The Paradox of Clowns

The Paradox of Clowns

(“Examine yourselves, seeing whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Do you not know that Jesus Christ is in you?” 2 Corinthians 13:5)

We can function just fine, the
windows pasted with rain,
our cups filled with wine.

We can subsist too well, our
porches are well-ordered,
our plates swell with bread.

We know the steps to the dances,
the lyrics to all of Dylan’s songs;
we know what is expected,
Counting all the rights and the wrongs.

But when we are wronged, let’s just
admit it,
the cross was for another man, another time.
And when we are right, lets not

fool ourselves,
we fancy a crown, a ribbon, a promotion,
an honorary degree to show how well we get it.

Still, we are shaken. Within, we are shocked,
(stand by please) and we mock the disheveled shells
of dissenters to our well-crafted lives. Just before sleep
as the last frog in the pond finishes its mating song,
we see the lies, the painted siding, the patched wallboard
and the stains on the rug.

We love Jesus, but we require him to love our loves more.
Jesus saves us. You know, years ago when we wept on the altar floor.
But all we wanted was some remodeling done,
a coat of paint to show whose side we are on.

Just before sleep, if our breathing slows enough, we might
feel the disclosure of scaffolds and hammers and saws
deeper within us than galaxies or stars.

What is the music, the inner racket, the gnawing and buzzing
that at first annoys, then destroys, then stretches toward the
joy

that reimagines everything. Transforms anything.
Invites everyone. Dines with anyone.
Dangerous and transcendent, kaleidoscopic and
transparent,
the song parades like the preservation jazz band
with the same tune played a million different ways.

We would hear him singing if we only listened within,
and heard the music that is
unafraid
of the paradox of clowns.