Stones   Yea, let them turn every one from his evil way, and from the violence that is in their hands.                                                         — Jonah 3:8   I want to debate them, defeat them, shame them — the loudmouth Christians, the ones who miss the point, pursue earthly ends in God’s name. And in my mind, I propound it like this:      “An interesting guy, your Jesus — the one who looks a lot like you, picks sides, takes bribes, rules with fear — hate-thy-neighbor Jesus, gunrack Jesus, get-rich-quick Jesus, my-tribe’s- the-right-tribe Jesus, the one who speaks English just like you do, uses words that mean exactly what you think they mean, who singles out his chosen few, his favorites, the clean and godly ones — like you.                                             “My Jesus? He doesn’t need my flattery, doesn’t care about my clothes or my sect or my creed — ever-sought-but-never-found Jesus, dare- to-be-holy Jesus, mystical Jesus who spoke in riddles, wrote nothing down, who calmly faced his tormenters and teased them with questions, Jesus who astounded the crowds with stories and love, with miracles and magic — everything-you-know- is-wrong, the-kingdom-of-heaven-is-here- before-you Jesus, a regular Joe, a carpenter’s kid from up north, who knew suffering, washed down his supper with wine, who laughed and cried and wondered — the whole human truth. You’ve got your Jesus, I’ve got mine.”      With that I rest my case, and their side groans while my side applauds.                                       Jesus himself keeps his counsel and looks down at all the stones I’ve just cast and those cast at me, and weeps.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont October 2023