This poem attempts to articulate what the so-called educated, secular, liberal person might think about God. It is their hymn (not mine).
Don’t all reasonable people look for proof?
In an age of scientific method folk demand it,
And distrust anything that smacks of ‘blind faith’.
Surely that road leads to the suicide bomber?
Yes, proof is the watch word for today’s (wo)man.
C’mon God, let’s see the colour of your eyes!
So much for the real presence – half baked indeed!
Let’s have an online presence we can ‘like’.
It just won’t do God. You, won’t do any more.
Is it any surprise that the advance of education,
Sees the decline of superstitious mumbo jumbo?
You don’t speak from volcanoes. You… just don’t speak.
Nice guy that Jesus – he had some good ideas.
But a tadge too intense, forcing an identity crisis.
Son of God? Son of Man? Son of… a carpenter.
A chip off the old block wasn’t good enough for him.
And yet he split history? Just goes to show what
A charismatic shepherd can do with his sheep:
Corral them into a supernatural eschaton.
Pie in the sky for pennies in the plate. Amen.
No wonder hoc est enim became hocus pocus.
A spot of mystery is preferable to the plain truth.
Mushroom spirituality for the ignorant Masses,
And indulgence(s) for the initiated inner few.
And what a multinational corporation we have!
Wealth of nations? More the wealth of centuries!
Compound interest flowing into curial coffers.
Maybe the ‘prosperity gospel’ is nothing new?
You tried the hellfire and thunder approach,
But nowadays it’s happy clappy alleluias.
Unconditional love – what on earth is that?
Who should pull the plug – you or us?
Nah Lord, you shot your bolt long ago.
Crucified yourself ‘as lovers often do’.
We don’t want salvation, we want gadgets:
Technological progress for our artificial hearts.
Is there any point in you God? Whad’ya say?
Speak Lord, your doubting servants are listening.
Well, some might be listening – most past caring.
Your world and your children have passed you by.
From your eternal perspective, has it been a failure?
Did love get bogged down by this thing called sin?
And if humankind manage to find a cure for death,
Well, maybe you’re redundant in the last analysis?
For, assuming we don’t destroy ourselves first,
And aliens don’t come and make us their playthings,
We’ll go from strength to strength without you.
So ta da God, and remember, all will be well…