Professional Documents
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Off The Top of My Head
Off The Top of My Head
of My Head
Stephen M. Lindo
He is real, I swear it
Trust that you are near it
Take your cross and bear it
Now you've got the spirit
The Garden of Eden
Nothing inspires me to create more than spending time in the Garden of
Eden. There used to be a tree in the midst of the garden – an almond tree
that we once called the Tree of Knowledge. But now that tree has been
cut down due to its obstruction of the view of the sea. The garden is on
the Caribbean Sea and although the sun beats mercilessly down on the
tender plants, a cool, salty sea breeze is its saving grace.
In addition to plants and trees, there are several animal species that may
be found foraging about the garden. Among the most common are the
hummingbird (which Jamaicans call Dr. Bird because it visits every
flower like a doctor making his rounds) and the ubiquitous land crabs
that stand guard at the mouths of their freshly-dug holes. You can eat
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them if you know how to catch them (and our gardener says that the best
way is to step on them while reaching down and grabbing them from
behind, avoiding their dangerously sharp pincers). Egrets follow cows
hoping to feed off the insects and worms that are attracted by their dung
and long-legged herons have also been seen. Pelicans hover over the
shallow reef that lies beyond the seawall and occasionally crash into the
water for a fish with a loud splash. They can stay underwater for a long
time, surfacing far from the place where they dove in.
Inspiration
Freedom goes where freedom wills;
Bondage binds where bondage kills.
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Sonny and the Big Boss
“Sonny! Where ya‟ been hiding?” said the Big Boss with a forced grin
on his face. Behind him was the doorway to his palatial estate on the
upper east side. The brisk autumn air and newly fallen leaves belied the
armed bodyguards and ever-present surveillance cameras, all of which
afforded the mafia kingpin the best peace of mind dirty money could
buy.
Sonny got out of his car and greeted his boss with the obligatory kiss on
the cheek.
“I ain‟t hiding no more,” he said. “I‟m born again.”
The Big Boss chuckled, “What‟re ya‟ tellin‟ me? Am I not paying you
enough?”
“I can‟t take it anymore!” Sonny charged. “I can‟t eat! I can‟t sleep! I
can‟t face myself in the mirror anymore knowing the horrible things I‟ve
done to undeserving people! I want out!”
“Okay, relax,” said the Big Boss in a soothing voice. “C‟mon inside. I‟ll
have the missus fix you drink.”
“I‟ll pass,” said Sonny coolly. He followed the Big Boss inside the
house, through the dining room, into the den, and then out to the
poolside patio. The two sat down on wicker chairs facing the heated
swimming pool.
“Listen to me. You‟ve done nothing wrong,” protested the Big Boss.
“You say you hurt undeserving people, but that‟s just not true.
Everybody I put a hit on – all of them – were no-good scum. You did
the world and everybody a huge favor by making examples out of
them!”
Sonny answered, “I used to think like that too, but now I know that
nobody deserves to get hurt in any way – no matter what they‟ve done!
And even if they truly did deserve to get hurt, God doesn‟t need me or
anyone to enforce his justice. Vengeance belongs to him and him
alone.”
“And that‟s where we come in!” fumed the Big Boss, “We are God‟s
angels of vengeance in the world! We are doing his will when we punish
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lowlifes and traitors and finks! And it sends a message to anybody else
who might try to act up!”
“But that‟s just it!” declared Sonny, “We‟re all finks! If it were up to us
to enforce vengeance, we would execute the world and then ourselves!
But since God has forgiven us, we should be angels of mercy, not
vengeance.”
Suddenly the door opened. It was the missus holding a drink in her
hand. “Not now!” snapped the Big Boss, a vein popping out of his
forehead. She slinked back into the house.
“You‟ve changed,” said the Big Boss with a snarl, “You forgot where
you came from. You forgot how this world mistreated you… told you
you were nothing. You were branded because of your looks and your
last name. They wanted to throw you away and now you‟re making
excuses for them, tellin‟ me that we‟re all like that! Well, we‟re not all
like that! And just because there‟s no perfect person, or because I‟m not
a perfect person, that doesn‟t equate me with them! I‟m not them!”
“I agree with you that the world we live in is cruel,” started Sonny, “But
if we repay evil for evil, then we‟re just like them! Don‟t you see? We
have a chance to end this war! They hit us so we hit them – we hit them
so they hit us – it doesn‟t end „til somebody decides to take the last hit!”
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“I‟m still loyal to you!”
“No you‟re not.” replied the Big Boss smugly.
“Yes I am!” Sonny shot back, “and I‟m more loyal to you now than I
ever was! Look at me! Before, I was loyal to you out of fear! But now,
I‟m loyal to you out of love! As I look at you, I see a man who has
become something he never wanted to be! You don‟t have to be this
way! You don‟t have to sleep with one eye open!”
The Big Boss couldn‟t believe what he was hearing. “Alright, Sonny,
tell me what you want.”
“I want you to let me go,” answered Sonny.
“And what‟re you gonna‟ do if I let you go?” asked the Big Boss. “Are
you gonna‟ get a 9 to 5? Are you gonna‟ pay your taxes and become a
law-abiding citizen? You‟ll just be exchanging one criminal gang for
another.”
A Rose Arose
A rose, I suppose,
grows and grows and grows and grows,
but no one knows why
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So off went the knight on a quest for his maiden
O‟er hill and valley upon a white steed.
