Off the Top

of My Head

Stephen M. Lindo

© Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved

Stephen M. Lindo
stephen.montgomery.lindo@gmail.com
Contents
Ears 2 Hear 1
The Garden of Eden 2
Inspiration 3
Sonny and the Big Boss 4
A Rose Arose 6
The Brave Knight 6
The Price 9
The Axeman 10
Lady in Waiting 12
The Buddha and the Christ 16
Trelawny Triptych 16
A Bat Without a Cave 18
The Parable of the Box 18
The Great Fish 19
Love Can 23
Pray-cation 23
Lady of Lanzhou 25
Thai-dye 26
Fortune Cookie Wisdom 27
Holding On 30
The LORD’s Day 31
On the Bottle 34
Sky High 34
Greta und die Gestapo 35
Style Matters 36
Imagine I’m an Enigma 37
When I died... 37
The Desert 41
Native Tree Spirit 42
El Oro de San Clemente 42
 Ears 2 Hear
Everywhere you hear me
Hoping you'll come near me
Hoping you won't fear me
Hoping you‟ll revere me

Why did you forsake me

Worshipping the fake me
Punishment to break me
Sacrifice you make me

Maybe you don't know me

Thought you were below me
Why can‟t you just show me
Just how much you owe me?

Though you never knew me

Now you know the true me
Living new life through me
Giving praises to me

Everyone around you

Tries so hard to drown you
But my love will ground you
It always was bound to

He is real, I swear it
Trust that you are near it
Take your cross and bear it
Now you've got the spirit
 The Garden of Eden
Nothing inspires me to create more than spending time in the Garden of
Eden. There used to be a tree in the midst of the garden – an almond tree
that we once called the Tree of Knowledge. But now that tree has been
cut down due to its obstruction of the view of the sea. The garden is on
the Caribbean Sea and although the sun beats mercilessly down on the
tender plants, a cool, salty sea breeze is its saving grace.

Among the plants of the garden are ferns, orchids, frangipanis,

hibiscuses, and crotons. Exorias and bougainvilleas form a colorful
wreath around the almond tree stump. Walls designed to stay out
grazing cows are camouflaged by rows of willow trees. Eggshells found
at the bases of these trees are telltale signs of hidden nests that rest atop
their branches. Later, the willows will sing out in a natural evensong,
composed and conducted by the night wind whisping through their firs.
Closer to the seawall grow silver button trees (so-called because of their
small silver-colored leaves). Silver buttons are one of the few plants that
can grow along the seawall due to their uncanny ability to withstand the
wind and salt. They also make brilliant hedges.

Just as it was in Biblical Eden, my father‟s garden possesses many herbs

and trees yielding fruit for meat. Although not exactly a fruit, the
coconut trees bear coconuts several times a year whose meat and milk
may be served chilled. Our mango tree is a miniature and bears only one
or two dozen mangos per season. So small is it that we call it our bonsai
mango tree. We grow callaloo (a native spinach) which may be boiled
and scotch bonnet pepper which will certainly liven up any dish. We
also have a mint plant, the leaves of which may be boiled to make a
great-tasting mint tea and our gardener grows a stalk of sugarcane that
may be chewed to extract its sweetness.

In addition to plants and trees, there are several animal species that may
be found foraging about the garden. Among the most common are the
hummingbird (which Jamaicans call Dr. Bird because it visits every
flower like a doctor making his rounds) and the ubiquitous land crabs
that stand guard at the mouths of their freshly-dug holes. You can eat
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them if you know how to catch them (and our gardener says that the best
way is to step on them while reaching down and grabbing them from
behind, avoiding their dangerously sharp pincers). Egrets follow cows
hoping to feed off the insects and worms that are attracted by their dung
and long-legged herons have also been seen. Pelicans hover over the
shallow reef that lies beyond the seawall and occasionally crash into the
water for a fish with a loud splash. They can stay underwater for a long
time, surfacing far from the place where they dove in.

Inspiration
Freedom goes where freedom wills;
Bondage binds where bondage kills.

Endless pathways may we take;

All but one we must forsake.

Inspiration lights our path;

Saving man from certain wrath.

With these lights are guided we;

But the choice to choose is free.

Freedom then we must embrace,

If we are to live in grace.

But if choice we should deny,

On the cross we doth rely.

Nor must we put love on trial;

No one lives in life‟s denial.

Choose this day our God the LORD;

And you‟ll have a sure reward.

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 Sonny and the Big Boss
“Sonny! Where ya‟ been hiding?” said the Big Boss with a forced grin
on his face. Behind him was the doorway to his palatial estate on the
upper east side. The brisk autumn air and newly fallen leaves belied the
armed bodyguards and ever-present surveillance cameras, all of which
afforded the mafia kingpin the best peace of mind dirty money could
buy.

Sonny got out of his car and greeted his boss with the obligatory kiss on
the cheek.
“I ain‟t hiding no more,” he said. “I‟m born again.”

The Big Boss chuckled, “What‟re ya‟ tellin‟ me? Am I not paying you
enough?”
“I can‟t take it anymore!” Sonny charged. “I can‟t eat! I can‟t sleep! I
can‟t face myself in the mirror anymore knowing the horrible things I‟ve
done to undeserving people! I want out!”
“Okay, relax,” said the Big Boss in a soothing voice. “C‟mon inside. I‟ll
have the missus fix you drink.”
“I‟ll pass,” said Sonny coolly. He followed the Big Boss inside the
house, through the dining room, into the den, and then out to the
poolside patio. The two sat down on wicker chairs facing the heated
swimming pool.

“Listen to me. You‟ve done nothing wrong,” protested the Big Boss.
“You say you hurt undeserving people, but that‟s just not true.
Everybody I put a hit on – all of them – were no-good scum. You did
the world and everybody a huge favor by making examples out of
them!”
Sonny answered, “I used to think like that too, but now I know that
nobody deserves to get hurt in any way – no matter what they‟ve done!
And even if they truly did deserve to get hurt, God doesn‟t need me or
anyone to enforce his justice. Vengeance belongs to him and him
alone.”
“And that‟s where we come in!” fumed the Big Boss, “We are God‟s
angels of vengeance in the world! We are doing his will when we punish
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lowlifes and traitors and finks! And it sends a message to anybody else
who might try to act up!”
“But that‟s just it!” declared Sonny, “We‟re all finks! If it were up to us
to enforce vengeance, we would execute the world and then ourselves!
But since God has forgiven us, we should be angels of mercy, not
vengeance.”
Suddenly the door opened. It was the missus holding a drink in her
hand. “Not now!” snapped the Big Boss, a vein popping out of his
forehead. She slinked back into the house.

“You‟ve changed,” said the Big Boss with a snarl, “You forgot where
you came from. You forgot how this world mistreated you… told you
you were nothing. You were branded because of your looks and your
last name. They wanted to throw you away and now you‟re making
excuses for them, tellin‟ me that we‟re all like that! Well, we‟re not all
like that! And just because there‟s no perfect person, or because I‟m not
a perfect person, that doesn‟t equate me with them! I‟m not them!”
“I agree with you that the world we live in is cruel,” started Sonny, “But
if we repay evil for evil, then we‟re just like them! Don‟t you see? We
have a chance to end this war! They hit us so we hit them – we hit them
so they hit us – it doesn‟t end „til somebody decides to take the last hit!”

The Big Boss laughed, “You want peace? You‟re a peacemaker?

Blessed be the peacemakers? I keep the peace! There ain‟t no peace
without me! Let me ask you something... What do you think would
happen on the streets tomorrow if word got out that the Big Boss had
gone soft? There‟d be mayhem! An iron fist is keeping this organization
together and preventing violence! These streets would explode were it
not for me!”
“You can‟t preempt violence with violence,” countered Sonny, “If the
streets erupt because you loosen your grip, that ain‟t your business.
Besides, maybe if you choose peace, others will follow your lead.”
The Big Boss became indignant, “No, Sonny. Unlike you, I do have a
responsibility to the people who stood by me through thick and thin. I
won‟t desert them! Not the way you‟re deserting me! And after I took
you in and made you my apprentice and gave you your life! And
protected you from things you‟ll never know about! But you know
nothing of loyalty!”

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“I‟m still loyal to you!”
“No you‟re not.” replied the Big Boss smugly.
“Yes I am!” Sonny shot back, “and I‟m more loyal to you now than I
ever was! Look at me! Before, I was loyal to you out of fear! But now,
I‟m loyal to you out of love! As I look at you, I see a man who has
become something he never wanted to be! You don‟t have to be this
way! You don‟t have to sleep with one eye open!”

