Word Count: 1198

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Matthew XXIII

by   
12/16/2017 / Poetry

(1) Then Jesus warned the multitudes

        About those double-dealing dudes

(2) Those scribes and Pharisees who sit

        In Moses’ seat, although unfit

(3) “Now heed their words but not their works”

        He said of those pretentious jerks

    “For when they say, but do not do

        They prove unfaithful through and through

(4) Such heavy burdens they do bind

        Upon men’s shoulders, yet you’ll find

    That not one finger will they lift

        To light the load or mend the rift

(5) But all their deeds are for display

        To gain men’s praises all the day

    And their phylacteries are broad

        Yet all their prayers are ichabod

     Their garments’ borders swagger wide

        In keeping with their foolish pride

(6) They prize the best seats in the house

        With all the lust that they can rouse

(7) Called ‘Rabbi! Rabbi!’ by the crowd

        They love their titles broadcast loud

(8) But lofty labels are a heist

        Just one’s your Rabbi, called 'The Christ'

(9) Hail no one ‘Father’ here on earth

        Save, He who gave you second birth

(10) Reserve the title ‘Teacher,’ too

        For Him who shows you all things new

(11) Now whoso is the greatest one

        Shall be your servant, like the Son

    So when you sit, he’ll wash your feet

        And when you hunger, give you meat

(12) For he who sets himself on high

        The same shall tumble from the sky

    But he who’s humble, he who’s meek

        The same is placed high on a peak

(13) But woe to you, foul Pharisees

        Who shut up heaven as you please

    You keep yourselves from going in

        And slam the door against all men

(14) And woe to you, O, scheming scribes

        Who seize the homes of dead men’s wives

    Then for a pretense make long prayers

        Thus, condemnation is your share

(15) Yes, woe to you, O, hypocrites

        Who cast your own into the pit

    You travel land and travel sea

        With your religiosity

     And when the proselyte is won

        You seal his fate before you’re done

    Ignoring just how far you fell

        You make him twice the son of hell

(16) And woe to you, blind guides, who say

        ‘Mere temple oaths are castaways

    But swear by all the temple’s gold

        Then that’s a vow you must uphold’

(17) For which is greater, fools and blind

        And which is foremost in your mind?

    The gold and silver piled high

        Or temple stones that sanctify?

(18) And this is what you also claim

        To your disgrace and utter shame

    ‘Whoever by the altar swears

        His oath is nothing…no one cares

    But swear by gifts that sit atop

        And those are vows you cannot drop’

(19) Again, you are but fools and blind

        With values sorely misaligned

    For which is greater in your eyes?

        The gift or that which sanctifies?

(20) Now, whosoever gives their word

        And by God’s altar does begird

    Then here’s the fullness you commit

        You swear by all that’s placed on it

(21) And whosoever gives their word

        And by the temple does begird

    Vow good or bad, vow thick or thin

        You swear by him who dwells therein

(22) And whosoever gives their word

        And uses heaven to begird

    Is swearing by the throne of God

        And He does winnow truth from fraud

(23) O, woe to all you pompous scribes

        For your relentless diatribes

    And, woe to all you Pharisees

        For clinging to hypocrisies

    You pay a tithe of mint and spice

        And while that may seem very nice

    You’ve spurned the bigger points of law

        The justice, mercy, faith for all

    It’s these you surely should have done

        Without the others left undone

(24) O, blind guides, you strain out a gnat

        Then gulp a camel after that

(25) O, woe to all you hypocrites

        Whose souls are stained with filth and grit

    You cleanse the outside of the cup

        And wash the dish the wrong side up

    Yet, inside they are full of grime

        Extortion, pride and other slime

(26) First clean the inside then you’ll find

        The outside’s clean too, fools and blind

(27) O, woe to all you Pharisees

        Who love to spread your dread disease

    For you are like a whitewashed tomb

        Which outwardly is primped and groomed

    But inside there are dead men’s bones

        And unclean things that life disowns

(28) Yes, similarly you appear

        To men as righteous, but it’s clear

    Your outward flash of flawlessness

        Obscures your inner lawlessness

(29) O, woe to all you hypocrites

        For all the venom that you spit

    You build the tombs of prophets past

        And gild them so they’re unsurpassed

(30) With haughty pride you falsely say

        ‘If we had lived back in the day

    Then we would not have joined the flood

        Of those who shed the prophets’ blood’

(31) So, therefore you do testify

        Against yourselves, you don’t deny

    That you’re the sons of those who killed

        The prophets, that the Voice be stilled

(32) You know the ‘how,’ the ‘where,’ and ‘when’

        So, go ahead and fill up, then

    The measure of your fathers’ guilt

        The fullness of the blood they spilt

(33) You brood of vipers! Serpents, all!

        Your pride has come before your fall

    Now, how can you escape, pray tell

        The condemnation that is hell?

(34) Indeed, I send you prophets, and

        They, too, shall suffer at your hand

    For, some you’ll scourge and terrify

        And others you will crucify

(35) That all the righteous blood that’s shed

        Upon the earth come on your head

    From righteous Abel at the first

        To Zechariah, where your thirst

    For blood arose ‘tween temple porch

        And shadows ‘neath the altar’s torch

(36) Assuredly, I say to you

        That all these things I speak are true

    Upon this generation falls

        A culmination that appalls

(37)  Jerusalem, Jerusalem

        You slaughter prophets when they come

    And stone the ones who have been sent

        Instead of turning to repent

     How oft I sought to gather all

        Your children if they’d hear My call

    Just as a hen collects her chicks

        Beneath her wings, but you cried 'nix!'

(38) Well, look around for you shall see

        The folly of rejecting Me

    Behold!  Your house is left to you

        As desolate, dry residue

(39) And, now it’s time I go away

        And not return until you say

    ‘How blessed is the One, O, Lord

        Who lifts your Name and brings your Word' "

 

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