And there did he survey the wizard‟s dark castle
Which rose from the spines of a perilous cliff.
Found he the lass in a high tower sealed.
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Now will I slay thee! howled the knight in his rage.
But the dragon entreated, Why doest so thus?
For to slay me in no wise shalt prove thyself fearless
As next to me stands yet another more fearsome.
Then him shall I slay! spaketh he with conviction.
But pleaded the dragon, Wherefore doest thou?
As there is not an end to the terrors of hell,
For hell is its terror: the dragon supplanting
That which ye hath conquered is ever more gruesome
„Til hell be confounded with dragons so fierce,
That nary a soul could ever requite it!
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The Price
Press
Reporters
Investigating
Corporate
Excesses
Peter
Righteously
Insisting
Christ
Existed
People‟s
Republic
Imprisoning
Chinese
Evangelists
Pastors
Reaching
Insightful
Conclusions
Eventually
Prosperity
Ruined
In
Christian
Endtimes
Pauline
Revision
Is
Circumcision‟s
Extinction
Play
Rewind
Insert
Copy
Eject
Please
Remember
It
Cannot
End
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The Axeman
“Why did you send out that memo!” shrieked the secretary.
“What memo?” her boss coolly inquired.
“The memo about the axeman who‟s coming to take away our jobs!”
“Oh, that memo!” the boss disingenuously recalled. “Well, as I
explained in the memo, our board of directors has decided that in order
to increase productivity and maximize profits, downsizing measures
need to be implemented.”
“Maximize profits for who?” the secretary shot back. “The purpose of
Management should be to help employees reap the rewards of their
labor, not to maximize profits for shareholders at the expense of
workers.”
The boss could only laugh, “It‟s out of my hands. Like I said, this
decision was made at the top. There‟s nothing I can do.”
“Of course there‟s something you can do!” the secretary chided. “You
can call the chairman and explain why they should reverse their
decision!”
“Now why would I do that?” scoffed the boss. “It‟s their show, honey –
I‟m just the executive.”
The secretary winced, “No, you have obligation to fight for your
employees just as we sacrifice for you.”
“And I appreciate the sacrifice!” grinned the boss in feigned offence.
“But sometimes, we‟ve got to bite the bullet for the sake of investors in
order to raise the capital necessary to hire even more workers! That‟s
how wealth is created!”
“No,” glinted the secretary. “It‟s not about making tough decisions, it‟s
about making wise decisions. Let‟s say you decimate the ranks and the
investors swoon. A couple of cycles later, you hire us all back, but we
don‟t feel as secure as we once did – we‟re not as loyal as we once were.
But what these board members don‟t understand is that it‟s loyalty, not
strategy, that‟s driving our economy. And there‟s no computer model
for „good will‟ in a world as interdependent as ours is.”
The boss tilted his head forward so as to look at her above the rim of his
eyeglasses, “You know, it‟s hardly likely that you‟ll be one of the ones
laid off.”
“You don‟t get it!” the secretary reluctantly pleaded. “It‟s not about me.
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No worker works for themselves. They work for their families, friends
and neighbors. The invisible hand that guides the free market system is
not mutual self-interest, but individual self-sacrifice.”
“Perhaps,” shrugged the boss. “But my hands are tied. If I challenge the
chairman‟s decisions too much, I might find myself in the
unemployment line.”
“It‟s your job to be assertive!” snapped the secretary. “But if
shareholders wanted a CEO with no spine, then they may as well of
hired SpongeBob SquarePants!”
“Okay,” grumbled the boss. “And SpongeBob would still hire the
downsizing consultant...”
“You mean the axeman.”
“Alright,” the boss groaned. “But just so you know, my spine is not
sponge. I‟ve the backbone of a soldier, and a true soldier does what he‟s
told without question. That‟s why I am where I am.”
“There‟s nothing wrong with soldiering,” answered the secretary. “As
long as you‟re on the winning side.”
“And what side would that be?”
The boss lighted off his leatherette swivel chair and firmly gripped the
consultant‟s hand, “Is this the cost-benefit analysis?”
The axeman handed him the file. “After careful review of the balance
sheets, I believe I‟ve found the best restructuring model which, given
current market trends, should maximize revenue and profitability for our
shareholders.”
“Great!” the boss smiled. “So how deep are the cuts going to be?”
“Cuts?”
“Yeah, job cuts!”
“Okay. Let‟s sit down and discuss this,” invited the axeman, but the
boss could barely stay in his chair (he was so filled with anticipation).
“We‟re shutting down the entire plant and moving it to Guadalajara.”
“What?!”
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“Not anymore,” the axeman uttered. “According to subparagraph 51.3c,
the corporation reserves the right to terminate its CEO in the event of a
facility relocation.”
“That‟s it?! After all the years I worked for this firm, this is how you
reward loyalty?!”
“On the corporate battlefield, it‟s the loyal soldiers who perish first.”
Lady in Waiting
There once was a lord who lived in great castle and had dominion over
many towns. He was a steward of the king‟s wealth and had charge over
all the affairs of his reign. He opened doors and shut them, prosecuted
wars and sued for peace. Nonetheless, he was not able to attain to the
throne since in order to do so, he was required to marry a woman of
royal lineage. Therefore, he issued a decree in all the land that should
any willing princess from any kingdom become his bride, he would
make her his queen.
