A politics of Jesus in our time
would must recall Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, and remember that Luke
includes woes along with his blessings, and thus inspires, perhaps, other odd
and poetic voices deeply disturbed by the facts on the ground.
Wendell Berry wrote this poem in
January, 1991, during the first Gulf War. Hardly a day has passed during the
ensuing 21 years – the entire lifetime of my eldest child – when the words of
this poem did not ring sadly true. Berry’s remains a singularly prophetic
voice, and one that anyone pretending to articulate a politics of Jesus ought
to study with care.
The year
begins with war.
Our bombs
fall day and night,
Hour after
hour, by death
Abroad
appeasing wrath,
Folly, and
greed at home.
Upon our
giddy tower
We’doversway
the world.
Our hate
comes down to kill
Those whom
we do not see,
For we have
given up
Our sight to
those in power
And to
machines, and now
Are blind to
all the world.
This is a
nation where
No lovely
thing can last.
We trample,
gouge, and blast;
The people
leave the land;
The land
flows to the sea.
Fine men and
women die, the fine old houses fall,
The fine old
trees come down:
Highway and
shopping mall
Still
guarantee the right
And liberty
to be
A peaceful
murderer,
A murderous
worshipper,
A slender
glutton, or
A healthy
whore. Forgiving
No enemy,
forgiven
By none, we
live the death
Of liberty,
become
What we have feared to be.
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