The Big Boss couldn‟t believe what he was hearing. “Alright, Sonny,
tell me what you want.”
“I want you to let me go,” answered Sonny.
“And what‟re you gonna‟ do if I let you go?” asked the Big Boss. “Are
you gonna‟ get a 9 to 5? Are you gonna‟ pay your taxes and become a
law-abiding citizen? You‟ll just be exchanging one criminal gang for
another.”

A Rose Arose
A rose, I suppose,
grows and grows and grows and grows,
but no one knows why

The Brave Knight

In his hour of grief, the king summoned his knight.
How shall I serve thee, my lord? spaketh he.
The matter for which I have called you is dire;
My daughter, a dastardly wizard absconded
Wherefore I hath sent thee to win her release;
And if thou shalt save her, I offer ye this:
Her hand and mine kingdom to thee shalt be given
And thou shalt be called by my name, spake the king.

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So off went the knight on a quest for his maiden
O‟er hill and valley upon a white steed.
And there did he survey the wizard‟s dark castle
Which rose from the spines of a perilous cliff.
Found he the lass in a high tower sealed.

Render the damsel! he cried to the wizard.

Never I shall, the gaunt figure replied,
Lest thou mayest prove thyself worthy of honour;
To a man without fear shall I render the lass.

But the knight protested, I hath not a fear!

Prove it to me and the lady is thine!
Give me a test that my courage may prove!
Thus sprach the wizard, This shall ye do:
Conquer the dragon which lives in the dungeon.
Whose face is as wracked as the stench of his drool;
Who raises his neck on the strength of his haunches
Then may I know that thy fear hath ye conquered.

Therefore the knight with his sword and a torch

Walked into the darkness so dismal and bleak.
With each halting step, he had mustered his courage,
Ginning his temper to meet the fierce beast.

Twas there sighted he the most wretched of visions,

From billowing nostrils went plumes of white smoke,
A terrible beast with its wings outstretched,
Revealing sharp shards of glistening scales
Whilst twisting its head of putrid green.

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Now will I slay thee! howled the knight in his rage.
But the dragon entreated, Why doest so thus?
For to slay me in no wise shalt prove thyself fearless
As next to me stands yet another more fearsome.
Then him shall I slay! spaketh he with conviction.
But pleaded the dragon, Wherefore doest thou?
As there is not an end to the terrors of hell,
For hell is its terror: the dragon supplanting
That which ye hath conquered is ever more gruesome
„Til hell be confounded with dragons so fierce,
That nary a soul could ever requite it!

What then shall I do? spake the knight to the dragon.

To prove myself fearless and rescue my lass?
Then spake the wise dragon, A heart without fear
Beats not in the man who hast conquered all dragons,
But rather it beats in the sinner who dares
To serve every man as he would his own God
For a love that is perfect shall cast out all fear.

From thence, emerged the brave knight from his dungeon

And the wizard beseeched him, Hast thou foundest courage?
At last hath I learned, spake the knight with great joy,
That to conquer one‟s fears is an errand of folly.
But find ye the courage that walketh away,
Confessing thine fears to the Blessed Redeemer
Who findeth the grace that restoreth thy soul!

Thus was the lady restored to her land

And with the king‟s blessing she gavest her hand.
And thus was he granted his kingdom and throne
And every good blessing to calleth his own
In the name of the king who forever shall stand.

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 The Price
Press
Reporters
Investigating
Corporate
Excesses
Peter
Righteously
Insisting
Christ
Existed
People‟s
Republic
Imprisoning
Chinese
Evangelists
Pastors
Reaching
Insightful
Conclusions
Eventually
Prosperity
Ruined
In
Christian
Endtimes
Pauline
Revision
Is
Circumcision‟s
Extinction
Play
Rewind
Insert
Copy
Eject
Please
Remember
It
Cannot
End
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 The Axeman
“Why did you send out that memo!” shrieked the secretary.
“What memo?” her boss coolly inquired.
“The memo about the axeman who‟s coming to take away our jobs!”
“Oh, that memo!” the boss disingenuously recalled. “Well, as I
explained in the memo, our board of directors has decided that in order
to increase productivity and maximize profits, downsizing measures
need to be implemented.”
“Maximize profits for who?” the secretary shot back. “The purpose of
Management should be to help employees reap the rewards of their
labor, not to maximize profits for shareholders at the expense of
workers.”
The boss could only laugh, “It‟s out of my hands. Like I said, this
decision was made at the top. There‟s nothing I can do.”
“Of course there‟s something you can do!” the secretary chided. “You
can call the chairman and explain why they should reverse their
decision!”
“Now why would I do that?” scoffed the boss. “It‟s their show, honey –
I‟m just the executive.”
The secretary winced, “No, you have obligation to fight for your
employees just as we sacrifice for you.”
“And I appreciate the sacrifice!” grinned the boss in feigned offence.
“But sometimes, we‟ve got to bite the bullet for the sake of investors in
order to raise the capital necessary to hire even more workers! That‟s
how wealth is created!”
“No,” glinted the secretary. “It‟s not about making tough decisions, it‟s
about making wise decisions. Let‟s say you decimate the ranks and the
investors swoon. A couple of cycles later, you hire us all back, but we
don‟t feel as secure as we once did – we‟re not as loyal as we once were.
But what these board members don‟t understand is that it‟s loyalty, not
strategy, that‟s driving our economy. And there‟s no computer model
for „good will‟ in a world as interdependent as ours is.”
The boss tilted his head forward so as to look at her above the rim of his
eyeglasses, “You know, it‟s hardly likely that you‟ll be one of the ones
laid off.”
“You don‟t get it!” the secretary reluctantly pleaded. “It‟s not about me.
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No worker works for themselves. They work for their families, friends
and neighbors. The invisible hand that guides the free market system is
not mutual self-interest, but individual self-sacrifice.”
“Perhaps,” shrugged the boss. “But my hands are tied. If I challenge the
chairman‟s decisions too much, I might find myself in the
unemployment line.”
“It‟s your job to be assertive!” snapped the secretary. “But if
shareholders wanted a CEO with no spine, then they may as well of
hired SpongeBob SquarePants!”
“Okay,” grumbled the boss. “And SpongeBob would still hire the
downsizing consultant...”
“You mean the axeman.”
“Alright,” the boss groaned. “But just so you know, my spine is not
sponge. I‟ve the backbone of a soldier, and a true soldier does what he‟s
told without question. That‟s why I am where I am.”
“There‟s nothing wrong with soldiering,” answered the secretary. “As
long as you‟re on the winning side.”
“And what side would that be?”

Ding! The elevator door opened. The axeman cometh.

The boss lighted off his leatherette swivel chair and firmly gripped the
consultant‟s hand, “Is this the cost-benefit analysis?”
The axeman handed him the file. “After careful review of the balance
sheets, I believe I‟ve found the best restructuring model which, given
current market trends, should maximize revenue and profitability for our
shareholders.”
“Great!” the boss smiled. “So how deep are the cuts going to be?”
“Cuts?”
“Yeah, job cuts!”
“Okay. Let‟s sit down and discuss this,” invited the axeman, but the
boss could barely stay in his chair (he was so filled with anticipation).
“We‟re shutting down the entire plant and moving it to Guadalajara.”
“What?!”

“I said, we‟re shutting down...”

“Yes... yes... I heard! But what‟s going to happen to me? I‟m under
contract!”

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“Not anymore,” the axeman uttered. “According to subparagraph 51.3c,
the corporation reserves the right to terminate its CEO in the event of a
facility relocation.”
“That‟s it?! After all the years I worked for this firm, this is how you
reward loyalty?!”
“On the corporate battlefield, it‟s the loyal soldiers who perish first.”

Lady in Waiting
There once was a lord who lived in great castle and had dominion over
many towns. He was a steward of the king‟s wealth and had charge over
all the affairs of his reign. He opened doors and shut them, prosecuted
wars and sued for peace. Nonetheless, he was not able to attain to the
throne since in order to do so, he was required to marry a woman of
royal lineage. Therefore, he issued a decree in all the land that should
any willing princess from any kingdom become his bride, he would
make her his queen.

There came two women from afar, one a goodly princess and the other a
wretched handmaiden. While the princess wore a purple gown bedecked
with jewels and crowned with rubies, the handmaiden instead wore rude
apparel and tattered garments, barely concealing her uncouth wooden
shoes.

“Whom shall I marry?” the lord inquired.

