Playing with the ideas of shock and awe about what we say we believe about Christmas. I don’t know about some people, but I get off track this season easily. I stop being a fool for Christ and really just end up being a fool for self. This is a ditty really, not a poem, but perhaps a way to start making myself focus on Christ-Mass and maybe jump start an old brain too used to watching “the Hallmark-approved show” and forgetting the nitty gritty of a God who loved “a worm like I” by becoming one.
Questioning Christmas Signs
By Jane Tawel
December 11, 2015
And this will be a sign to you
A Savior born among goat poo?
And this will be what angels sing
A Jew who will become a King?
And shepherds who are dirty, dumb
Will be the Savior’s first welcome?
What right had she to wear a ring?
This unwed mother bears a King?
A family traveling penniless
Without a forwarding address
Will flee from kings and diatribes—
To Him a crown you will ascribe?
This sort of thing seems lunacy
When asked to worship this baby;
Despite the rumor of Wisemen three
How could I think this child Christly?
And once I heard the end of it,
None of his story even fit,
A man who claimed to be a god
Lashed with whips and beat with rods?
His stupid followers even thought
That he was raised and rolled a rock
To escape hell and reign with God,
Don’t you think too– he was a fraud?
I look around at Christmas time
And wait in endless shopping lines;
I buy and buy and buy and buy
And never once do I ask why?
Why I believe in Santa Claus
And all the season’s fake hooplas,
But cannot find a good reason
To worship Jesus as God’s son?
I worship Yuletide’s dollars and cents
But a swaddled King is pure nonsense.
Or am I living upside down?
And should really kneel before the Crown
Of the babe who came and lived and died
To take us as His holy bride?
In the manger scene, am I really the ass?
To question Holy true Christ Mass?