The God Of My Faith

I don’t believe in the god of the magistrates.
I don’t believe in the god of the generals.
I don’t believe in the god of patriotic prayers.

I don’t believe in the god of funeral hymns.
I don’t believe in the god of courtrooms.
I don’t believe in the god of constitutions and epilogues of eloquent discourses.

I don’t believe in the god of the luck of the rich.
I don’t believe in the god of the fear of the opulent.
I don’t believe in the god of the happiness of those who rob the people.
I don’t believe in the god that caters to the middle class.

I don’t believe in the god of a false peace.
I don’t believe in the god of unpopular – or popular – justice.
I don’t believe in the god of venerated national traditions.

I don’t believe in the god of empty sermons.
I don’t believe in the god of protocol greetings.
I don’t believe in the god of marriage without love.

I don’t believe in the god constructed in the image and likeness of the powerful.
I don’t believe in the god of unexamined enculturation.
I don’t believe in the god invented as a sedative for the miseries and suffering of the poor.

I don’t believe in the god who sleeps in the walls nor hides in the coffers of the churches.
I don’t believe in the god of commercials.
I don’t believe in the god of propaganda.

I don’t believe in the god made of lies as breakable as clay.
I don’t believe in the god of established order, which is only an agreed upon disorder.

The god of my faith was born in a cave. He was a Jew who was persecuted by a foreign king and walked as a vagrant through Palestine. He sought the company of common folk, gave bread to those who were hungry, light to those who lived in darkness, freedom to those who were in chains, peace to those who asked for justice.

The god of my faith puts people above the law and love in place of old traditions. He doesn’t have a rock on which to lay his head and is taken for one of the poor.

He only met with doctors when they doubted his word. He was with judges, who managed to condemn him. He was sent among the police as a prisoner. He stepped into the palace of the governor to be whipped.

The god of my faith wore a crown of thorns. He wore a tunic woven in blood. He had forerunners who opened the road for him to Calvary, where he died among thieves on the cross.

The god of my faith is none other than the son of Mary, Jesus of Nazareth.

Every day he dies, crucified by our selfishness.

– The God Of My Faith [alt.], Frei Betto, O.P.

1457477459_119657_1457478822_noticia_normal_recorte1