American Beatitudes. A targum.

(I, of course, owe much to Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat in the inspiration of this.)
Edited 11/2/2009 8:00 pm

Wake up.
Become aware.
Come alive.
Because
The Republic of God,
The United States of Heaven,
The Commonwealth of Jesus
is right here in front of you,
is right here inside you.
There is another way.

Privileged are those without hope or ability to succeed in the economic and political and (especially) religious systems of the world,
those without a college degree,
those without enough capital to start a business,
those deep in debt,
those who don't have time to get all spiritual,
those who don't go to church because they have been judged by people in churches,
those who don't understand what all this fuss is about God.
And privileged are all the people who aren't American,
who come to this county legally or illegally,
those who could never even dream of coming here.
Because they are the senators and policymakers and secretaries in this other nation.

Privileged are those who are worn out from the weight of being a cog in the machine of industry,
working 9 to 5, or 6 to 8, or midnight to 6, or a rotating shift, never see the sun,
whose benefits don't cover their medical bills
whose bosses’ bosses’ bosses, people they’ve never met, made decisions to lay them off, and now they can’t feed their family.
And privileged are the people turned into a commodity by a depersonalizing and dehumanizing image-driven society,
the teenage girls who think they have to cut calories just so to stay thin,
men who buy magazines promising to teach them to lose a gut they will never lose,
reality show contestants wanting to be famous, because being famous means being loved,
prostitutes and johns,
everyone lonely or scared of being poor or addicted or lost.
Because in this nation,
they will be comforted and given a new life
they will get to start over fresh,
and start over again,
and start over again.

Privileged are the timid and the unstrong,
the bullied and the scared,
the impotent in a world of rampant false virility,
the ones who don’t test well,
the ones who never spoke up in class.
And privileged are those unwilling or unable to work,
the ones turned lazy by entertainment funneled down their throats
the ones who never learned to be motivated themselves.
Because they are the CEOs, and they will receive the bonuses at Christmas, and the options. Their parachutes are always golden.

Privileged are those who have only ever experienced pain and oppression,
those who see injustice around every corner,
on the way out of their bosses’ offices,
in their landlord’s notices,
from the fists of their fathers or pimps or lovers,
in the systems of the federal or state government
in the systems of charity that only helps those who can help themselves,
in the lack of any system at all to help them,
those who wish they could just stop hurting for one minute a day.
Because they will see the pain and the oppression and the injustice and especially the hurt
finally stop.
And as empty as the hurt ever was, they will be filled up and over.

Privileged are those who have the easy opportunity to take advantage of someone else,
to make money,
or take power
at the expense of those without it.
And instead choose to give of themselves
to cast aside their comfort,
to not fuel someone’s slavery for the own convenience
of cheaper shoes,
a bigger television,
a better vacation.
And privileged are those who were oppressed by others and forgave,
who should have risen up and fought,
who should have sued,
who were justified to kill the men who raped their daughters,
and hugged them instead.
Because they, in return,
will be let off the hook,
be found innocent in the court of law,
will go free.
They are free.

Privileged are those without eyes to see the complexities of world,
without the understanding to read the fine-print of a mortgage document,
without the vision to depersonalize someone else's body for their own pleasure,
those unfamiliar with sex in a culture that fetishizes it,
the ones who don’t get jokes,
the gullible who get socked in the arm for looking at nothing.
Because instead of all of that,
they see and understand God.

Privileged are those who reconcile
murderers and victims' families,
landmine planters and soldiers without legs,
rapists and rape-victims,
Democrats and Republicans,
Hutus and Tutsis,
the kid who lost his fingers with the person who bought the t-shirt the kid was enslaved to make.
And privileged are those who refuse to take up arms to defend themselves,
those who stand in the way of someone else's pain, making it their own,
those who have never hostilely taken over anything,
or ordered someone to do something just because they could.
Because they will be titled:
President-on-Duty, Commanders-in-Chief.

And so, you are privileged.
When people insult you,
spit on you,
exclude you,
blog about you unfavorably,
or say all kinds of evil against you,
change their Facebook status to slight you,
invade your homeland,
laugh you out of the forum,
mock you on the Daily Show,
Fox News, or 4chan,
because you recognize this other, better nation,
because you are not a patriot anymore,
your interests abroad are deeper than American ones,
when you sympathize with killers and terrorists,
when the decisions you make for this other nation
hurt the economy of America,
when you change your life for justice,
and this inconveniences others' safety and comfort,
and especially when you forgive these very people who insult you,
rejoice and be glad!
Buck up.
Throw a party.
Someone will always persecute prophets and
people who find a third way,
and you're there among them.
So, great is your reward in
The Republic of God,
the United States of Heaven,
the Commonweath of Jesus.
You are the senators and CEOs now,
landlords and bosses.
You are the free ones.
You get to start over,
start fresh.
And you will do all these things differently.
From below,
without power or the desire to control.

And, sometimes, you will give up even this privilege.
Because,
you see God.
You have seen God.
He is here.
He is in you.