Then she opened up a book of poems and handed it to me— written by an Italian poet from the thirteenth century. And every one of them words rang true and glowed like burnin’ coal from pourin’ off of every page like it was written in my soul from me to you.
Then Jesus said unto the sick, “you better have insurance.”
Then Jesus said unto the stranger, “are you here legally?”
Then Jesus said unto the hungry, “my taxes better not be paying for these loaves and fishes.”
Then Jesus said unto the poor, “this is your own fault.”