Christians from Outer Space

Did the Mangod, Jesus, only visit

this bluish and rock-strewn planet alone?

Was His life, symbolic or explicit, 

exclusive to these mortals and their own?

‘Tis vain to presume that we primates,

homo sapiens, here on this third orb,

were solely entrusted with transcendent fates, 

the divine truth ours alone to absorb.

Imagine, then, that of myriad Earths,

ours hosted just an instant of His grace,

where despite the Christ’s immaculate birth

He was treated ill by our fickle race. 

Step under the starry dome of our sky

and ponder Saviors at each point on high.

 

In Virgo, there’s a terrestrial globe 

Where the Kabballax profess deference

to a God virgin-spawned by divine probe, 

perfect from any frame of reference.

There, the Incarnate was duly installed

by rite of proboscis circumcision,

leader of the Council, its members called

to spread an ecumenical vision,

espoused through prophecies and miracles

persuasive enough to arrest all doubt, 

proving true faith through valid oracles

and peace that no creature need live without.

Thus, this deity duly presided 

over a world where goodwill resided.

 

Did the All-Loving Godhead then finish?

Nay, next She augured on a satellite

orbiting a gas giant in Canis,

where Her mission became a wretched plight.

Inhabited by Ologists, the minds

of this world dismissed Her revelation,

for prejudice and dogma always blinds

and base comfort is enough salvation. 

So, upon bare, blistered and bleeding feet

She wandered alone across harsh terrain,

unheard, bent under the weight of defeat

only wind-driven dust to hear Her pain.

Another prophet with no following,

pursued only by her own shadowing.

 

Preach – through whatever open orifice,

in sonorous echoes or voiceless song,

snorts or sonar to the rapt populace,

by any means understood by the throng.

Pray – raising clenched fists, in brow-twisting thought,

while babbling glossolaliac nonsense

that belief dictates must be so if sought

by invoking a god in present tense.

Profess – declare faith, bear eager witness

to revealed doctrine or such sure dogma

told by priest, soothsayer, or pythoness

bearing soul-to-flesh soldered stigmata.

What’s sensed by spirit becomes ritual

when reduced to memes and made scriptural.

 

Whither next will the Omniscient traverse

to inspire more novel epiphanies? 

Whether mocked and abused, or praised in verse, 

each virgin birth brings hopes and infamies. 

Perchance the transcendent wandering Word 

shall sojourn with Dharma in Orion,

whose cults expect an amiable Lord

smiling behind the aqua horizon.

So, somewhere, an improved Christ may appear,

for better aliens with free will to choose

whether It reveals a truth to revere,

or spews blasphemy to scorn and refuse.

Any god can be lauded or denied,

and thus adored, ignored, or crucified.

 

Amen.    

Gregg Sapp is a Pushcart Prize nominated writer, librarian, college teacher and academic administrator. He is the author of the “Holidazed” series of satirical novels, each of which is centered around a different holiday. The first two books, “Halloween from the Other Side” and “The Christmas Donut Revolution,” will be published in 2019 by Evolved Publishing. His previous books include "Dollarapalooza" (Switchgrass Books, 2011) and “Fresh News Straight from Heaven,” based upon the life and folklore of Johnny Appleseed (Evolved, 2018). He has published humor, poetry, and short stories in Defenestration, Waypoints, Semaphore, Kestrel, Zodiac Review, Marathon Review, and been a frequent contributor to Midwestern Gothic, and others. Gregg lives in Tumwater, WA.

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