“If you marry me,” said the princess, “you will become king.”
Then answered the handmaiden, “I am but an orphan, my lord. I have no
pedigree to speak of, but if you marry me, I will love you like none
other.”
But the lord laughed at the handmaiden, “And how can a poor
handmaiden love me without giving me the kingdom?”
“In me is a kingdom greater than that which ye seek,” she replied, “It is
a kingdom built on love and undying hope.”
“What is love?”
“To love is to obey the son of man.”

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Now when everyone in the land had heard of the handmaiden‟s great
faith and courage, they preferred her over the goodly princess and
petitioned the lord to marry her instead, thus forsaking the crown.

(But the lord preferred the throne to the people, and thus devised a plot
to invalidate the handmaiden‟s faith, allowing him to ascend to power
with the support of the people.)

Thus said the lord, “Am I the son of man?”

“We are all sons of men,” she answered.
“Very well,” he reasoned, “Then I will marry you if you are able to
prove your love to me by obeying my every edict. But if you are not
able to obey my every edict, I will not marry you and will instead marry
the goodly princess, becoming king in all the land.”
“Yes, my lord,” answered the handmaiden. “Anything you ask of me, I
will do.”

The lord thought for a moment, then said, “Tell me a story I‟ve never
heard before.”
The handmaiden applauded his request, then began:

There was once a woman who married a farmer. She loved him very
much and gave him a son, but when he saw how much she loved the
child, he became exceedingly jealous and sent the child away. Then the
woman asked her husband, „Why did you send the child away?‟ to which
the farmer responded, „I sent him away in order so that you would love
me.‟ But the woman said to her husband, „I have always loved you and
always will I ever!‟ When the farmer knew that his wife had forgiven
him for sending the child away, his heart sank. Thus did he repent of his
jealousy and not long after, she gave him yet another son, and they
named him after the first.

“What name would that be?” mocked the lord.

“A name you‟ve never heard before,” she quipped.
Then the lord became furious. “Fine! You‟ve told me a story I‟ve never
heard before. But if you are truly able to do all that I ask of you, sing for
me a song.”
“Which song?”

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“A song that neither I nor anyone has ever heard.”
“Very well,” answered the handmaiden.

So the lord called for his musicians, the lutist and the piper, and as they
began to play, she began to sing:

Anyone who hears me will see

Anyone who sees me will be
Anyone who gives shall receive
Anyone who lives shall believe
Anyone who eats will be filled
Anyone who cheats will be killed
Everything I have is in you
There is nothing more I can do

As the musicians marveled at the handmaiden‟s cunning, the lord rued

the day he met her. It seemed as if no matter what his request, she was
always able to comply, and because he had vowed to marry her upon
that compliance, it was as if the kingdom was being wrenched from his
hand. What‟s more, the longer his court entertained her, the more his
cortège fell in love with her. So he thought to put her love to such a test
that no man on earth could pass it save the son of God.

“Tell me,” spake the lord, “can you turn straw into gold?”
“Yes, I can.”
So the lord sent for his alchemists, with their flasks and utensils, and
ceiled her in an apothecary for one hour. And there she stood, the
strands of straw protruding from her delicate grip.
“Turn this straw into gold,” he ordered as the door closed.

. . . . . . .

When finally the time had elapsed, the door to the apothecary was
opened. The entire court stared into the chamber, not knowing what to
expect. Some thought her a witch, others a saint. But when the damsel
emerged, she still had in her hand, the very same straw she had been
given at the first.

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The lord was elated with the outcome he had designed, having been
released from his earthly obligation, he rebuked her quickly, “Now you
have not obeyed me. Neither have you rendered me gold for the straw
that I gave you!”
“No, I have not,” the handmaiden responded. “But that is because you
are not able to receive it.”
“And how am I not able to receive it?” he scoffed.
“Because only a king can receive my gold. And you are no king.”

Now was the lord outraged at the handmaiden, “Make me king then!
Make me king and give me my gold, you stupid wench!”
But the handmaiden stared askance, “No man‟s blood is more pure than
mine. But if you want to become a king, you must either be born a king,
or marry into it.”
“Then that is what I‟ll do!” chided the lord as he summoned for his
guards to escort the young lady from his sight, never to be heard from
again.

. . . . . . .

So the lord married the goodly princess instead and was crowned king in
every province. But all was not well in the land, for the princess whom
he had married (and who had now become queen), was unable to give
him a royal heir, provoking his enemies to plot against him. The
astrologers and soothsayers also warned that they would not wait for his
demise before exploiting this weakness.

So the king called for his queen, saying, “Give me a son, lest I die,”
“I cannot obey you,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I do not love you.”
“Why do you not love me?”
“Because you married me for power and not love,” she answered,
“Therefore, you shall have neither.”
Then did the king understand that without the queen‟s love, he would
not only lose his kingdom, but quite possibly his life.
“How then can I love you?” he pleaded.
“To love is to obey the son of man.”

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Then did the king remember the saying of the handmaiden whom he had
banished, and repented of his error. He learned that true love is worth
more than all the world‟s wealth.
“Ask of me what you will,” he said to his wife, “and whatsoever you
ask, I will give it no matter what it is – even my entire kingdom; even
my own life.”
The queen answered without hesitation, “Give me a son. For once your
heart was straw, but now is it pure gold!”

And the two lived happily ever after in a kingdom built on love and
undying hope.

The Buddha and the Christ

The Buddha told Christ,
"Suffer to be enlightened."
Jesus told him, No.

Christ told the Buddha,

"Suffer to redeem my flock."
The Buddha said, Ommm...

Trelawny Triptych
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon in Trelawny Parish, Jamaica. But that
didn‟t stop the faithful of that community from assembling in the
sanctuary of the Church of St. Peter the Apostle. There were no empty
pews as the Pastor delivered his rousing sermon, and as he expounded
on the mystical transformation of the Eucharistic Elements into the
Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, flashes of lightning lit up the stained-
glass windows closely followed by loud bursts of thunder as if God
Himself were lending commentary. The rain beat furiously against the

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windows, conjuring images of the great flood that purged the old world
of all but eight souls. Flowers, which had sprung up around the
gravestones of the churchyard, were nourished by the incessant
downpour. As the rain brought the flowers, so too would the flowers
bring goats once the storm had subsided. The women of the
congregation fanned themselves with church bulletins, their ornate hats
and bandanas providing the necessary “covering” without which it
would be a shame for them to prophesy. The men wore suits and ties,
their jackets flaunting the hot autumn air. Everywhere, people‟s souls
were stirred by the passionate preaching, leaving no doubt that the Spirit
of their God was present among them.

The church was built out of solid rock and stood for centuries in the
bustling community of Falmouth. Her walls had withstood pirate
attacks, slave uprisings, fires, and hurricanes. She had witnessed the
abolition of slavery and the transition to Independence. She had
remained Anglican from her founding. She possessed one of the few
working pipe organs in the Caribbean. Hymns were played by ear and
sung from memory. The church had a clock tower that had long ceased
to work. A narrow wooden staircase inside the tower led to the place
where the bell ringer would pull the frayed ropes which sounded the
church bells, announcing the start of Sunday Worship.

On the opposite end of the graveyard stood the church hall. It was a
newer building and was primarily used as a meeting and recreational
facility. The Anglican Youth Fellowship would meet there, its teenaged
officers recording the minutes and collecting dues. The church hall also
hosted dance parties and carnivals, all of which attracted non-Anglicans
to the church and gave members of different denominations an
opportunity to socialize. The annual Easter Prayer Breakfast was held
there to raise money for the church. Pre-purchased tickets could be
exchanged for a real traditional Jamaican breakfast including ackee and
salt-fish, callaloo, yam and dumplings, and for dessert, slices of pau-pau
and watermelon. Money raised from the ticket sales would go toward
the “Kitchen of Love” ministry that fed indigents in the community.

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 A Bat Without a Cave
How doth the little cave bat fly?
With either ear, but not one eye.
Within the cave, we hear its cry.
Upon the cave wall, it doth rely.

A bat shall sound its screeching call.

It echoes off the dim cave wall.
Without its ears, the bat would fall.
It would not fly – no, not at all.

God sends his Word in every place.

It echoes off the human race;
And in our hearts, he sees his face
And in his Word, we see his Grace.

Without our hearts, God could not see.

He could not speak, he could not be.
Without a Witness (two or three),
A bat without a cave is he.

The Parable of the Box

I was trapped in a box that could only be opened from the outside.
Within that box, I found a replica of the self-same box from which I was
hopelessly trapped, and imagined that someone else might be trapped
inside that box. “There‟s no hope for me” I thought, “but at least I can
free someone else from their box”; whereupon I opened the replica of
the box and discovered the miraculous hand of God releasing me from
my own.