There came two women from afar, one a goodly princess and the other a
wretched handmaiden. While the princess wore a purple gown bedecked
with jewels and crowned with rubies, the handmaiden instead wore rude
apparel and tattered garments, barely concealing her uncouth wooden
shoes.
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Now when everyone in the land had heard of the handmaiden‟s great
faith and courage, they preferred her over the goodly princess and
petitioned the lord to marry her instead, thus forsaking the crown.
(But the lord preferred the throne to the people, and thus devised a plot
to invalidate the handmaiden‟s faith, allowing him to ascend to power
with the support of the people.)
The lord thought for a moment, then said, “Tell me a story I‟ve never
heard before.”
The handmaiden applauded his request, then began:
There was once a woman who married a farmer. She loved him very
much and gave him a son, but when he saw how much she loved the
child, he became exceedingly jealous and sent the child away. Then the
woman asked her husband, „Why did you send the child away?‟ to which
the farmer responded, „I sent him away in order so that you would love
me.‟ But the woman said to her husband, „I have always loved you and
always will I ever!‟ When the farmer knew that his wife had forgiven
him for sending the child away, his heart sank. Thus did he repent of his
jealousy and not long after, she gave him yet another son, and they
named him after the first.
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“A song that neither I nor anyone has ever heard.”
“Very well,” answered the handmaiden.
So the lord called for his musicians, the lutist and the piper, and as they
began to play, she began to sing:
“Tell me,” spake the lord, “can you turn straw into gold?”
“Yes, I can.”
So the lord sent for his alchemists, with their flasks and utensils, and
ceiled her in an apothecary for one hour. And there she stood, the
strands of straw protruding from her delicate grip.
“Turn this straw into gold,” he ordered as the door closed.
. . . . . . .
When finally the time had elapsed, the door to the apothecary was
opened. The entire court stared into the chamber, not knowing what to
expect. Some thought her a witch, others a saint. But when the damsel
emerged, she still had in her hand, the very same straw she had been
given at the first.
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The lord was elated with the outcome he had designed, having been
released from his earthly obligation, he rebuked her quickly, “Now you
have not obeyed me. Neither have you rendered me gold for the straw
that I gave you!”
“No, I have not,” the handmaiden responded. “But that is because you
are not able to receive it.”
“And how am I not able to receive it?” he scoffed.
“Because only a king can receive my gold. And you are no king.”
Now was the lord outraged at the handmaiden, “Make me king then!
Make me king and give me my gold, you stupid wench!”
But the handmaiden stared askance, “No man‟s blood is more pure than
mine. But if you want to become a king, you must either be born a king,
or marry into it.”
“Then that is what I‟ll do!” chided the lord as he summoned for his
guards to escort the young lady from his sight, never to be heard from
again.
. . . . . . .
So the lord married the goodly princess instead and was crowned king in
every province. But all was not well in the land, for the princess whom
he had married (and who had now become queen), was unable to give
him a royal heir, provoking his enemies to plot against him. The
astrologers and soothsayers also warned that they would not wait for his
demise before exploiting this weakness.
So the king called for his queen, saying, “Give me a son, lest I die,”
“I cannot obey you,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I do not love you.”
“Why do you not love me?”
“Because you married me for power and not love,” she answered,
“Therefore, you shall have neither.”
Then did the king understand that without the queen‟s love, he would
not only lose his kingdom, but quite possibly his life.
“How then can I love you?” he pleaded.
“To love is to obey the son of man.”
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Then did the king remember the saying of the handmaiden whom he had
banished, and repented of his error. He learned that true love is worth
more than all the world‟s wealth.
“Ask of me what you will,” he said to his wife, “and whatsoever you
ask, I will give it no matter what it is – even my entire kingdom; even
my own life.”
The queen answered without hesitation, “Give me a son. For once your
heart was straw, but now is it pure gold!”
And the two lived happily ever after in a kingdom built on love and
undying hope.
Trelawny Triptych
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon in Trelawny Parish, Jamaica. But that
didn‟t stop the faithful of that community from assembling in the
sanctuary of the Church of St. Peter the Apostle. There were no empty
pews as the Pastor delivered his rousing sermon, and as he expounded
on the mystical transformation of the Eucharistic Elements into the
Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, flashes of lightning lit up the stained-
glass windows closely followed by loud bursts of thunder as if God
Himself were lending commentary. The rain beat furiously against the
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windows, conjuring images of the great flood that purged the old world
of all but eight souls. Flowers, which had sprung up around the
gravestones of the churchyard, were nourished by the incessant
downpour. As the rain brought the flowers, so too would the flowers
bring goats once the storm had subsided. The women of the
congregation fanned themselves with church bulletins, their ornate hats
and bandanas providing the necessary “covering” without which it
would be a shame for them to prophesy. The men wore suits and ties,
their jackets flaunting the hot autumn air. Everywhere, people‟s souls
were stirred by the passionate preaching, leaving no doubt that the Spirit
of their God was present among them.
The church was built out of solid rock and stood for centuries in the
bustling community of Falmouth. Her walls had withstood pirate
attacks, slave uprisings, fires, and hurricanes. She had witnessed the
abolition of slavery and the transition to Independence. She had
remained Anglican from her founding. She possessed one of the few
working pipe organs in the Caribbean. Hymns were played by ear and
sung from memory. The church had a clock tower that had long ceased
to work. A narrow wooden staircase inside the tower led to the place
where the bell ringer would pull the frayed ropes which sounded the
church bells, announcing the start of Sunday Worship.
