The Pilgrim Road 43,44.45,46,47,48,49 Poem by David McLansky

In the Sacristy (43)

The Bishop Judge was much displeased, 

'A canker sore, a vile disease, 

Can broadly spread its foul infection, 

If we don't act at it's detection; 

The body of Our Holy Mother, 

The Virgin Sisters, the Holy Brothers, 

Will wear the badge of pestilence

If we don't act in their defense; 

A demon horde stands at our gates
With beating swords, their lust to sate,
With catapults and battering rams, 

The pagan dead, the living damned, 

To invade the precincts of our city, 

To rape and rob, devoid of pity, 

To overthrow all law and order

To sow the seeds of gross disorder; 

They'll hold aloft upon their pikes

The ciborium and the pyx; 

They'll pry the jewels from the chalice, 

With greedy eyes intent on malice; 

They'll defile the Consecrated Host, 

With Holy Wine they'll drink and boast; 

They'll celebrate their pagan rites

On the sacred altar of Jesus Christ! 

Anarchy will rudely reign, 

All our work will be in vain, 

Every garden over-grown, 

With wanton weeds, disorder sown! '




The astounded Deacon looked askance

As the Judge raged on in his rant

For he felt this burden weight

Lay on his shoulders, confounding Fate.



In the Vestry (44)

That very Sunday afternoon
The Pilgrim was led to a private room, 

There stood the Bishop in his golden vestments

Having just performed the Sacraments; 

'Tell me something of yourself, 

What do you seek, power, wealth? 

Why do you disturb Holy Mother Church? 

Tell me Pilgrim, for what you search? '

He answered standing in tattered clothes,
His sandals broken at the toes:
'Like Christ I put no faith in possessions, 

The pursuit of power is not my obsession, 

I simply seek to do the good, 

In fellowship and brotherhood.'

The Bishop smiled and called him 'Son, 

You walk the path as Christ has done; 

Commendable, but a pain-filled route, 

What He could have done being more astute? 

Had He chosen to take the well trod path, 

He would have aroused far less wrath; 

Had He aimed to become a Temple Priest

He might have then assured the peace; 

But He chose to preach outside the fold

And what was worse, His betters scold; 

Had He been more patient and circumspect, 

Had He stuck to parables and been less direct, 




He might have risen to be High Priest, 

No Last Supper but a Passover feast, 

We could've all sat down and joined hands, 

Without sacrificing The Son of Man.'



In the Vestry (45)

The Pilgrim stood amazed, aghast, 

Was this the man who led the Mass, 

Who offered up the blood of Christ

In memory of His sacrifice? 

'Let me be clear in what you've said, 

I stand alarmed in fear and dread, 

My eyes and ears ope' amazed

I doubt my senses on such days; 

Had Jesus submitted to the Priests

And been a servant in His own fief, 

He might have risen to be Chief, 

Not crucified for His beliefs? 

Had He not engaged in monologues

But risen in the synagogue, 

He would've changed our human course, 

And we'd have known far less remorse? '

The Bishop smiled, 'You get my point, 

His only error, He did Self-anoint; 

Oh, He had the blessing of wild man John

Who roused Herod with false alarm, 

A desert rat who lived on locusts, 

A man whose mind was out of focus; 

A man who had no Authority, 

From Temple in his ministry; 

Had Jesus been the Chief Rabbi

So many Jews would have survived; 

The Temple Curtain would've not been rent; 

The Roman siege a non-event; 




The Zealots would not have rebelled; 

The city's towers would have not been felled;
The Jews and Romans reconciled

Within His beatific Holy smile; 

Jerusalem would stand today

And so would Rome, I dare to say! 

Caesar would have talked to Christ

And benefited from His advice.'



In the Vestry (46)

'But what of Christ's crucifixion? 

Our salvation in His resurrection? 

Had He not died for our sins, 

What state would our poor souls be in? '

And here the clever Bishop smiled, 

'In Christ we'd all be reconciled, 

For by what act can we be purged

Of that great sin that mankind urged: 

The murder of God's only Son, 

Oh had that act not been done! 

We killed the rightful Heir to Heaven, 

Of He who built the earth in seven; 

What fast or act of contrition

Can ameliorate that act's sedition; 

How many blows of the whip, 

How many prayers murmured by our lips, 

Can wash away our awful guilt

His Perfect Son, His Blood we spilt.

We refused to pay the vineyard rent, 

Then killed His Son who God had sent.'



In the Vestry (47)

'The sin the Church can't abide

Is the sin of human pride; 

The church requires true submission

To participate in God's Holy mission; 

'Jesus' human sin was pride, 

This from his mortal side derived, 

He knew that He'd be crucified, 

Yet chose the colt on which to ride; 

He should have joined the Sanhedrin

And reformed the Temple from within

If He found it so defective, 

His self-destruction was elective; 

So too young man you stand apart

From that which is the Church's heart, 

Faith in it's timeless institutions, 

Obedience is the solution.'



In the Vestry (48)

The Pilgrim looked at them awhile,
And then his lips curled in a smile, 

'By the logic to which you ascribe, 

I should address you as, 'Monseigner Rabbi.''



In the Vestry (49)

The Deacon spat and then he hissed, 

'You show him mercy and see how he resists

Your kind appeal to his intellect, 

He answers you with disrespect! '

The Bishop frowned and then agreed, 

'The trial goes on, you'll not be freed; 

I thought we'd make of you a friend, 

You know well enough how this will end; 

You'll be burnt, <i>auto de</i> fire, 

Now please excuse me, I must retire.'

The Pilgrim stretched out his hand, 

The Bishop stopped as if on command; 

'You know the child is not a witch, 

Why persecute her, why persist? '

The Bishop stroked his golden robes, 

And caressed the silk within its folds; 

'These things have there own momentum, 

There's no way that you can prevent them; 

Sometime we need to burn a witch, 

You have to scratch when you feel an itch; 

It's you who bare the greatest blame, 

You defied the Priest, you lit the flame; 

I could have saved her from the auto-de-fey, 

But you put drama in the way; 

Now the Church must defend its position, 

It cannot be challenged on Inquisition; 

You both shall die and it's a shame; 

The Church must protect its Holy Name.'



The Pilgrim again held up his hand, 

And eyed the Bishop, man to man, 

'One more question before you go, 

This is a sin you surely know; 

You who've studied so deeply Christ, 

Show little benefit from His advice.'

The Bishop looked him in the eye, 

And then let out a heavy sigh; 

'The Papacy must protect its power, 

It stands a gleaming, shimmering tower

Against confusion and chaos, 

I would have voted with Caiiphus.'