Three Obsessive Christ-Tales Apparently someone thinks that if they arrange A little glass table near the coffee machine, With some magazines, the National Geographic Luridly displaying starving people in Africa, say, And if they leave a stack of fresh brochures Telling of opportunity for missionary work Right there so the visitor can hardly miss it, Here in the visitor's waiting room, outside The office of the Dean of Student Affairs, At the Divinity School--though I've seen Virtually this same set-up in hospital lobbies, And I think perhaps automobile showrooms-- Apparently this is meant to demonstrate a Great outreaching thought for all humanity, Like the constant effort of this very office, So, when you see it, this bright display, you begin to feel just a little bit useless, Yourself, today, it puts a bitter taste into The coffee that might have been luxuriant. Apparently its another technique of the Zealous secretary, who keeps this house, I mean this outpost looking relevant, so The slumbering conscience of the visitor Who's condemned to wait here in suspense, Might be aroused, for if he's waiting, He's not busy, not as busy as those he's come To see, like the Dean of Student Affairs, Or the doctor, who he's waiting for becomes Confused in the general memory of Other waiting rooms, while they check His credit, or his previous record here, And he's tempted to read these magazines, Considering any . . . travel opportunity! But wait, I thought, I am the visitor today. Who do they think they are applying to? I'm so disconsolate, I'm in a rut, I might Resent this sneak attack, I mean appeal. And then I thought, well I should overturn This decor, it's nothing but a bit of Contemporary charm. And in my sudden Nervousness I bounced the paper cup off My knee, staining the rug with a map of Africa, I thought. And in the whirlwind of Confusion lasting three days from that Turnabout, things led of course to my arrest, And my arrest, in this case, could only lead to my . . . crucifixion. II I forget what we had been talking about, Well, I think it was a job interview, only I Don't remember what the job was, that Like never quite came up. But I was in the Visitor's chair, and he, whom I was beseeching, Was behind the desk established there. I was already guilty, too much intensity Was in my voice and I was leaning forward Like to make the room three-dimensional I guess. And then all I could say at a certain Point was, well!, sir, I guess I am unusual, You think I am quite unusual, with the Things I say--don't you? And said, well, quite!, Like he'd give me that, quite out of the ordinary. Then I said, well what is the cause of that, Do you think? He said, the cause of what? I said, the cause of my being so unusual, you Know, what could be the cause of that, do You think? It was abstract, but I forced it For the ending. We were on a plateau, in A dialogue I'd seen coming, skeletal, but Marked out, fatefully. Excuse me, sir, how Come it's so obvious here, that I'm different? I thought he might feel sorrow, actually, But apparently this struck him as--braggery! He said mockingly, do you think you are Better than everyone? He wasn't moving but He was accusing me of some deep hostility. I said, what!, you misunderstand me sir, I Said I was unusual, not better--don't you Want to know what it is, and why I don't Belong here . . . ? I feigned to look outside The window, but the scenery there dropped From view, I guess we were too high up in The office building. Sure, he said, oh sure, What is it? Then he ruffled some papers, Looked at the phone like it should ring Right then. Sure, what is it? Like I could Tell him my sad situation, just before I go. I said, well sir, it's the truth, the truth That is bending me out of shape, all day long The truth is dogging me, as I sit here the Truth is stalking me, it's hounding me No end. I said this quietly and sincerely. Then I paused and looked at the rug, like in a Penance, then I came up sort of grinning. I said, yeah, while you just sit there watching! Okay, I guess I'd crossed him, somewhere. He rolled his eyes back in his head and yawned. He become perplexed, like he'd lost his place, And complained of a sudden headache. I saw, he was in terrible shape himself. So I said, well, sir, it's no time to veer into a Crisis, sir, is it? Just relax, maybe something Will sink in. I thought, we might be friends. He smiled at me so sickeningly, it was a joke. But he appeared to feel much better, like I'd let him off the hook, and he could forget Or file away our near clash. And I wandered away, not clear of any clear repercussions-- I was wondering why . . it was so thin, the talk. But in the days ahead apparently it grew on Him, for later he decided (I saw him at the trial, Right with the prosecuting attorney) to have Me arrested. And, he recommended to all the seated jury, crucified. III I just made an appointment on a vague pretext To get in to see the head Minister, at the Church I used to attend fairly regularly, Though I couldn't really remember when, Before I