On the opposite end of the graveyard stood the church hall. It was a
newer building and was primarily used as a meeting and recreational
facility. The Anglican Youth Fellowship would meet there, its teenaged
officers recording the minutes and collecting dues. The church hall also
hosted dance parties and carnivals, all of which attracted non-Anglicans
to the church and gave members of different denominations an
opportunity to socialize. The annual Easter Prayer Breakfast was held
there to raise money for the church. Pre-purchased tickets could be
exchanged for a real traditional Jamaican breakfast including ackee and
salt-fish, callaloo, yam and dumplings, and for dessert, slices of pau-pau
and watermelon. Money raised from the ticket sales would go toward
the “Kitchen of Love” ministry that fed indigents in the community.
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A Bat Without a Cave
How doth the little cave bat fly?
With either ear, but not one eye.
Within the cave, we hear its cry.
Upon the cave wall, it doth rely.
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The Great Fish
Deep in the Montana woods lies Lake Serenity. It is a haven for
fishermen due to its crisp, clean air and clear waters. There, a fisherman
sits in a rowboat with his son. He baits his hook and casts in his line.
The line sinks beneath the cool, still waters and finds its depth among
the many fishes that inhabit the lake. Some of the fish nibble at the bait.
Others do not.
One fish, whose name was Barney Bass, watched as the other fish took
turns nibbling at the bait. He was tempted to nibble himself, but was
unsure as he noticed that there were many fish who chose not to nibble.
“Why was this?” he asked.
Then came a fish choosing not to nibble whose name was Salmon Peter.
He explained that the reason why certain of the fish abstained from
nibbling the bait was because of the Great Fish who told them not to.
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Other fishes followed the first fish
And soon, all of the fishes were nibbling the bait.
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Many fishes believed him at his word
and abstained from eating the bait.
Other fishes believed only after seeing his wounds.
Still others choose not to believe him
although they had both heard his word
and seen his wounds.
They had been previously lied to by other fishes
and so accused him of lying also.
Barney Bass heard the Epic that Salmon Peter had recited and believed
him. He swore that as long as he lived, he would never nibble the bait or
tell a lie.
Then along came a slippery fish whose name was the Doubting Trout.
He did not believe the Epic of the Great Fish and was offended at
Barney Bass‟s faith.
“Why do you believe the Epic of the Great Fish while other epics differ
from it?” asked the Doubting Trout.
Barney Bass answered, “I believe the Epic because the Author of the
Epic says that lying causes others to die. Therefore, if the Author lies, he
will be responsible for the deaths of others according to his own
confession. Many other fishes have testified to the Truth of the Epic of
the Great Fish. Some have even claimed to have been taken up into
boats and escaped or were thrown back. Also, it is right to obey the
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word of Salmon Peter because he is the only fish who says that lying
causes other fish to die.”
The Doubting Trout answered, “But there have been many fishes who
claimed to have been taken up above the water and came back with a
different account of what is up there. They say there is no danger or
death.”
Barney Bass answered and said, “There is always the danger of death
whenever someone else has you on their hook.”
The Doubting Trout replied, “There is no way to verify the truth of the
Epic. It was written so long ago and now times have changed.”
Barney Bass responded, “It is true that we live in different times, but the
principles and values that are preached by the Great Fish are timeless.”
Then the Doubting Trout took great offence, “Some fish say they are
naturally drawn to the bait. It is unkind to tell these fish to disobey their
own natural inclinations.”
“I feel sorry for you,” said the Doubting Trout finally. “You will not
nibble the bait with us and will therefore be deprived of the experience.”
With that, the Doubting Trout left Barney Bass and began to nibble the
bait. He saw other fishes being dragged up above the top of the water
but gave it no thought.
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Then one day, as he carelessly nibbled, the Doubting Trout felt a
stinging in his jaws. He was hooked and could not break free. He tugged
and tugged but the more he pulled at the line, the quicker he was reeled
up to the surface. As soon as he was angled above the water‟s surface,
he found himself unable to breath. He was in dry air – just as the Epic
had said. He then felt the hand of a child grab him. It was the
fisherman‟s son. “Can we keep him?” he said to his father.
Love Can
Love can cause the blind to see;
Love can cause the rose to bloom;
Love can cause the world to be;
Love can leave an empty tomb.
Pray-cation
Jamaica is internationally recognized for its golf courses, white-sand
beaches, musical heritage and exceptional hospitality. But while many
visitors to our island prefer to bask in the sun, sand and surf, others see
their vacations as opportunities to minister to the gospel. Many tourists
living abroad belong to congregations that have sister churches here.
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Others come to establish new churches or engage in charitable activities.
Today, Christianity has a prominent role in Jamaican cultural and
political life. If you are seeking a different tourist experience, one that
ventures beyond the conspicuous meccas of the all-inclusive enclave,
then I would certainly recommend a visit to any one of our great and
historic local parish churches.
In the town of Falmouth, the Trelawny Parish Church of St. Peter the
Apostle stands as a living monument to the supremacy of Anglicanism
in Jamaican culture. Its stone masonry portrays the understated grandeur
of Georgian architecture while rendering a striking allusion to the rock
on which our LORD‟s Church was built. Its arched wooden doorway
first welcomed celebrants decades before the abolition of slavery and
was a part of the original town charter officially authorized, recognized
and patronized by the government of Jamaica and its Monarch.
