quite frankly you've put me to shame -
and not for the reasons you think.
my beloveds:
it's your hatred.
i sat in on one of your congregations.
i heard the words you put in my mouth and i smiled, sadly,
at your empty trying.
i heard about that man who performed what you call miracles,
and i heard the words you put in his mouth and i laughed, genuinely,
at how much store you put in a little age-old gossip.
but then i heard the whisperings:
and i have to ask you.
all this behaving as if you know me,
and dancing around with me in your hearts,
and you think i care,
you think i care about those two women
who love each other?
those two men with their beautiful children?
those millions of others?
you think i didn't make them that way -
special,
free,
and just the same as you?
you think you earn my favor,
accusing and oppressing your brothers, your sisters?
you think i smile on your closed minds?
you bring shame on yourselves.
my ad-libbed wrath, i can laugh at that,
and that man from galilee,
i can smile at your childish clinging.
but i didn't make you with hatred.
i didn't make you to see differences as anything
but a celebration.
if someone had told me this is what would take shape,
in my name,
i would have pointed at you hateful few,
and i would have said,
god forbid
(and i do)
that you spread this poison.