The Sassistas!TM would like to acknowledge and thank half-a-sista who dished today's follow-up sass to an earlier post of a poem that aroused a lot of conflicting sass in the sassosphere:
At the Arraignment
The courtroom walls are bare and the prisoner wears
a plastic bracelet, like in a hospital. Jesus stands beside him.
The bailiff hands the prisoner a clipboard and he puts his
thumbprint on the sheet of white paper. The judge asks,
What is your monthly income? A hundred dollars.
How do you support yourself? As a carpenter, odd jobs.
Where are you living? My friend’s garage.
What sort of vehicle do you drive? I take the bus.
How do you plead? Not guilty. The judge sets bail
and a date for the prisoner’s trial, calls for the interpreter
so he may speak to the next prisoners.
In a good month I eat, the third one tells him.
In a bad month I break the law.
The judge sighs. The prisoners
are led back to jail with a clink of chains.
Jesus goes with them. More prisoners
are brought before the judge.
Jesus returns and leans against the wall near us,
gazing around the courtroom. The interpreter reads a book.
The bailiff, weighed down by his gun, stands
with arms folded, alert and watchful.
We are only spectators, careful to speak
in low voices. We are so many. If we make a sound,
the bailiff turns toward us, looking stern.
The judge sets bail and dates for other trials,
bringing his gavel down like a little axe.
Jesus turns to us. If you won’t help them, he says
then do this for me. Dress in silks and jewels,
and then go naked. Be stoic, and then be prodigal.
Lead exemplary lives, then go down into prison
and be bound in chains. Which of us has never broken a law?
I died for you -- a desperate extravagance, even for me.
If you can’t be merciful, at least be bold.
The judge gets up to leave.
The stern bailiff cries, All rise.
This poem infuriated me. I read it at least ten times and each time I came away angry at the image of a holier-than-thou Jesus who asked people to misbehave. I didn’t understand the poem. Flannista suggested I contact the poet. She even provided me with an email address. Debra took time to address my questions and concerns. I wanted to share her comments with the Sassistas!TM who also read the poem. Debra (pictured below) gave me permission to post the poem for everyone to read and permission to use excerpts from her reply that follows:
“You say you’re not sure you understand 'At the Arraignment,' which is a good response . . . . There are a lot of poems I don’t understand right away . . . I applaud your resilience in going back for more readings, they usually pay off.”
“You say you’re angry at Jesus for his holier-than-thou attitude, but I have to say if there’s anyone I know who’s entitled to feel holier than the rest of us, it would be Jesus, at least as I experience him. And if he’s justified in feeling holy, then it seems natural that some of us would be angry with him. I have been, on occasion.”
“I . . . see Jesus as a little exasperated with people sometimes. He comes among us, tells us that the main goal of life should be for us to love each other, shows us what that would look like, and then has to watch while we completely ignore or misinterpret what he said and did.”
“In the courtroom in the poem, there are spectators, who feel fairly powerless but who could probably do a lot to help the prisoners if they were more bold and/or merciful. There’s the judge, who’s doing the best he can with the laws that punish rather than encourage good behavior . . . . There are the prisoners, who ignored the laws even though they probably knew what would happen . . . if they got caught. I imagine most of [them] as desperate -- hungry, cold, frustrated with an economic system that keeps down the poor and uneducated.”
“I imagine Jesus thinking, 'Well, if these spectators can’t figure out how to help these prisoners, the least they can do is live to the extreme themselves . . . .' I saw him urging the middle-class spectators, whose main goal is to maintain their material advantages, to experiment and not play so safe.”
“ . . . if you think about his life . . . he really didn’t play it safe. He broke a lot of the Jewish rules . . . and was finally arrested by the Romans on the charge of plotting to overthrow the government. I see that as the source of his holier-than-thou position: he’s been both . . . spectator . . . and prisoner, he’s been law-abiding and law-breaking. He’s been merciful and bold. And it still strikes me that giving your life for all of humanity is extravagant behavior.”
“As I was writing, I suddenly felt how frustrated . . . he might feel as how we live our middle-class lives, going around doing a little bit of good once in a while and just trying to stay safe most of the time. Even when we enjoy ourselves, we’re careful . . . we’re afraid of breaking the law, we’re afraid of those who do. So I thought, maybe Jesus would be there in the courtroom telling us, Fear not!”
“I was surprised when I wrote this poem, surprised at what Jesus finally ends up saying. He said a lot of other things over the many drafts of the poem, and what he [finally] says in the poem were the only things that made sense to me. They didn’t make sense right away, and I’m not sure I’ve articulated why I think they make sense . . . , but when I finished the poem I felt I’d struck something true.”
When I finished reading Debra's comments, I understood the poem better. I hope sharing what she wrote will give you a greater appreciation of the poem and the poet. If you are interested, her book of poetry, Pomegranate, is available through Hummingbird Press and can be ordered on-line at hummingbirdpress@skyhighway.com. Thanks again, Debra.
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