Today, St. Peter‟s is known for its majestic clock tower, which also
serves as a belfry and while the clock only gives the correct time twice
daily, the soft pealing of its old iron bell can often be heard on Sunday
mornings, beckoning the entire community to worship.
The gravestones of St. Peter‟s record both the names and lifespans of
more than a few dignitaries and luminaries dating back to the colonial
era. A substantial number of child graves testify to the untimeliness of
death in a world without vaccination. Once, these memorials were
decorated with flowers and lamented by devotees, but nowadays, they
serve as ever-present sentinels, warning all trespassers of the fate that
awaits them should they stray from the narrow path.
St. Peter‟s boasts one of the oldest working pipe organs in the
Caribbean. Early in the 20th century, an electrical motor was added to its
bellows eliminating the need for a human blower. Beyond this, however,
there is no electrical alteration or amplification of the organ sound. It‟s
large brass pipes, which tower above the congregation, resonate with the
vibrant harmonies and embellished descants commensurate with the
mostly self-taught musicians who grace its console. The choir too does
not read music, but instead memorizes every melody while following
along in the words-only edition of the Anglican hymnal.
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It is a cultural tradition in Jamaica for men to wear suits and ties and for
the women to wear long dresses, hats and even gloves on a Sunday
morning service despite the searing heat and lack of air-conditioning.
Some poorer Jamaicans use this tacit dress code as impetus to shirk their
spiritual duty, though many others are welcomed into the congregation
in t-shirts and tennis shoes.
Sandals, Half Moon, and the Ritz Carlton are three prestigious resorts
that can arrange bus tours to the historic town of Falmouth and transport
guests to and from St. Peter‟s. Doubtless your concierge would be more
than happy to assist you in learning more about Jamaica‟s great
churches and island culture. Until then, I wish you all the best and, as
we say here in Jamaica, Likkle more!
Lady of Lanzhou
There‟s a village in the east
(like a box within a box)
Where the people keep the feast
of the New Year of the ox.
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There‟s a lady in Lanzhou
(whiter as a porcelain doll).
Maybe she can show me how
I might hear the tiger's call.
Thai-dye
Little Tukta from Siam
(Not as lucky as I am).
Will she go to London town
In a graduation gown?
Does the British consulate
Even have her passport yet?
Little Tukta, can‟t you see?
It‟s an opportunity
To forgive your enemy
(Impudent bureaucracy).
When we learn to look within,
All we find is death and sin;
When we learn to look without,
Jesus takes away our doubt.
Now that you are on your way,
I have only this to say:
Never leave the God you know
When you touch down in Heathrow!^^
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Fortune Cookie Wisdom
(Wise man say, „You are one tough cookie!‟)
A fool is perverted;
A wise man is converted.
A fool is needy;
A double fool is greedy;
A wise man is ready.
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A fool goes into debt;
A double fool pays it off;
A wise man declares bankruptcy.
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Holding On
One hand extended
Reaching out
To the one I befriended
Before it all ended
Hold on
Holding one
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The LORD‟s Day
In the country, Anglican Priests were scarce. Because of this, Father
John pastored three churches. First, he pastored the Holy Trinity Church
at Bloomfield. Then, he rode on horseback to Christ Church in
Rockford. He completed his circuit at St. Michael‟s Church in Davey.
The Right Reverend was a faithful administrator of the Holy Sacraments
in the Anglican Tradition. He was also a devoted husband to his wife of
many years and a father of two small children (my sister and myself).
“I await your return,” answered Whinny. “And my spirit prays that your
ministry will prosper and your labours yield an harvest much abounding
and beyond your knowing.”
With that, Father John mounted his horse and rode toward Bloomfield.
The trail wound its way through the woods and paralleled a nearby
brook. Sunbeams peered through the maple leaves as they undulated in
the cool autumn zephyr.
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
“Please tell me what is troubling you,” asked the Priest. “And let me
know if there‟s anything I can do to help.”
“I want you to pray for me,” she started. “I have a disease to which there
appears to be no cure. I am baptized in Christ for seven years now and
have sought the LORD in all areas of my life. However, it seems that
the more pure I become, the greater my sin is revealed to me.”
Father John understood what she was experiencing and beseeched the
Spirit for the right words of comfort. “Jesus gives us a parable in
Matthew chapter twelve in which a clean house attracts devils because
of its emptiness,” he began in a stern but loving voice. “Obedience to
the Law is like having a clean house; but without love, the house is
empty. All who love God will obey him; but not all who obey God love
him.”
“I want to love Jesus!” declared Lady P.
“Then do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
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. . . . . . .
The town of Davey was even more sparsely populated than the other
towns, but this only added to the spirit of community. St. Michael‟s
Chapel stood on the edge of a glistening field of wheat for as long as
anyone could remember, its liturgy frequently punctuated by the cows
mooing and cocks crowing, which no one seemed to mind. Afterward,
Father John paid his usual visit to the Bartley Manor with the intent to
administer the Sacrament to its bedridden proprietor.
“Good day, Mr. Bartley,” grinned the pastor. But as his communicant
strained to look at him, his stare became ever more distant.
“As always, I appreciate this weekly visit, but today will the last.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I am old and my heartbeat is increasingly uneven. I feel as
though I were slipping away and it is well with me.”
“No you‟re not,” the pastor contended. “I‟ve known elders whose hearts
were convicted with the promise of the resurrection. Theirs is the look
of victory; but in you, I see only defeat and false resignation.”