guess the truth had got me, anyway. And I settled into the green leather chair, When he motioned to it, but, oh no I thought, I'm too far across the room, this chair's Been placed like just beyond the range of Eye contact! I felt alone, as he stared toward Me feebly, took off his reading glasses, put Them in his breast pocket carefully. He Was making a tent, or a little church, with His hands, and listening to me with such Practiced intensity--I mean he was listening To me even before I spoke, like to christen Everything I said, bless it with deep promised Understanding. Apparently, I thought, that's His position, listener. I came to talk, so I'm Behind already. Good, I thought, I'll just make Him sweat a minute, and say nothing to begin With . . . and see what comes of that, if anything. Eventually he said, come now, what is it, you Can tell me. I felt maybe I should start crying, To justify this mood I'd caused. Then I tried to Stand up, but the devil weakened my knees, This leather chair had softly entrapped me, And the minister was saying, with his eyes That, I swear, could not see a supplicant-- Do not, son, deceive me now, but speak up, There is chapter and verse here, to save you . . . Then he thumbed the rollodex, took a mint Not like a sacrament, but a freshener. So then I launched my serious inquiry. And Prefaced it with that fatal grin, that only God Could've given me. I said, do you have, sir, At least a partial grasp on the truth concerning Jesus Christ, sir? Sorry, to say it so inelegantly, But . . . do you? He said, what? I said Nothing, I mean I didn't say, Nothing, I said Nothing. He said what, again. Like I should Say it slowly, maybe even more directly. So, I said, do you have at least a partial grasp, A personal grasp, though maybe partial, some Kind of grasp, sir, on the truth concerning Jesus. Jesus Christ, I mean, you know. Then I said, loudly, flailing my arms I fear, do you Hear me! His tent near collapsed, maybe, or He strengthened it, restrengthening his hands. Well, he said, I would guess of course I do. Was that my question? I could see he wanted To snort and laugh at the discovery of Such an elemental inquiry. He was set now to Really relax. Good! I said, I figured yes was The answer to that. And then I grew frightfully Silent, more silent than the whole empty church On a weekday afternoon. This is wonderful, I Said, it's so much like what . . . I expected. Then he tried to dig the real problem up-- He said, what is it now, what did you Come here for, come on now and tell me. Well! I said, this might get difficult, but Try to follow me. He sort of puffed up with a Mighty confidence. He was all disdain. Take As long as you like, he said, like the Difficulty was going to be . . . my phrasing it. Okay, I said, let's make short work of this, And I leaned forward. which sprang me to My feet miraculously, put my hands out Like a traffic cop. Okay, I said, you have this Grasp now, but you aren't going to say, like An apostle, that you want to sit with him On the throne, are you? He said, what? You heard me, I said. You wouldn't say you Know the truth so closely, like a close Disciple, like Peter or John? Well, he said, I am a disciple, in some sense of course. You'd use the word. I'd use the word. You'd Use the word, but--I said, you won't be Requesting an honored seat at the table, Will you, at the banquet of the Lord. He smiled at me, programmaticly, said I see you have been reading up my lad. I said, sir, answer the question. Okay, He said gamesmanly, I guess I'm not as Far as that. He shrunk humbly in his chair, And swivelled to give himself leg room, Then incredibly he adjusted this diamond Clip on his tie so it caught some light, Flashing like a signal to passing angels Probably, and I could tell he was going To come back fighting soon. So I goaded Him severely. I said, come now sir, are you Not claiming entry into heaven? Well, he Said, and he looked pretty nearly, well Maybe, but not like . . . Peter and John. Okay, good, I said, you're not in heaven Yet, but saved to some sort of entry level Degree. He said, what are you driving at! I said, I'm not sure, I'm conducting this interview on the spot. I see, he said, And I saw him kind of shudder, then relax. He was relaxing in the presence of a madman. I see, he said again, and took up the Ministerial position again, made the tent With his hands. I said, that's a church! What's a church? That little shape you Make with your hands, is that a church? I took a step forward like to come over And have a look. Look, he said, what is This all about? Ah, sorry, I said, I guess We drifted. Let's get back to the subject. Well, he drawled, I'm afraid I don't know What that is, young man. I thought, why Do people call me "young man", when I'm Clearly aging . . . aging fast in these scenes. I said, well sir I meant to keep this simple. Say, does it take away the vanity of a thought, If the thought is true? He said, wait. I said Let me say it slowly for you. If a person Has a thought that is true . . . He interrupted Me--like