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 The Great Fish
Deep in the Montana woods lies Lake Serenity. It is a haven for
fishermen due to its crisp, clean air and clear waters. There, a fisherman
sits in a rowboat with his son. He baits his hook and casts in his line.
The line sinks beneath the cool, still waters and finds its depth among
the many fishes that inhabit the lake. Some of the fish nibble at the bait.
Others do not.

One fish, whose name was Barney Bass, watched as the other fish took
turns nibbling at the bait. He was tempted to nibble himself, but was
unsure as he noticed that there were many fish who chose not to nibble.
“Why was this?” he asked.

Then came a fish choosing not to nibble whose name was Salmon Peter.
He explained that the reason why certain of the fish abstained from
nibbling the bait was because of the Great Fish who told them not to.

Salmon Peter recited the Epic of the Great Fish:

Long ago, there was a lake

And it was teeming with fish;
And all of them lived together
And got along with each other.
It was a perfect day.

Then one day,

A strange new fish appeared;
One that no one had ever seen before.
It was shiny and had a chord attached to it
which reached up to the sky.

The new fish carried bait in its teeth

And when the first fish saw it
And perceived the bait to be good,
He began to nibble at it.

19 | P a g e
Other fishes followed the first fish
And soon, all of the fishes were nibbling the bait.

Then one day,

As a fish was nibbling the bait,
He found himself ensnared by it;
And the more he tugged at the line,
the more he found himself unable break free.

Suddenly, he was yanked up by his mouth

to the top of the water.
And he was yanked above the top of the water
to a place where he could not breath
(above the water.)
There he was pulled into a boat
And saw men;
And the men cut him loose from the baited hook.

There were the bones and blood of fish scattered

And fishes with their heads cut off;
And fishes with their skins peeled off;
And live fishes trapped in buckets.
He saw other boats with men fishing;
Men baiting their hooks
and casting them into the water;
And he understood that it was wrong to nibble at the bait.

Then, the man who had caught him

reached for his knife.
He was going to cut him open
as he did to the other fish,
But then, the man loosened his grip
and he slipped out of the man‟s hands
and fell back into the water.

As soon as the fish returned to the lake,

He swam everywhere and told every fish
That they should not nibble at the bait anymore.

20 | P a g e
Many fishes believed him at his word
and abstained from eating the bait.
Other fishes believed only after seeing his wounds.
Still others choose not to believe him
although they had both heard his word
and seen his wounds.
They had been previously lied to by other fishes
and so accused him of lying also.

Then he saw that it was wrong for a fish to lie

because it would discourage others
from believing the truth;
And that all the fishes who had ever died
because of the mischievous lies told by fishes
were as one Great Fish.

Therefore, he admonished fishes everywhere

never to tell a lie;
For the sake of the Great Fish who died for their lie.

Barney Bass heard the Epic that Salmon Peter had recited and believed
him. He swore that as long as he lived, he would never nibble the bait or
tell a lie.

Then along came a slippery fish whose name was the Doubting Trout.
He did not believe the Epic of the Great Fish and was offended at
Barney Bass‟s faith.

“Why do you believe the Epic of the Great Fish while other epics differ
from it?” asked the Doubting Trout.

Barney Bass answered, “I believe the Epic because the Author of the
Epic says that lying causes others to die. Therefore, if the Author lies, he
will be responsible for the deaths of others according to his own
confession. Many other fishes have testified to the Truth of the Epic of
the Great Fish. Some have even claimed to have been taken up into
boats and escaped or were thrown back. Also, it is right to obey the

21 | P a g e
word of Salmon Peter because he is the only fish who says that lying
causes other fish to die.”

The Doubting Trout answered, “But there have been many fishes who
claimed to have been taken up above the water and came back with a
different account of what is up there. They say there is no danger or
death.”

Barney Bass answered and said, “There is always the danger of death
whenever someone else has you on their hook.”

The Doubting Trout replied, “There is no way to verify the truth of the
Epic. It was written so long ago and now times have changed.”

Barney Bass responded, “It is true that we live in different times, but the
principles and values that are preached by the Great Fish are timeless.”

Then the Doubting Trout took great offence, “Some fish say they are
naturally drawn to the bait. It is unkind to tell these fish to disobey their
own natural inclinations.”

Barney Bass countered, “We are not controlled by our natural

inclinations, but rather, it is we ourselves who govern our own thoughts
and deeds. If some fish are offended by what I‟m saying, then let their
own offence convict them. Does not the desire to be loved and accepted
transcend nature?”

“I feel sorry for you,” said the Doubting Trout finally. “You will not
nibble the bait with us and will therefore be deprived of the experience.”

Barney Bass answered, “There is an experience greater than that of

nibbling the bait. It is the experience of knowing that you did not lead
others to their death and that you did not contribute to the misery and
suffering of others.”

With that, the Doubting Trout left Barney Bass and began to nibble the
bait. He saw other fishes being dragged up above the top of the water
but gave it no thought.

22 | P a g e
Then one day, as he carelessly nibbled, the Doubting Trout felt a
stinging in his jaws. He was hooked and could not break free. He tugged
and tugged but the more he pulled at the line, the quicker he was reeled
up to the surface. As soon as he was angled above the water‟s surface,
he found himself unable to breath. He was in dry air – just as the Epic
had said. He then felt the hand of a child grab him. It was the
fisherman‟s son. “Can we keep him?” he said to his father.

Love Can
Love can cause the blind to see;
Love can cause the rose to bloom;
Love can cause the world to be;
Love can leave an empty tomb.

Love can make the desert spring;

Love can make the world go 'round;
Love can make a child‟s heart sing;
Love can walk on holy ground.

Love can hope for brighter days;

Love can hope for liberty;
Love can hope for joy always;
Love can pray for you and me.

Pray-cation
Jamaica is internationally recognized for its golf courses, white-sand
beaches, musical heritage and exceptional hospitality. But while many
visitors to our island prefer to bask in the sun, sand and surf, others see
their vacations as opportunities to minister to the gospel. Many tourists
living abroad belong to congregations that have sister churches here.

23 | P a g e
Others come to establish new churches or engage in charitable activities.
Today, Christianity has a prominent role in Jamaican cultural and
political life. If you are seeking a different tourist experience, one that
ventures beyond the conspicuous meccas of the all-inclusive enclave,
then I would certainly recommend a visit to any one of our great and
historic local parish churches.

In the town of Falmouth, the Trelawny Parish Church of St. Peter the
Apostle stands as a living monument to the supremacy of Anglicanism
in Jamaican culture. Its stone masonry portrays the understated grandeur
of Georgian architecture while rendering a striking allusion to the rock
on which our LORD‟s Church was built. Its arched wooden doorway
first welcomed celebrants decades before the abolition of slavery and
was a part of the original town charter officially authorized, recognized
and patronized by the government of Jamaica and its Monarch.

Today, St. Peter‟s is known for its majestic clock tower, which also
serves as a belfry and while the clock only gives the correct time twice
daily, the soft pealing of its old iron bell can often be heard on Sunday
mornings, beckoning the entire community to worship.

The gravestones of St. Peter‟s record both the names and lifespans of
more than a few dignitaries and luminaries dating back to the colonial
era. A substantial number of child graves testify to the untimeliness of
death in a world without vaccination. Once, these memorials were
decorated with flowers and lamented by devotees, but nowadays, they
serve as ever-present sentinels, warning all trespassers of the fate that
awaits them should they stray from the narrow path.

St. Peter‟s boasts one of the oldest working pipe organs in the
Caribbean. Early in the 20th century, an electrical motor was added to its
bellows eliminating the need for a human blower. Beyond this, however,
there is no electrical alteration or amplification of the organ sound. It‟s
large brass pipes, which tower above the congregation, resonate with the
vibrant harmonies and embellished descants commensurate with the
mostly self-taught musicians who grace its console. The choir too does
not read music, but instead memorizes every melody while following
along in the words-only edition of the Anglican hymnal.

24 | P a g e
It is a cultural tradition in Jamaica for men to wear suits and ties and for
the women to wear long dresses, hats and even gloves on a Sunday
morning service despite the searing heat and lack of air-conditioning.
Some poorer Jamaicans use this tacit dress code as impetus to shirk their
spiritual duty, though many others are welcomed into the congregation
in t-shirts and tennis shoes.

It is not a rare occurrence to see foreigners in attendance at the Sunday

morning service. Many are family members of congregants and other
Jamaican ex-patriots (like myself) but a few are Anglican and
Episcopalian tourists who don‟t want to miss church while on their
vacations. These tourists are blessed with interesting and memorable
vignettes into traditional Jamaican life and culture as well as by the
ministry of the Sacrament and fellowship of the Holy Spirit.