“Go away, pastor. Can‟t you see I‟m ill?”
“I can‟t do that,” Father John persisted. “You‟re not ill, but if you were,
your only illness would be that you are too well. You‟ve become
comfortable in your fear and sickness; and now you fear dying so much
that you would wish for it if only to dispel it.”
Mr. Bartley twisted in his bed. “If you won‟t leave me be, then at least
tell me what heaven will be like so that I might have some hope in it.”
“Okay,” smiled the pastor. “How about I tell you next week?”
. . . . . . .
As the sun set over the mountains, the clip-clop of horseshoes on gravel
was heard outside of the rectory. My sister and I ran outside to meet him
as Whinny stood waiting on the old hickory landing.
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Whinny never asked how his day went – the fact that he arrived seemed
to settle that question. But there was a certain homecoming ritual that
both engaged in before anything else was spoken. First, Father John
would dust off his shoes, remove his hat and say, “How wonderful it is
to find you here waiting for me after so long a sojourn.”
“I don‟t know which is greater,” she added. “The faith of the woman
who waits or the man who returns.” Thus went the dispassionate
responsorial that marked the end of yet another LORD‟s day.
On the Bottle
I found a message in a bottle;
It said, Bottle.
I opened my Bible in the Spirit;
It said, Spirit.
Does that mean I found a message in a bottle?
or a bottle in a message?
If you say, The bottle is in the message only,
then you blaspheme the bottle.
If you say, The Spirit is in the Bible only,
then you blaspheme the Spirit.
Later, I picked up the bottle
and on it was written: 100-proof spirit.
Sky High
The sky's the limit
But without the earth beneath
There would be no sky
34 | P a g e
Greta und die Gestapo
Knock knock knock... (Die doore opendt.)
35 | P a g e
(Greta lookt ahn der Nazi wiht despaire. Shie hadt geställedt ihm as
müche ahs shie couldt!) “Alreit! Alreit! I wille göe und bringen auf die
Jüden. Waite hier...” Der doore clöest und die Nazi waitet outeside.
Greta walkdt outeside und shütten sie doore behindt ehr. “Hier am I!”
shie gesagt.
“Yeu?!” shoutted der Nazi. “Yeu art nicht einen Jüden?!”
“Ja, Ich bin nicht,” Greta whisperin. “Bütte meine Saviuer ist, und ihs
blüd eis withinen mie.”
Style Matters
Style over substance?
But in the world we live in,
it's both that matter.
36 | P a g e
Imagine I'm an Enigma
Imagine I'm an enigma ...... A misunderstood mister who dissed his
sister (but now, how much I‟ve missed her) ...... A man who once
prayed to someday repay the one whom he depraved (but now, it‟s too
late) ...... The one who bravely paved the way for him to say, “My soul
is saved” ...... The one and only Son who came to make a way for
everyone (and now it‟s done) ...... The one who gave his all to call a
saint whose name was Saul (but now it‟s Paul, y‟all) ...... The one who
(by his stripes) restored the blind man‟s sight forevermore (Praise ye the
LORD) ...... But as for me and my house? ...... I am the charismatic-
addict praisin‟ Jesus all diseases have been cured (Word is born) ......
When I died...
When I awoke, I found myself on a plain. Rising to my feet, I turned
and saw the contemplative Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree.
Why do you suffer? – asked the Buddha – You suffer because you live
and you live because you die. Life is Death and Death is Life. It is an
endless cycle of life, death and rebirth. The way to end suffering is
through breaking the cycle of life, death and rebirth. And once this cycle
is broken, Enlightenment is achieved. The place of Enlightenment is
Nirvana. Your soul cannot enter Nirvana without first achieving
Enlightenment which is best accomplished through the technique and
discipline of meditation.
37 | P a g e
I answered the Buddha and said – People don‟t suffer because they live,
they suffer because they sin. Death is not necessary for life, only the
Word of God is. Life cannot be an endless cycle of life, death and
rebirth because death is final or else it is not death. The way to end
suffering is to suffer for it completely which the Son of God already did
for us. Enlightenment is not the blissful realization that Life is Death
and Death is Life (as you falsely assert), but rather, it is the faith of a
loving God who suffers and dies as a propitiation for mankind‟s sin.
This is the true „Nirvana‟ and the true Incarnation of the Buddha‟s
aspiration.
Why do you suffer? – asked Vishnu – You suffer because you violate the
Dharma which are holy rules for living. As a result, you have
established negative Karma. Karma is a divine system of justice wherein
all actions (whether positive or negative) are recompensed to the
individual. Therefore, I (Vishnu) am the divine arbiter and dispenser of
justice. Follow me if you want to receive a positive Karma.
I answered Vishnu and said – You are right to say that I have violated a
holy standard of living. As a result of my transgression, I am deserving
of divine recompense and am under the literal curse of the Old
Testament. However, God‟s judgment and wrath was assuaged by the
righteous judgment of his Son on the cross we deserved.
38 | P a g e
Then said I to Vishnu – Many Christians have indeed suffered and died
since the time of Christ. However, this is not due to the judgment of
God. To ask why Christians suffer is like asking why God permits us to
remain in this world after converting. Our ministry is to lead others to
Christ, and during the course of this blessed ministry, we may at times
avail ourselves to martyrdom and persecution (though the miraculous
gift of the Spirit has equipped us for it). Nevertheless, in Paradise, we
will be healed of every hardship endured for the service of the gospel.
