12/25/2012

Baby Jesus, Save Me From Hipsters


Dear Baby Jesus, I want you to be my savior, but I don't believe in sin or hell. So what can you save me from?

Save me from hipsters.

Save me from cynicism.

Baby Jesus, save me from much thinking. All I need is your blue sky.

You don't have to save me from anger, Jesus, but save me from the numbness of pretending never to be mad.

I don't mind being stupid either, and I rather like bewilderment; but save me from the pretense of intelligence in a world created for wonder.

Jesus, save me from smiley face people who never admit to feeling sad, and depress-aholics who never admit to feeling happy.

Save me from being right, Jesus. Save me from being left too. And please, baby Jesus, save me from political correctness.

Save me from those who need to call themselves "black," and those who need to call themselves "white." Save me from hyphens. Just give me shades of color without names.

Save me from nations, tribes and ethnicities: all I want is people.

Jesus, save me from semi-automatic rifles with extra-long ammo-clips, and from men suffering anxiety about their penis size who think they need such ridiculous weapons.

Baby Jesus, I never understood whether you were conceived out of wedlock or in wedlock, or why the hell it matters; and I never figured out what sort of relationship you had with Mary Magdalene after you grew up; but save me from those who want to define other people's marriages, and other people's families.

Baby Jesus, bless those who work on Christmas day, and all who work two jobs just to earn half a living, while others earn millions collecting stock dividends without working at all: save me from people who call that "justice."

Jesus, save me from noise. Save me from brain-dead music, from amped-up guitars that drown out flutes and gentle acoustic strings and singing bowls. Save me from smooth jazz, from the song of the Food Court, from marching bands and cheer leaders.

Also, please save me from people who dress in polyester suits to match the color of their football team.

Baby Jesus, save me from the next app. Help me get back to real sunlight, water, rocks and mushrooms, without having to photo-shop your entire creation.

Save me from insta-grams of happy hour and lemon fettuccine with arctic char and sweet potato puree.

Jesus, you loved breast milk, bread and wine. You served loaves and fishes and fatted lamb. You never preached about food. In fact, you declared all foods pure. Please save me from people who tell me what to eat and what not to eat. I had a great aunt like that and no one ever married her.

Save me from gluten-free bread, non-alcoholic beer, and vegan health bars. Please, God, just let candy be candy and let me eat a little now and then.

Jesus, save me from glitzy flower quotes by Buddha or Laotzu, that Buddha and Laotzu never said.

Save me from all scriptures, so that I can rediscover them as great stories.

Save me from department store Santas who terrorize toddlers to delight their parents.

Save me from Nordstrom and Wallmart, which are actually the same store. Jesus, I don't mind a one-world government, but save me from a one-world store.

When I was six, I greatly feared that when I grew up the whole world would be a parking lot. Jesus, save me from parking lots and cars.

Dear Baby Jesus, save me from Christmas.

I don't mean the real one; I mean the electronic holiday that makes everybody suicidal, the Nativity scene of midnight shoppers stampeding through the neon super-mall to spend and call it saving. I'm not sure this is what "save" means.

Save Me, baby Jesus. Never stop being born. I don't want to take the Christ out of Christmas, I want to take the Christmas out of Christ.

Please rest in the manger of my body, Jesus; be who I really am.

And never stop filling my heart with your quietness, that star, that Mother's gaze, the white breath of animals, your breath...

Because when I feel that quietness, Lord, deep inside, I am human like you.

Painting, Mary Adcock

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