Fake blood Jesus

Jesus died a cruel and brutal death.

We all know that. Crucifixion,

as a means of execution,

was not chosen for its humane qualities

but for its effectiveness. An innocent man

dies a painful death. He was not alone.

Like people in many countries today,

no less innocent of the crimes

of which they have been accused;

arbitrary victims of policies of oppression,

or simply to increase the reign of fear

among the populace.

In processions and shopping centres,

at this time of the year we see them;

fake red blood dripping abundantly

from earnest male bodies.

Surrounded by like-minded supporters,

they plod towards their imagined Calvary,

or excitedly ascend their particular version

of a wooden cross.

Exploiting their captive audience,

they issue their “Easter” invitation to choose

between heaven and hell.

Is this what Easter is all about?

I would abandon my faith in an instant

if I thought it were so.

If Easter means anything, it surely

declares that those who have been touched

by resurrection’s power will not rest

until the brutal causes of Jesus death;

injustice, cruelty, fear, and wilful ignorance,

have been eliminated by love.

Let resurrection’s generosity, grace and self-giving

reign, and let questions of heaven and hell

be consigned to the same heap of irrelevance

as all the fake blood.

© Ken Rookes 2010
I posted this poem last year, bur feel that is remains relevant after viewing, (and taking part in) the Bendigo Easter Festival Procession this morning