The believers will damn me (further?) as a heathen while the heathens (and now,  new heathen lite!) like witty elves and sprites will say I’ve sold out – but so what – or maybe I’m crazy even to try – which puts me in rare company indeed because [assuming he ever existed] so was he.

The reason JESUS can never die – although that white-robed nazarene you probably picture may have kicked the bucket in faroffstan at a ripe old age, with perhaps even some progeny…no, the reason JESUS can never die – although the guy’s name wasn’t that at all, but the aramaic Yeshoua…no, the reason JESUS can never die is that this sound has come to resemble the heart of an infant, a child before it speaks [which is, of course, what infant means] when it still knows that Love.Is. All.

The reason these two syllables and the story they swathe can never die has nothing to do with Rome and, say, hey, maybe once and for all let’s get it straight – Rome didn’t become christian in any meaningful way, christianity became roman – an empire millitant barbaric orthodox unloving and intolerant. But JESUS – the story of that angel child on whose back that church was nevertheless built – can never die. JESUS returns like verdant spring and springs – eternal rhythm – in the heartbeat of every newborn babe with almond eyes or hazel, raven hair or chestnut, rosy-cheeked or dark or in-between. Every infant knows The Truth and the best of the man grown retains it.

JESUS is not of a religion. JESUS is a blessèd lullaby we can almost remember, humming. JESUS is that ancient – ageless – welling up inside denied, the tears of the repeated failure  we try so hard to hide.




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