Mrs. Albert Vickers John Singer Sargent (1856-1925)

The Poem of Christ

A Mantegna or Holbein reproduction –
where the body is like a landscape.
We are used to distorted tales,
to dead apparitions, and this landscape is ours.

We keep on crucifying Christ,
and we read Kazantzakis novel
with fervent haste.
Christ is dead – and that is our flaw.

Christ is alive – and the heavens above us
are filled with radiant light – Christ is alive –
they proclaim.
Kind to sins,
we do not gather spiritual roses.

The waters of Jordan shine
with a warm and golden brocade,
and baptism of light embraces
the Son of Man – stand firm!

The path to deification, given to
the Son of Man, we shall not repeat!
In our deceitful modern age –
it would be so absurd. Go forth with them!

A dove gently glows golden in the sky.
Gods son goes forth to preach.
Black faces all around, dull,
a futile cycle of pale deeds.

How can he, born in a cave,
acquire royal power, dense authority?
The Magi came, believing in the event.
Hades craved sacrifices in vain.

They rode on blue – and round –
snow on camels and donkeys.
Shepherds walked – the night bloomed absurdly,
with an incomprehensible joy in their hearts.

... in the office, a scam is unfolding,
a fat boss rubs his hands together.
There are measures for crimes too.
Is Christ born in every heart?

Master Eckhart said: To be born
in Bethlehem could happen a thousand times –
unless it happens in your heart –
then the story is nothing.

Here is the flight to Egypt, key event,
for the angel proclaimed it.
What next? Your heart is troubled,
you think? The substance of events
strives to be felt – or did Christ understand
the wisdom of light in the East?
But the gospel verses
will remain silent. However, there is a question.

Here is the miraculous catch –
Rebbe gained disciples.
The word of temptation in the wilderness
canceled the light.
Many words
we know, believing that they are in union
with the eternal Word of Words.
Who now will be overtaken by vanity?
Few are willing to do so.

... wars raged fiercely into reality,
wars where blood was spilled for faith.
Arrows, spears – as if life is banal,
and love is distorted around.

Christ enters Jerusalem,
cleanses the temple from greedy people.
The Last Suppers sound – so real,
people like us will never know it.

Who was Joseph of Arimathea,
who collected Christs blood in a cup?
Fulfilling the duty of existence
in a bitter, extremely difficult hour.
You are great, Christ – I know, I know,
I am a writer – exceedingly small.
And – alas – I suffer not for you,
but I am pierced by a sum of evils.

You are great – I come to you,
life-giving word! Revive
my soul, if I do not comprehend it –
if it is in sin, almost in blood?

A garden full of lights, and torches flare
in the hands of soldiers, and here
Christ is taken, and passions pierce
people – they are full of longing for something.

Pilates trial – a trial that is not a trial in essence.
He would have sent legions instead
dressed as Zealots... But this path
is impossible, even though Pilate craved
to release such a poor man.
But the law cannot be changed.

If Christ came from the word,
then events must happen according to the word.

They flogged him fiercely, mocked him,
and wove a crown of thorns.
And in a crimson cloud they frolicked,
the petty concerns of fleshly beings.

Christ walked – he walked – bent by the cross,
blood was created in capsules of sand.
Sacred blood...
Laughter, sharp tales,
rags, and curiosity – where is love?

Its spherical volume is above us.
Who gives alms to the poor today?
Who fears sin? Well – its not a flame:
sin is pleasant, it hardly burns.

The spherical volume of love is above us.
Christ goes through a labyrinth of torments.
What enmity have we raised as our banner –
the question of our ignorance?
The true ignorance – to fail to see,
to separate essence from tinsel.
Worship! Here is your rock idol!
Rejoice – life is a game of variations.

Christian churches cannot
heal the cracks with love.
We are more important than that, in the morning – yogurt,
and we generally like to live sweetly.

We are holier! We are closer to Christ!
Interchurch dialogue will not happen.
We see nothing above the roof.
I do not judge – I ponder.
Here.

Here is Christ walking, bent by the cross.
Here he is crucified. Resurrected. Light shines.
We grow – and steadily create
the garden of life.
And there are no alternatives.