At a meeting of the Godhead and a few other bigwigs, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit or to be a bit more politically correct, the Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer were having some thoughts among themselves. The lesser Celestials broke the silence and wondered out loud if anyone was going to offer a suggestion for a solution to the seemingly intractable problem of the perennially shrinking church.
The Trinity said in unison, “Sorry, after so much time together, we just all know each other’s thoughts, so there is no need to speak; besides, silence is kind of nice once in a while. All we get around here these days is tech-speak and stats., stats., stats. and endless one line, mono-melodic praise music, yadda, yadda, yadda,” at which point the three looked at each other and said simultaneously, “You two owe me a coke.”
The others just shook their heads and looked at each other quizzically and one said, “This happens all the time. These meetings are so boring and nothing gets accomplished. We’ve done feasibility studies, market research, studied business plans from Harvard Business School from which George W. Bush graduated and still no answers, surprise, surprise,” at which point they all stared at the spread sheets in front of them cluttering the Ark of the Covenant.
Suddenly, the gates flew open while St. Peter was on break and Lucifer rushed in on an updraft of hot air. Apparently, the once bright and shining Morning Star, now tarnished angel, had a rather bright idea.
“You guys and you, too, Ms. Spirit, need to get a little heat under your seat and spice up your life. I specialize in that stuff. The problem is that you all are so boringly prosaic. Cold, cold, cold. You need to think poetically. Hot, hot, hot. You are all invited to our next poetry slam. The winner gets a ‘Get Out of Hell’ free card good for one trip to El Dia de los Muertos or Cinco de Mayo, during which more beer is consumed than at any other festival in America. My hunch is the choice will be Cinco, and that’s a no brainer, because having been down here, they have worked up a big thirst and besides, who wants to hang around a lot of dead people?”
At which point the Godhead and all the other Celestials thought, Qui pasa? and shouted,
“What, in heaven’s name are you doing here
but now that we too have worked up a big thirst,
please go get us some micro-brewed beer.
Why do you think we are all here?
Just to scare out hell and fear?
We just want to bring more love near
to those who live in mortal fear
and have sold their souls far and near
to the gods of money, power and fear.
Do we make ourselves clear?”
Lucifer thought for a moment and a light
bulb went off really bright
and said, “Well, before I take flight,
I must say your poetry is really, really light,
not too deep and not of much might
for such a weighty bunch,
but, it’s a start and you’re on the path just right,
so I leave you to your poetry and I am on
a down draft flight
to a place with not much light
but burning coals and red-hot
chili with lots of bite.”
And the Godhead spoke with strength and might
saying together, “I think we are out of our plight.
I guess we can learn something from this Once Star
So Bright. It’s poetry, good or bad, that we must write.”
Then they looked at each other and said in one voice very clear,
“You two owe me a really cold beer. We think we have some up here.”