“You should,” they told me, “be a pastor.”
“Your voice is soothing and deep.”
I could’ve been a soothsayer,
But I resisted the temptation knowing
It is good for a man to remain as he is.
I am not a pastor, nor a pastor’s son,
But I tend electric sheep, providing
Virtual entertainment for the masses,
Pulling the digital wool under their eyes.
So I have not mastered divinity, and
My doctrine remains undoctorate, but
I may yet have a Word that is
Not trademarked Microsoft. It is:
Be a light to the whole house.
Don’t take Christ’s name in vain.
Don’t be the one to cast the first stone
To chase off the lost sheep.
Deliver God’s love letters even to
The midst of sinners’ celebrations
And do not replace them
With hate mail. Don’t even be
A third wheel, much less steer
God’s courtships into the brambles.
Train to be a marksman with
Your Kalashnikov of kindness;
Shoot early and often.
Do not miss the target; rather
Pay what debtors owe from
The boundless wealth you are given.
Bid the angered legion sit
And share five loaves instead,
Take joy for their strength,
‘Til sister and brother rise,
Gladly shoulder the yoke, and
Plow out the Promised Land.
©2022 M Richter
Santa Fe