Peace be unto you – said Muhammad – God is One. The first of the Ten
Commandments says not to worship any god besides the one true God.
Why do the People of the Book believe that God is a Trinity when the
prophet Jesus (peace be unto him) never mentioned a trinity in any of
the gospels? Also, the prophet Jesus (peace be unto him) said „My
Father is greater than I‟.
39 | P a g e
There is no variance between Christ and his apostles – I answered – But
when Christ was crucified, the veil of the temple was rent in twain,
restoring the relationship between man and God premised upon a desire
to obey rather than actual obedience. But the right to be forgiven is by
no means a right to transgress. Otherwise, we blaspheme the Holy
Ghost.
Muhammad persisted – The People of the Book say that Jesus (peace be
unto him) died for their sins, but this is not true. Allah made Judas to
look like Jesus (peace be unto him) so that he would be crucified instead
of Jesus. That‟s why Judas cried out to Allah saying, „Why have you
forsaken me‟.
Thus saith Lucifer – I believe in God the Father and in his Son Jesus
Christ who died for the sins of the world. However, I reject this god
because he is evil. He formed me and made me sin in order to fulfill his
purpose of saving man. He predestined me to sin in order so that I
would glorify him to his followers.
I answered Lucifer and said – God does not make anybody sin. Neither
does evil glorify God. However, once sin had entered into his creation,
God entered into his creation in order to preserve it from the sin of
Adam, subjecting his flesh to the scourge of Original Sin for the sake of
the elect.
40 | P a g e
Lucifer persisted – Jesus said his words would judge you. The Word of
God says that God hardened Pharaoh‟s heart in the story of the Exodus,
causing him not to let the people go before killing all of Egypt‟s
firstborn. God also says „Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated.‟ In
Isaiah, God says „I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace,
and create evil: I the LORD do all these things.‟ The Israelites
exterminated the Canaanites (women, children and cattle included) and
they did so by the commandment of God and the Ark as their battle
standard. Clearly, the Christian God is evil and the author of it.
I answered Lucifer and said – God does say that he created evil, hated
Esau, and hardened Pharaoh‟s heart. Many times in Scripture, God
speaks corporately on behalf of an Ultimate Reality which is inclusive of
both good and evil. The Pharisees also accused Christ of casting out
devils by the power of Beelzebub, but Christ avers that a house divided
cannot stand. Reality has become corrupt by mankind‟s sin, but the one
who gave birth to it is Immaculate.
Grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God,
and of Jesus our Lord – St. Peter said. And that was when I realized that
the more I knew, the less I had to say.
The Desert
I drilled for oil. But in order to get to the oil, I first had to cross a
desert. Once I had crossed the desert, I had to penetrate it. I had to
bring what was underneath the desert up to the surface. There are winds
in the desert, and mirages. It is easy to become lost.
It was then that the cabin door flung open revealing a drenched friar,
clutching a coral Rosary against his chest. But the captain remained
obstinate – ¿What do you want?
The friar grunted – The waves are getting very high now and the
crewmen believe that in order for us to remain afloat, we must jettison
some of the cargo.
¡Por qué! – the captain winced. ¡I‟m too old to make another voyage
to Cartagena! ¡I won‟t return without my investment!
42 | P a g e
Well then you won‟t return. – surmised the friar.
¿What do you mean by that?
But the friar persisted – What I mean is that your obsession with
wealth is corrupting your judgment and endangering your crew.
¿My judgment? – howled the captain – ¿Are you questioning my
judgment?
The first mate started for the door. ¡No, stay! – the captain ordered as
he then turned to the friar – Tell me about my judgment...
But the friar held his peace, and his peace remembered:
It remembered the sights and sounds of a scattered crew on a battered
deck;
The decision to sail in August against the advice of the navigator;
The Inca slaves on the coffee plantation;
Above them flies the fortification;
Turrets with their soldiers stationed;
Smelted fetishes, murdered shaman;
Temple cities left abandoned;
Catholics serving God and mammon.
. . . . . . .
43 | P a g e
Above the chatter of the bustling barroom, rose an American accent,
loud and obnoxious as the Hawaiian shirt and neon-green swimming
trunks worn by its owner. Of course, Hawaiian culture is quite similar to
that of Jamaica (if only for the Bob Marley T-shirts which I‟m sure are
being sold in every Waikiki gift shop!)
And this one, I got from a dive off the coast o‟Antigua, – he bragged,
flashing his trusty (albeit rusty) Spanish doubloon before the
supposedly-disinterested bar attendant (who, unbeknownst to him, never
passed her bar exam!)
„Dat is reel good! – she smiled in her patent patios – But I cyan‟t
figgah out why yuh gaan into treasuh hunting – „dat is serious bizness!
Yah‟mon... Whatteva mek yuh feel nice... – the hostess grinned as she
opened her patron‟s Red Stripe with a machete.
But the American shrugged – Maybe so, maybe no... y‟see, there‟s this
one treasure that always seems to elude me – a Spanish bark that went
down in a hurricane way back in the late 1500s... went by th‟name o‟the
San Clementy – yep, and according to its manifest, it‟d be one o‟the
most expensive finds hands down!... that is, of course, if anyone could
find it...
So why nat you? – the hostess teased.
