jesus just another
run-of-the-mill messiah with a machete,
mowing down the wheat and weeds
for a better view of trespassers that might
malign his legacy. But at least he stood
for something. At least he didn’t go down
without a fight.
Photo by Boston Public Library on Unsplash
I like this exposé of today’s blasphemous mix of Jesus and violence. Nothing like sarcasm to set the record straight.