Jesus In Camouflage

As I understand it, Jesus may've had two related reasons for not wishing to be identified as the Son of God right from the beginning of His ministry. The first could've been that in the society in which He lived, such an identification would've proved to be fatal without concrete, indisputable, evidence that He was a manifestation of God the Almighty.

The second reason for not being revealed overtly as God ties into the first and is concerned with the nature of salvation. Given that salvation hinges on one's faith in God and in His actions--such as, but not limited to, the resurrection of Jesus--and that faith is defined as belief in the absence of material, existential, proof/evidence, then the possibility of faith would've been eliminated had the truth of Jesus-is-God been made manifest and proof beyond the possibility of being doubted.

The reality of Jesus's miracles and the truth of His teaching can only require faith if Jesus is seen by the people as being from/of God but not as being God The Most High Himself. As long as Jesus performs miracles and presents teachings that are made possible by God, faith in God and in the actions and sayings of Jesus, the Face of God to the people of Earth (and to the entirety of Creation) remains possible, and to some, even self-evident (though I am not in the least of the opinion that that would be for the best).

Faith as belief in an intellectual vacuum is well suited to meditation but, only after one is satisfied with one's definition of "belief."

The In Outside

Now, open the door 

And step on through  

Into my suite of rooms.

And so very sweet 

My rooms can be...

Door, closet, cupboard:

Here, where most of 

What you're able to 

See, carries 'pon

Its crosshatched back

A silent sliding metaphor

Of a well masked majick door.

Then, with a stride both 

Noble and high-blood 

Dignified, you approach 

An Aeon in a gown.

And I may hide a prize in 

Disguise: an eldritch gate

To the beating black meat 

That is the heart of our 

Common cold and callous 

Eternity.

An eternity, not 

Of words, but just an 

Amorphous cloud of

Random 

Scattered 

Glyphs...

Query The Captain

When 'round a sphere

You go, how much trust 

Can you abide

When you're out of sight 

Of the other side?

Does direction draw

You on, your path dictate,

Whether true or dire

Mistake?

Have you chosen well 

Through navigation or lost

Your path through lack

Of foresight, skill or

Mayhap a faceless,

Fey, feckless or

Merely malign Fate?

The End Begins

Carouse in chaos!

It's so much more fun

Than Universal 

Laws or rules allow 

Matter to behave.

Seek your fulfillment 

In the random joy

Found by every

Single girl and boy 

Every day they

Remember to live,

Not as hoarders of 

Their supply of love,

But may they instead

Sow whole fields with seeds

Of the compassion 

Our withered world needs.

In Passing

How long is an æon?

How many eras in an inch?

Where to find Sir Theron, 

Whose mother was a bitch?

Haiku #408

Walk wet shifting shores

One foot entropic, one not

The sea's swells betray 

Evening Stroll

Late night walk
Wearing shades.
My route penetrates
The perimeter
Of a spectral landscape.

Seeing through my glasses
Darkly, a vision filled with
The glow of unnumbered,
Unknown souls
Which resolve with decreasing
Distance into hundreds of
Candles in their
Protective lanterns
Flickering
In a
Graveyard.

Though in a far-northern land
My mind fills
With images of Mexico's
Day of the Dead.

Only here there are no
Dancing skeletal
Marionettes or
Fragrant candy skulls.