Sandals, Half Moon, and the Ritz Carlton are three prestigious resorts
that can arrange bus tours to the historic town of Falmouth and transport
guests to and from St. Peter‟s. Doubtless your concierge would be more
than happy to assist you in learning more about Jamaica‟s great
churches and island culture. Until then, I wish you all the best and, as
we say here in Jamaica, Likkle more!

Lady of Lanzhou
There‟s a village in the east
(like a box within a box)
Where the people keep the feast
of the New Year of the ox.

There‟s a yellow river there

(where the rabbit likes to play).
Maybe in another year,
he becomes the tiger‟s prey?

25 | P a g e
There‟s a lady in Lanzhou
(whiter as a porcelain doll).
Maybe she can show me how
I might hear the tiger's call.

Maybe I will never know

(maybe it was for the best
That I was not meant to go
from this village in the west).

He who claims to know it all

often knows it all the least;
Wisdom is a China doll
from a village in the east.

Thai-dye
Little Tukta from Siam
(Not as lucky as I am).
Will she go to London town
In a graduation gown?
Does the British consulate
Even have her passport yet?
Little Tukta, can‟t you see?
It‟s an opportunity
To forgive your enemy
(Impudent bureaucracy).
When we learn to look within,
All we find is death and sin;
When we learn to look without,
Jesus takes away our doubt.
Now that you are on your way,
I have only this to say:
Never leave the God you know
When you touch down in Heathrow!^^

26 | P a g e
 Fortune Cookie Wisdom
(Wise man say, „You are one tough cookie!‟)

A fool says, Every dog has his day;

A wise man says, Everyday is God‟s day.

A fool is perverted;
A wise man is converted.

A fool seeks a way to understand;

A wise man seeks to understand the way.

A fool chases his dreams;

A wise man follows his heart.

A fool says, I‟ll believe it when I see it;

A wise man says, I‟ll see it when I believe it.

A fool begs for more;

A wise man begs for mercy.

A fool is a wolf in sheep‟s clothing;

A wise man is a sheep in wolf‟s clothing.

A fool‟s fate is sealed;

A wise man‟s faith is sealed.

A fool is a victim of society;

A wise man is a menace to society.

A fool says my words don‟t exist;

A double fool takes them literally;
A wise man takes it for what it‟s worth.

A fool has a fear of failure;

A double fool has a fear of success;
A wise man fears fear itself.

A fool is needy;
A double fool is greedy;
A wise man is ready.

27 | P a g e
 A fool goes into debt;
A double fool pays it off;
A wise man declares bankruptcy.

A fool is loyal to his country;

A double fool is loyal to his church;
A wise man is loyal to his God.

A fool leaches off his parents;

A double fool robs his children of their future;
A wise man accepts help from family.

A fool dismisses these words;

A double fool regurgitates them;
A wise man seeks to interpret.

A fool has a fear of commitment;

A double fool has separation anxiety;
A wise man lets love go in order to find it.

A fool says, My sin is forgotten;

A wise man says, My sin is forgiven.

A fool donates out of guilt;

A wise man donates out of gratitude.

A fool fears that he cannot know;

A wise man knows that he cannot fear.

A fool says his prayers;

A wise man prays them.

A fool has a premise;

A wise man has a promise.

A fool cannot find the doorway;

A double fool clings to the doorway;
A wise man shuts the door behind him.

A foolish general fights yesterday‟s battle;

A wise general declares victory in the midst of battle.

A fool sees the crucifix as an accusation;

A wise man sees the crucifix as an exoneration.
28 | P a g e
 A fool claims a right to privacy;
A double fool seeks attention;
A wise man is known only to God.

A foolish priest tries to increase the population of heaven;

A wise priest tries to decrease the temperature of hell.

A foolish president wags his finger;

A double foolish president wags the dog;
A wise president gets us into peace.

A fool discovers the “historical” Jesus;

A wise man repents to the God he knows.

A fool says, I am insane;

An wise man says, I am an ensign.

A fool performs an autopsy on the devil he just slew;

A double fool resurrects him to kill him again;
A wise man casts out other people‟s devils.

A fool sees an aberration;

A wise man sees an Apparition.

A foolish artist has references;

A wise artist has preferences.

I once had lunch at this really great restaurant in San Francisco‟s

Chinatown. Afterward, the waitress handed me the check with
a fortune cookie (an obvious defect since there wasn‟t anything printed
on it).
I guess that means I‟m going to die!, I scoffed.
Of course not! smiled the waitress. That means you make your own
fortune!
xie xie!^^

29 | P a g e
 Holding On
One hand extended
Reaching out
To the one I befriended
Before it all ended

But on the other hand

I‟m holding on
To the edge of the ledge
Of a solemn pledge
To have and to hold
„Til death do us part
And when my blood runs cold
I still will

Hold on

And when I die

They‟ll have to pry
My bride‟s sweet melancholy sigh
From my cold dead hand
Just the way we‟d always planned
So please take a stand and
Don‟t concede a blood-stained
Inch of Holy Ground
Holding on to the love we‟ve found
Who found us still holding on
To what we‟ve done

Holding one

30 | P a g e
 The LORD‟s Day
In the country, Anglican Priests were scarce. Because of this, Father
John pastored three churches. First, he pastored the Holy Trinity Church
at Bloomfield. Then, he rode on horseback to Christ Church in
Rockford. He completed his circuit at St. Michael‟s Church in Davey.
The Right Reverend was a faithful administrator of the Holy Sacraments
in the Anglican Tradition. He was also a devoted husband to his wife of
many years and a father of two small children (my sister and myself).

“Whinny,” he said to his wife. “What joy it is unspeakable to be in your

presence. However, I am called to a sacred ministry and must therefore
suffer a temporary separation. Be of good cheer in my absence knowing
that this ignominious lapse will reap for us an ever more glorious
reunion.”

“I await your return,” answered Whinny. “And my spirit prays that your
ministry will prosper and your labours yield an harvest much abounding
and beyond your knowing.”

With that, Father John mounted his horse and rode toward Bloomfield.
The trail wound its way through the woods and paralleled a nearby
brook. Sunbeams peered through the maple leaves as they undulated in
the cool autumn zephyr.

. . . . . . .

Upon his arrival at Bloomfield, Father John encountered a group of

young boys playing in the street. They painted their faces to look like
Indians and one of them was even smoking a pipe. Father John
addressed them, “Today is Sunday and you ought to be in church.”
The boy with the pipe answered, “Our fathers don‟t care whether or not
we went to Church.”
Father John approached the boy with the pipe and asked him for it. The
boy refused whereupon Father John snatched the pipe out of the boy‟s
mouth and cast in into the brook.
The boy cried, “That‟s my father‟s pipe!”
31 | P a g e
“And if you had been in church today, you would have known not to
take what doesn‟t belong to you!”
“Alright! We will go!” the boys exclaimed.
Father John left them and proceeded to the chapel.

Holy Trinity was situated on a steep hill speckled with wildflowers.

Bees often wafted in through its open windows, along with the
intermittent baas of safely grazing sheep. The church bells pealed as the
choir donned their robes and arrayed themselves for the morning
procession. Afterward, the service convened with „Old 100th‟ as the
rising sun lit up the stained glass above the altar. Bloomfield‟s faithful
gave witness to that morning‟s miracle (and all the way in the very last
pew sat a young Geronimo and handful of his pintsized braves.)

. . . . . . .

Upon arrival at Christ Church in Rockford, Father John was greeted by

members of the vestry and choir. At the conclusion of the service, a
woman by the name of Lady P. approached him and ventured to have
her confession heard. Father John could see the look of anguish on her
face and instantly became sympathetic.

“Please tell me what is troubling you,” asked the Priest. “And let me
know if there‟s anything I can do to help.”
“I want you to pray for me,” she started. “I have a disease to which there
appears to be no cure. I am baptized in Christ for seven years now and
have sought the LORD in all areas of my life. However, it seems that
the more pure I become, the greater my sin is revealed to me.”

Father John understood what she was experiencing and beseeched the
Spirit for the right words of comfort. “Jesus gives us a parable in
Matthew chapter twelve in which a clean house attracts devils because
of its emptiness,” he began in a stern but loving voice. “Obedience to
the Law is like having a clean house; but without love, the house is
empty. All who love God will obey him; but not all who obey God love
him.”
“I want to love Jesus!” declared Lady P.
“Then do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

32 | P a g e
 . . . . . . .

