St. Paul took aim at Pax

Romana tickling Caesar

in the soft spot

below the breast-plate and

belt and just above the

mail protecting his member

and said to the Roman church,

Gird up your loins with

truth, (not Caesar’s, baby –

the un-truth of terror, but

the truth of self-sacrificial

love, the power of the

Cosmos)…take the breast-

plate of righteousness

(not just right livin’, baby,

but justice livin’,

not just about you

not misbehavin’

but about

you collectively livin’

justly with others)…put

on the shoes of peace (not

Caesar’s pox of no-peace

on people,

but the peace that passes

the

warring world’s under-

standing,

the kind the world doesn’t

get or want,

apparently,

the peace between me and

thee — the peace that

refuses to fight and turns

the other

cheek and says, “Go ahead;

hit me with your open fist,

sir, not the back of your hand

and show the world that

I’m your equal,”

and gives the coat,

and puts clothes on the naked,

visits the prisoners, feeds the

hungry, tends to the sick

and sings, “I ain’t gonna study

war no more.”)

…take the shield of faith

(that lets you lay down

your sword and shield of

steel down by the riverside

and open your heart

and arms, not that which

harms, in courage)…take

the helmet of salvation (not

Caesar’s salvation, which

subjects the subjects but

which lifts up life over

death

and destruction) and

pray, pray, pray not

slay, slay, slay.

And the Roman Church

shouted, “Jesus, the poverty

stricken, peace lovin’, itinerate

preacher, teacher,

healer is

our Lord and Savior,

not Caesar,”

who lay on

the ground still laughin’

from St. Paul’s ticklin’ stick

and he couldn’t get up

because of all

that heavy

armor.