You kiddin‟ me? – the American scoffed – O boy!, you Jamaicans!...
been eatin‟ too much o‟that there jerk sauce!... but I tell you what, If I
do find the San Clementy, I‟ll give you this restaurant as a tip „cuz that
ship‟s probbly worth half a‟billion easy – and that‟s „billion‟ with a „B‟!
Buenas, – pierced a tinny Hispanic accent – I cud not help
overhearing jou speek uf de San Clemente. Pearhaps I can be uf
searvice...
44 | P a g e
The American turned to find what looked like an elderly man –
(Cuban perhaps?) – redfaced and steely-eyed, cigar tips protruding from
the pockets of his unbuttoned khaki bush-jacket. Welcome to di Jolly
Rojuh! – greeted the hostess.
. . . . . . .
The Cuban reached into one of his pockets and produced a coral
Rosary.
Whatta ting dat! – ridiculed the Jamaican – Mi tink mi saw „dat saame
ting in di giff shop „crass di street!
Pearhaps... – enticed the Cuban.
But the American tried to put his story to the test – Okay, Señor...
then how come you ain‟t livin‟ out on Star Island?... That‟s where I‟d be
if I found th‟San Clementy!
Nuh pay‟im nuh‟mind, mista! – the Jamaican smarted – Him juss wann
fi someone to invest!...
But the Cuban disarmed her – I am not eeehh... a scammer, nó?... I
hab de coordinates to where jou can find de San Clemente, if you want I
show you...
In exchange for what? – the American pressed.
Nó, no exyange, my fren... I yus wanna-help somebady, jou know?...
45 | P a g e
But the American remained skeptically amused – Alright then, what‟re
the coordinates?
Hol‟on... – the Cuban back-peddled – Férst, tell me why jou wanna
know...
Why I wanna know? Why wouldn‟t I wanna know? That‟s a heap
o‟money just sittin‟ down there at the bottom o‟the ocean!
Oyea, my fren, bot tell me... Whatta jou gonna do wid‟all dat
money?... An‟ be careful how jou answer, my fren... „cus jour answer
will detérmine whether or nó I give jou de coordinates...
Why yuh bodda listen to‟dis man? – the Jamaican smarted – him
definettly afta sumting fi true...
. . . . . . .
46 | P a g e
. . . . . . .
The Cuban put the coral Rosary back into his shirt pocket and turned
to leave.
Wait! – cajoled the American – Let‟s say you‟re right and that you do
know how t‟git to th‟San Clementy... If you‟re sworn not t‟reveal its
location, then why would you tell me?
But the Jamaican rolled her eyes in disdain.
Well I war prepared to keppit a secret „til my dying déy, but jou know
what? – the Cuban answered – De captan, eeeeh... (how-do-jou-say?)...
bitt me to it!...
Wot yuh tellin me? – the Jamaican wheezed – Yuh meen to seh dat
juss cause de captin fi dead, yuh nuh longa hafta obey him?
¡Claro! – the Cuban smiled, forgetting (as he often did) that he was
not in a Spanish-speaking country.
Okay, – the American reluctantly conceded – I‟m not sure I‟m buyin‟
all this, but... let‟s just say that if I had that money, I‟d buy me a house
on Star Island and live it up!
An‟ don‟ feget to invite me! – added the Jamaican half-jokingly.
But the Cuban was unconvinced – Alright... bot why jou wha‟to live en
Star Island?
„Cuz that‟s where th‟rich people live! – the American answered.
Wha‟you minn by „rich‟?
Well, uhhh...
He‟mean dem hav money, mon! – surmised the Jamaican – Dem cyan
do watteva dem wann fi do! an‟ nuh haffi worry „bout when dem nex
paycheck goine com‟in, yu‟undastann?
Ahhh... – the Cuban understood – I see... bot rich pipple, de hab
worries too, nó?
Some of‟em! – the American reckoned.
Right, so jou see my fren, money es nó de answer to ev‟rythíng...
A‟true dat! – the Jamaican relented as the American appeared to nod
in agreement.
. . . . . . .
47 | P a g e
Well I tell you what, you show me how‟ta get to th‟San Clementy, and
I‟ll split it with you fifty-fifty! – the American haggled.
For wha‟? – asked the Cuban – Jou know if I wan‟ de money, I go
gettit myself, no prollem...
So then why don‟t you?
Issimple, mang, I don‟need de money...
Wot! – gasped the Jamaican – Yuh muss be indipendantly wealty!...
The Cuban laughed as she continued to marvel...
How yuh neva tell me dat yuh rich so!
But the American was all the more determined to figure him out –
Well then if you don‟t need th‟money, how „bout I just give yer fifty to
charity!
But the Cuban reached once again into his pocket and brandished the
coral Rosary. Ahhh... give to de poor! – he ruminated as the tiny gold
crucifix dangled from the glistening beads – and for why would you do
this, Papíto?
The American said nothing as the hostess disappeared into the kitchen.
What a conundrum? If he said he would give to the poor in order to
attain something for himself, he would be unworthy of that which he
had hoped to attain (and thus would not receive it); but if he confessed
his unworthiness in order to give to the poor altruistically, then that
which he had hoped to attain from the wreck of the San Clemente would
no longer be his, but instead would belong to the poor whom he himself
would undoubtedly join.
But as for the Cuban (assuming he even was a Cuban), he left the Jolly
Roger Social Club with his secret as yet untold, praising the LORD and
still clutching his treasured coral Rosary against his chest. But before he
exited, he turned once again to the frustrated man at the bar.
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