The town of Davey was even more sparsely populated than the other
towns, but this only added to the spirit of community. St. Michael‟s
Chapel stood on the edge of a glistening field of wheat for as long as
anyone could remember, its liturgy frequently punctuated by the cows
mooing and cocks crowing, which no one seemed to mind. Afterward,
Father John paid his usual visit to the Bartley Manor with the intent to
administer the Sacrament to its bedridden proprietor.

“Good day, Mr. Bartley,” grinned the pastor. But as his communicant
strained to look at him, his stare became ever more distant.
“As always, I appreciate this weekly visit, but today will the last.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I am old and my heartbeat is increasingly uneven. I feel as
though I were slipping away and it is well with me.”
“No you‟re not,” the pastor contended. “I‟ve known elders whose hearts
were convicted with the promise of the resurrection. Theirs is the look
of victory; but in you, I see only defeat and false resignation.”
“Go away, pastor. Can‟t you see I‟m ill?”
“I can‟t do that,” Father John persisted. “You‟re not ill, but if you were,
your only illness would be that you are too well. You‟ve become
comfortable in your fear and sickness; and now you fear dying so much
that you would wish for it if only to dispel it.”
Mr. Bartley twisted in his bed. “If you won‟t leave me be, then at least
tell me what heaven will be like so that I might have some hope in it.”
“Okay,” smiled the pastor. “How about I tell you next week?”

. . . . . . .

As the sun set over the mountains, the clip-clop of horseshoes on gravel
was heard outside of the rectory. My sister and I ran outside to meet him
as Whinny stood waiting on the old hickory landing.

33 | P a g e
Whinny never asked how his day went – the fact that he arrived seemed
to settle that question. But there was a certain homecoming ritual that
both engaged in before anything else was spoken. First, Father John
would dust off his shoes, remove his hat and say, “How wonderful it is
to find you here waiting for me after so long a sojourn.”
“I don‟t know which is greater,” she added. “The faith of the woman
who waits or the man who returns.” Thus went the dispassionate
responsorial that marked the end of yet another LORD‟s day.

On the Bottle
I found a message in a bottle;
It said, Bottle.
I opened my Bible in the Spirit;
It said, Spirit.
Does that mean I found a message in a bottle?
or a bottle in a message?
If you say, The bottle is in the message only,
then you blaspheme the bottle.
If you say, The Spirit is in the Bible only,
then you blaspheme the Spirit.
Later, I picked up the bottle
and on it was written: 100-proof spirit.

Sky High
The sky's the limit
But without the earth beneath
There would be no sky

34 | P a g e
 Greta und die Gestapo
Knock knock knock... (Die doore opendt.)

“Gütentag!” greeted Greta. “Wat Kann I du für yeu?”

“I haffe orders teu sürche dies rezidence unter suspicione das yeu ar
hidingsie Jüden,” sagt die Nazi.
“Jüden?” criedt Greta. “Nein! Er ist nöe Jüden hier.”
“Maye I sürche, den?”
“Of cours nicht!” Greta answert. “Est ist die middel auf der nächt!
Kömme bach ohn Sönntag, bye-bye!”
“Nein!” der Nazi insistet. “I müss conducten die sürche at wonce!”
“Or else wat?!”
“Or else..” (der Nazi pausen... Er dits nicht wänten zu fillen out zie
paperwürke für deiser one!...) “Okay – okay! Den jusst tellen me, ist der
eine Jüden heire?”
“Yess!”
“Güt!” answert die Nazi. “Bringen ihm oute, bitte.”
“Fein, I will!” Greta relentidt, “Bütte fürst, tellen me wei yeu wänte
ihm.”
“Becauss he ist ein Jüde!”
“Und wat ist wröngen wiht das?” shie answeren.
“Die Jewische blüt ist korrupt und müssen be pürgt frem auf die
Sudetanland!” sagt der Nazi.
“Wei du yeu thinken dat?” askt Greta perplext.
“Wei? Wei?? Jusst looke as die advancments auf Aryan ärs und cultur!
Das genius auf dein Östrianische müsiker und technologie, der stamina
auf ouhr würkers! Grüβ Gött! Weir die mosst evölvedt auf älle der races
und häffen un näturel reicht zu destroyen sie impür races!
“Aber wass abouet der Bibel?” pleadedt Greta. “Weir älle frem Adem,
ain‟t we? Und häffen weir älle bin mäde ouf die saem blüd?”
Aber die Nazi groβlich sprächen, “Perhapts! Aber weil ins das Neü
Testamenten, die Jüden wert replacent bei den Romänische Christerens!
Dierfore, das gentilles aer die neue superiuer race!”

35 | P a g e
(Greta lookt ahn der Nazi wiht despaire. Shie hadt geställedt ihm as
müche ahs shie couldt!) “Alreit! Alreit! I wille göe und bringen auf die
Jüden. Waite hier...” Der doore clöest und die Nazi waitet outeside.

Den, sie doore suddennly opent...

“Well? Wehr ist hie?” askt der Nazi.

“Kömming,” shie answërt sweetlich. “Bütte fürst, tellen mie... Ar nott
yeu ein grandsönne auf einen Jüdenin?”
“Ja, I am,” sprächen der Nazi. “Bütte I wass raisedt ahs einen
Christeren.”
“I see...” Greta wondert. “Und ihre parenst neiber toldt yeu das Jesu
Christe war ein Jüden?”
Der Nazi pausedt. “Well... I neiber unterstüdt thiere faithe... I wantet zu
believen en Christe, bütte... I neiber couldt! I neiber saw waht thaey
saw! Die mësage war losst on me! I kouldt nicht finden Götte nowehre!”
“Den wei känt yeu see Hem nowe?!” Greta pleadedt.
Bütte der Nazi becämme outragedt, “Est wast meinen blüd! Meinen
korrupt Jewische blüdt das wouldt nicht permitt mie!! Nowe bringensie
auf die Juden!! Schnell, bitte!!”

Greta walkdt outeside und shütten sie doore behindt ehr. “Hier am I!”
shie gesagt.
“Yeu?!” shoutted der Nazi. “Yeu art nicht einen Jüden?!”
“Ja, Ich bin nicht,” Greta whisperin. “Bütte meine Saviuer ist, und ihs
blüd eis withinen mie.”

Style Matters
Style over substance?
But in the world we live in,
it's both that matter.

36 | P a g e
 Imagine I'm an Enigma
Imagine I'm an enigma ...... A misunderstood mister who dissed his
sister (but now, how much I‟ve missed her) ...... A man who once
prayed to someday repay the one whom he depraved (but now, it‟s too
late) ...... The one who bravely paved the way for him to say, “My soul
is saved” ...... The one and only Son who came to make a way for
everyone (and now it‟s done) ...... The one who gave his all to call a
saint whose name was Saul (but now it‟s Paul, y‟all) ...... The one who
(by his stripes) restored the blind man‟s sight forevermore (Praise ye the
LORD) ...... But as for me and my house? ...... I am the charismatic-
addict praisin‟ Jesus all diseases have been cured (Word is born) ......

When I died...
When I awoke, I found myself on a plain. Rising to my feet, I turned
and saw the contemplative Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree.

Why do you suffer? – asked the Buddha – You suffer because you live
and you live because you die. Life is Death and Death is Life. It is an
endless cycle of life, death and rebirth. The way to end suffering is
through breaking the cycle of life, death and rebirth. And once this cycle
is broken, Enlightenment is achieved. The place of Enlightenment is
Nirvana. Your soul cannot enter Nirvana without first achieving
Enlightenment which is best accomplished through the technique and
discipline of meditation.

37 | P a g e
I answered the Buddha and said – People don‟t suffer because they live,
they suffer because they sin. Death is not necessary for life, only the
Word of God is. Life cannot be an endless cycle of life, death and
rebirth because death is final or else it is not death. The way to end
suffering is to suffer for it completely which the Son of God already did
for us. Enlightenment is not the blissful realization that Life is Death
and Death is Life (as you falsely assert), but rather, it is the faith of a
loving God who suffers and dies as a propitiation for mankind‟s sin.
This is the true „Nirvana‟ and the true Incarnation of the Buddha‟s
aspiration.

With that, the Buddha disappeared in a puff of smoke whereupon I

turned to find myself on a mountaintop standing in front of a blue man
with four arms. It was Vishnu.

Why do you suffer? – asked Vishnu – You suffer because you violate the
Dharma which are holy rules for living. As a result, you have
established negative Karma. Karma is a divine system of justice wherein
all actions (whether positive or negative) are recompensed to the
individual. Therefore, I (Vishnu) am the divine arbiter and dispenser of
justice. Follow me if you want to receive a positive Karma.