if I completed one sentence I'd get The damn advantage. Like what, he asked. Like what that's true? I said. Yea, he said, Like what, what is true? I though, man This guy ought to be on film, he's classic! Oh well, I said, that's where, you see, I Started, like, I mean, like I said before, if A person has at least a partial grasp on The truth, the truth concerning Jesus Christ, You see, that's what we are talking about, Most appropriately, and why I came to you, Like you know, if a person thinks they know Who He was or something, well, then, does It . . . again he interrupted me. He said, And who was He . . . do you think. I said, You're asking me? Oh no you don't! I said, I know the truth, believe me, I wanted to ask You about it. I wanted to know where you Stand. Stand on what? he said. Jesus! I Swore. Jesus Christ, stand on the truth! Now he puts his hands on his head, like Checking to see if his hair is in place, not Scorched! I think, he's going to reach for The phone, but it's a candy in a dish he Is reaching for. Want one, he says. No thanks, I said, I will be going in a minute, and I Intend to smoke a cigarette in the hall, or The parking lot. I've got it all planned . . . Anyway, let's get back to the conversation. By all means, he says, let's get back, I'd like To see where this leads. I thought, this the Limit of his archness and lying, he's sure There is no cause left in this interview . . . Does it take away the vanity of a thought, I began again, and held up my stop-sign again. Don't interrupt me, I said. Does it take away The vanity of a thought, if the thought is true? He said, are you quoting somebody? Not Kierkegaard, I said. He laughed, like for a Second I'd become his equal. He said, what Do you mean by vanity? I said, vanity Consists in believing the truth is meant For you. He said nothing. I said, do you Want me to repeat that for you? He shut His eyes. Could be any truth, I said, like It's true your shirts come back from the Laundry. Oh boy, he said, what does that Have to do with anything? Well, I said, You keep sending them out, and getting Them back. I think maybe your faith is Like that. Like a voice said to you, Christ Is the way, and you say thank you very Much, I can use that information, and You actually ask for things when you pray. He said, I don't see where this is heading. Of course you don't, I said. He said, I Have an appointment. With the devil if You don't follow this through, I said real Politely. Who do you think is on trial here, Me . . . or you. Then everything stood still. I knew time stopped, or I had all the time in The world. It was easy from that point on, like I was watching it. I said, you see sir, I came here for employment. He said, what? I thought, well with this truth about, maybe We could join forces. Of course I know you Are not a preacher like the preachers who First ventured out. You shrink from that-- You're church is more of an exercise in Folding your hands, I see that, and your Grasp only partial, though it's a grasp, I'll Grant you that. Maybe I should hire you, I said, and we could film your feeble Testimonials, and people would react with Such scorn, that would be helpful. I don't Mean to be insulting, I am not really insulting, There is no vanity in my assertions, at least. What do you mean by that? he said. Confess, I said, why don't you confess your authority! He says, I have some authority. Well then, I Said, you can hire me. I just want work. He says, what kind of work? Direct work, I Said. He says, well we have missionary work Available. I thought, he'll reach for the forms. No thank you, I said, I want to stay around Here. True missionaries always work the Neighborhood they are born in. Is that right, He says. Yea, I said, where were you born? Cincinnati, he says. I see, I said, what are You doing around here? I thought, he must Get it. You see sir, I've come to replace you. Maybe I've had enough of this, he said. Yeah, I said, it isn't going anywhere. You won't budge. What kind of work is it you think you can do, Anyway, he said. I said, I thought to give a Slideshow on the history of the world, and Hire a band, and become a poet. I'll need Many stagehands. I want to work, I said, Directly with the truth, the truth and . . . Nothing else. Sorry I've wasted your time. Then I didn't even try to move, I knew the Devil had frozen my legs, and my mouth Was dry. I just sat down again, like to Conserve my strength. He said, wait right Here. And he got up, left through a door between The books. And I waited for the longest time. Then with giddiness I usurped his chair, And the twilight in that room began to Spread outside, another time the long night Of history was coming. When they came, They asked me no questions, they were men I had never seen, who would never know me, And they turned me over to the authorities. Who arrested me, and made the plans to Crucify me . . . for good. But like Peter, I escaped all worldly jails, and like John I lived forever, multiplying the Christ-tales Until everyone could say, he knew the truth!