I answered Vishnu and said – You are right to say that I have violated a
holy standard of living. As a result of my transgression, I am deserving
of divine recompense and am under the literal curse of the Old
Testament. However, God‟s judgment and wrath was assuaged by the
righteous judgment of his Son on the cross we deserved.

Vishnu objected – If Christ suffered in place of the Christians, then no

Christians would suffer in the world. However, we have witnessed the
suffering and death of many Christians since the founding of
Christianity. If Jesus Christ was crucified for the sins of St. Peter, then
why was St. Peter also crucified?

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Then said I to Vishnu – Many Christians have indeed suffered and died
since the time of Christ. However, this is not due to the judgment of
God. To ask why Christians suffer is like asking why God permits us to
remain in this world after converting. Our ministry is to lead others to
Christ, and during the course of this blessed ministry, we may at times
avail ourselves to martyrdom and persecution (though the miraculous
gift of the Spirit has equipped us for it). Nevertheless, in Paradise, we
will be healed of every hardship endured for the service of the gospel.

With that, Vishnu disappeared in a puff of smoke and I turned to find

myself in an arid desert. A man in a turban approached me holding a
book in his hand. The book was the Qur‟an and the man was
Muhammad.

Peace be unto you – said Muhammad – God is One. The first of the Ten
Commandments says not to worship any god besides the one true God.
Why do the People of the Book believe that God is a Trinity when the
prophet Jesus (peace be unto him) never mentioned a trinity in any of
the gospels? Also, the prophet Jesus (peace be unto him) said „My
Father is greater than I‟.

I answered Muhammad and said – The doctrine of the Trinity is not a

doctrine of three gods. It is a description of the nature of God as he is
revealed in Scripture. Also, Mosaic Law mandates at least two or three
witnesses in which case a unitarian deity would be incapable of
establishing itself. When Christ said that he was lesser than his Father,
he spoke from the standpoint of his humanity whereas our Savior is both
fully human and fully divine without contradiction.

Muhammad continued – The People of the Book are the enemies of

Allah. They say that people can go to heaven no matter what they do.
But Jesus (peace be unto him) taught that people cannot enter heaven
unless they obey the Law. So would you rather obey Jesus or Paul who
says that the Law is dead (and he was not even one of the original
disciples?)

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There is no variance between Christ and his apostles – I answered – But
when Christ was crucified, the veil of the temple was rent in twain,
restoring the relationship between man and God premised upon a desire
to obey rather than actual obedience. But the right to be forgiven is by
no means a right to transgress. Otherwise, we blaspheme the Holy
Ghost.

Muhammad persisted – The People of the Book say that Jesus (peace be
unto him) died for their sins, but this is not true. Allah made Judas to
look like Jesus (peace be unto him) so that he would be crucified instead
of Jesus. That‟s why Judas cried out to Allah saying, „Why have you
forsaken me‟.

I answered Muhammad and said – Judas could not have crucified

because he was a sinner. If the Messiah sinned, then he would need
someone to die for his sins which would disqualify him as the Messiah.
Thus, Jesus must have endured his Passion without sinning in order to
save the world which was created by God the Father for just that
purpose (and wouldn‟t have been otherwise.)

With that, Muhammad disappeared in a puff of smoke and I turned to

find myself in a brimstone cavern lit up by pools of flaming sulfur.
Standing in front of me was a red man with goat horns protruding from
his forehead and hooves for feet. It was Lucifer and I was in hell.

Thus saith Lucifer – I believe in God the Father and in his Son Jesus
Christ who died for the sins of the world. However, I reject this god
because he is evil. He formed me and made me sin in order to fulfill his
purpose of saving man. He predestined me to sin in order so that I
would glorify him to his followers.

I answered Lucifer and said – God does not make anybody sin. Neither
does evil glorify God. However, once sin had entered into his creation,
God entered into his creation in order to preserve it from the sin of
Adam, subjecting his flesh to the scourge of Original Sin for the sake of
the elect.

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Lucifer persisted – Jesus said his words would judge you. The Word of
God says that God hardened Pharaoh‟s heart in the story of the Exodus,
causing him not to let the people go before killing all of Egypt‟s
firstborn. God also says „Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated.‟ In
Isaiah, God says „I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace,
and create evil: I the LORD do all these things.‟ The Israelites
exterminated the Canaanites (women, children and cattle included) and
they did so by the commandment of God and the Ark as their battle
standard. Clearly, the Christian God is evil and the author of it.

I answered Lucifer and said – God does say that he created evil, hated
Esau, and hardened Pharaoh‟s heart. Many times in Scripture, God
speaks corporately on behalf of an Ultimate Reality which is inclusive of
both good and evil. The Pharisees also accused Christ of casting out
devils by the power of Beelzebub, but Christ avers that a house divided
cannot stand. Reality has become corrupt by mankind‟s sin, but the one
who gave birth to it is Immaculate.

With that, Lucifer disappeared in a puff of smoke and I turned to find

myself standing before a city of jewels. The gates of the city were made
of pearl and when they opened, St. Peter came out to greet me.

Grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God,
and of Jesus our Lord – St. Peter said. And that was when I realized that
the more I knew, the less I had to say.

The Desert
I drilled for oil. But in order to get to the oil, I first had to cross a
desert. Once I had crossed the desert, I had to penetrate it. I had to
bring what was underneath the desert up to the surface. There are winds
in the desert, and mirages. It is easy to become lost.

I came across a man in the desert – a camel trader. He told me where I

could find oil. He said that oil could be found in the desert. That is why
I came to the desert – to drill for oil.
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 Native Tree Spirit
I had a vision of you as a big tree:
one who bears her fruit in the spring;
one who renders shade in the summer;
beautiful colors in the cool of autumn;
and in the dead of winter,
you prepare for the renewal of the following spring.
Once, my heart was moved with a sudden pathos
as I wondered how glorious this endless cycle appeared.
Throughout all seasons,
the memory of this glorious vision of you
shall hide me under its immutable branches.

El Oro de San Clemente

¡Capitán, estamos hundiendo! – cried the first mate as the torrent
raged. But the captain was possessed. He visto peor que esto... – he
brooded. ¿Qué? – the crewman pleaded, unable to comprehend.
Meanwhile, the San Clemente continued to toss violently, the shouts of
her crewmates answered only by the snapping of her disintegrating
wooden hull.

It was then that the cabin door flung open revealing a drenched friar,
clutching a coral Rosary against his chest. But the captain remained
obstinate – ¿What do you want?

The friar grunted – The waves are getting very high now and the
crewmen believe that in order for us to remain afloat, we must jettison
some of the cargo.

¡Por qué! – the captain winced. ¡I‟m too old to make another voyage
to Cartagena! ¡I won‟t return without my investment!

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 Well then you won‟t return. – surmised the friar.
¿What do you mean by that?
But the friar persisted – What I mean is that your obsession with
wealth is corrupting your judgment and endangering your crew.
¿My judgment? – howled the captain – ¿Are you questioning my
judgment?
The first mate started for the door. ¡No, stay! – the captain ordered as
he then turned to the friar – Tell me about my judgment...

But the friar held his peace, and his peace remembered:
It remembered the sights and sounds of a scattered crew on a battered
deck;
The decision to sail in August against the advice of the navigator;
The Inca slaves on the coffee plantation;
Above them flies the fortification;
Turrets with their soldiers stationed;
Smelted fetishes, murdered shaman;
Temple cities left abandoned;
Catholics serving God and mammon.

As it is with this Capitán, so shall it be with the entire Conquista;

¡Your greed will be your undoing!
But the captain snarled – ¡Mutinous monk, you know nothing!
Snap!
The mast ripped apart as the San Clemente keeled over onto its side,
water rushing into every cabin with a deafening fury! Blood in the
water! – the friar still holding onto his coral Rosary as his lungs
asphyxiated!

. . . . . . .

The storm subsided.

Seagulls screeching on a painted pink sunset hanging on the wall of
the Jolly Roger Social Club, Jamaica‟s hottest tourist destination (if only
for the lack of air conditioning!)

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 Above the chatter of the bustling barroom, rose an American accent,
loud and obnoxious as the Hawaiian shirt and neon-green swimming
trunks worn by its owner. Of course, Hawaiian culture is quite similar to
that of Jamaica (if only for the Bob Marley T-shirts which I‟m sure are
being sold in every Waikiki gift shop!)

And this one, I got from a dive off the coast o‟Antigua, – he bragged,
flashing his trusty (albeit rusty) Spanish doubloon before the
supposedly-disinterested bar attendant (who, unbeknownst to him, never
passed her bar exam!)
„Dat is reel good! – she smiled in her patent patios – But I cyan‟t
figgah out why yuh gaan into treasuh hunting – „dat is serious bizness!

Well, – the American gushed – I guess I‟ve been inter‟sted in treasure

huntin‟ ever since I‟s a child growin‟ up in Little Rock... (don‟t worry,
you probbly never heard of it)... yep, always listenin‟ to them tales
o‟pirates and buried treasure – so‟s I figured, all that treasure down
there just waitin‟ for someone t'just come‟n‟gettit!...

Yah‟mon... Whatteva mek yuh feel nice... – the hostess grinned as she
opened her patron‟s Red Stripe with a machete.
But the American shrugged – Maybe so, maybe no... y‟see, there‟s this
one treasure that always seems to elude me – a Spanish bark that went
down in a hurricane way back in the late 1500s... went by th‟name o‟the
San Clementy – yep, and according to its manifest, it‟d be one o‟the
most expensive finds hands down!... that is, of course, if anyone could
find it...
So why nat you? – the hostess teased.
You kiddin‟ me? – the American scoffed – O boy!, you Jamaicans!...
been eatin‟ too much o‟that there jerk sauce!... but I tell you what, If I
do find the San Clementy, I‟ll give you this restaurant as a tip „cuz that
ship‟s probbly worth half a‟billion easy – and that‟s „billion‟ with a „B‟!
Buenas, – pierced a tinny Hispanic accent – I cud not help
overhearing jou speek uf de San Clemente. Pearhaps I can be uf
searvice...

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 The American turned to find what looked like an elderly man –
(Cuban perhaps?) – redfaced and steely-eyed, cigar tips protruding from
the pockets of his unbuttoned khaki bush-jacket. Welcome to di Jolly
Rojuh! – greeted the hostess.

. . . . . . .

So what‟re you talkin‟ about? – asked the American.

The Cuban answered – Many yeers ago, I was deeee... navigatór por
de recovery vessel... comin-outta Key Vést, jou know?... Anywéh! – we
go down derr, diwing off de cost uf Cartagéna... wi luk for di shipwreck
(jou know de one you talk-about... deeee... San Clemente, jou-know?...
Anywéh! – we hear de radar ping so we send down de diwer and (o-my-
gad!) – we cud not belíve wha‟we find!...
Wooah!! – the American guffawed – You don‟t mean to tell me you
found that San Clementy, do ya? „Cuz you sho‟ don‟t look like no
millionaire!...
Nó, we find it... – the Cuban insisted as the skeptical American
grimaced, but the Cuban remained adamant – de diwer return, come
back and he find de ship‟s markings – so wi know es no lie, mang...
Look, I‟m tellin‟ you... de guy even brough‟me back a subenír...

The Cuban reached into one of his pockets and produced a coral
Rosary.

Whatta ting dat! – ridiculed the Jamaican – Mi tink mi saw „dat saame
ting in di giff shop „crass di street!
Pearhaps... – enticed the Cuban.
But the American tried to put his story to the test – Okay, Señor...
then how come you ain‟t livin‟ out on Star Island?... That‟s where I‟d be
if I found th‟San Clementy!
Nuh pay‟im nuh‟mind, mista! – the Jamaican smarted – Him juss wann
fi someone to invest!...
But the Cuban disarmed her – I am not eeehh... a scammer, nó?... I
hab de coordinates to where jou can find de San Clemente, if you want I
show you...
In exchange for what? – the American pressed.
Nó, no exyange, my fren... I yus wanna-help somebady, jou know?...

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 But the American remained skeptically amused – Alright then, what‟re
the coordinates?
Hol‟on... – the Cuban back-peddled – Férst, tell me why jou wanna
know...
Why I wanna know? Why wouldn‟t I wanna know? That‟s a heap
o‟money just sittin‟ down there at the bottom o‟the ocean!
Oyea, my fren, bot tell me... Whatta jou gonna do wid‟all dat
money?... An‟ be careful how jou answer, my fren... „cus jour answer
will detérmine whether or nó I give jou de coordinates...
Why yuh bodda listen to‟dis man? – the Jamaican smarted – him
definettly afta sumting fi true...

But the American thought for a moment. If he was indeed a scammer

as the hostess had suggested, then what was his scam? And what about
his promise to reveal the coordinates in exchange for a satisfactory
answer to his question? What was his game?

. . . . . . .

Alright, I‟m gonna answer yer question, – the American compromised

– but first, how „bout you tellin‟ me how come you don‟t go and
excavate that wreck yerself!
Well, issa long story, my fren...
I‟m listening.
The Cuban shrugged – Alright... when de captan an‟ I saw dat we had
find de San Clemente, wi dicide nó to tell nobady, eeeeh... de captan say
he wa‟for me to keppit a secret, jou know? – so I no tell no one...
Laad Jesus, what kine-a cockamamie story uno dat, mon? – scoffed
the Jamaican.
No, es for real! – insisted the Cuban – „Dat es wha‟happen! And later,
when de captan try ask mi for de coordinates...
Wooahh!! – the American interrupted – You mean to‟tell me that... you
just didn‟t...
Yessir! – the Cuban averred – I yust remind de captan wha‟he said
„dat nó to tell nobady an‟ so when he ask me later I no se nothing, jou
know wha‟I mean, mang?...
Yuh too lie! – squealed the Jamaican – eidda dat or yuh muss be mad!
The American also chastised him – Boy, that‟s a good one!...

46 | P a g e
 . . . . . . .

The Cuban put the coral Rosary back into his shirt pocket and turned
to leave.
Wait! – cajoled the American – Let‟s say you‟re right and that you do
know how t‟git to th‟San Clementy... If you‟re sworn not t‟reveal its
location, then why would you tell me?
But the Jamaican rolled her eyes in disdain.

Well I war prepared to keppit a secret „til my dying déy, but jou know
what? – the Cuban answered – De captan, eeeeh... (how-do-jou-say?)...
bitt me to it!...
Wot yuh tellin me? – the Jamaican wheezed – Yuh meen to seh dat
juss cause de captin fi dead, yuh nuh longa hafta obey him?
¡Claro! – the Cuban smiled, forgetting (as he often did) that he was
not in a Spanish-speaking country.

Okay, – the American reluctantly conceded – I‟m not sure I‟m buyin‟
all this, but... let‟s just say that if I had that money, I‟d buy me a house
on Star Island and live it up!
An‟ don‟ feget to invite me! – added the Jamaican half-jokingly.
But the Cuban was unconvinced – Alright... bot why jou wha‟to live en
Star Island?
„Cuz that‟s where th‟rich people live! – the American answered.
Wha‟you minn by „rich‟?
Well, uhhh...
He‟mean dem hav money, mon! – surmised the Jamaican – Dem cyan
do watteva dem wann fi do! an‟ nuh haffi worry „bout when dem nex
paycheck goine com‟in, yu‟undastann?
Ahhh... – the Cuban understood – I see... bot rich pipple, de hab
worries too, nó?
Some of‟em! – the American reckoned.
Right, so jou see my fren, money es nó de answer to ev‟rythíng...
A‟true dat! – the Jamaican relented as the American appeared to nod
in agreement.

. . . . . . .

47 | P a g e
 Well I tell you what, you show me how‟ta get to th‟San Clementy, and
I‟ll split it with you fifty-fifty! – the American haggled.
For wha‟? – asked the Cuban – Jou know if I wan‟ de money, I go
gettit myself, no prollem...
So then why don‟t you?
Issimple, mang, I don‟need de money...
Wot! – gasped the Jamaican – Yuh muss be indipendantly wealty!...
The Cuban laughed as she continued to marvel...
How yuh neva tell me dat yuh rich so!
But the American was all the more determined to figure him out –
Well then if you don‟t need th‟money, how „bout I just give yer fifty to
charity!

But the Cuban reached once again into his pocket and brandished the
coral Rosary. Ahhh... give to de poor! – he ruminated as the tiny gold
crucifix dangled from the glistening beads – and for why would you do
this, Papíto?

The American said nothing as the hostess disappeared into the kitchen.
What a conundrum? If he said he would give to the poor in order to
attain something for himself, he would be unworthy of that which he
had hoped to attain (and thus would not receive it); but if he confessed
his unworthiness in order to give to the poor altruistically, then that
which he had hoped to attain from the wreck of the San Clemente would
no longer be his, but instead would belong to the poor whom he himself
would undoubtedly join.

But as for the Cuban (assuming he even was a Cuban), he left the Jolly
Roger Social Club with his secret as yet untold, praising the LORD and
still clutching his treasured coral Rosary against his chest. But before he
exited, he turned once again to the frustrated man at the bar.

Bléssed es de poor en espirit, – he said – Por der‟s es de kíngdom de

Habana...

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