The Ballad of the Debtors and Trespassors
There are old country chapels set back from the times
whose quaintness enlivens the heart
and inspires the cadence of old country rhymes
or the light in that old country art.
Though the pews may all creak and the carpets may shed,
renovation is never pursued,
and the sheep in the flock may be very few head
but their faith cannot be misconstrued.
In these parts, they worship with time-honored praise,
the creedo passed down and well-known,
and though they’re aware that there are other ways,
those ways ought best keep to their own.
‘Twas in one such church on one fresh Sunday morn’
when, with hymns sung and pittance plates passed,
and the Lord’s prayer begun, that the standoff was born,
when the debtors and trespassers clashed.
It was sparked by an innocent rift in renditions,
(though most conflicts start this way, true ;)
with worshipers from two tangential traditions
hard-pressed to know quite what to do.
For the good book is printed with some variation,
with nuances subtle and meek,
and many a meaning gets tweaked in translation
from Latin or Hebrew or Greek.
In the words that Christ gave, once obeisance is wrought,
and dominion incarnate is laid,
and nutrition requested, forgiveness is sought,
and a syntax choice needs to be made.
With the disputed simile breeched
and the group recitation mish-mashed,
their beseeching soon ebbed to sheer absence of speech,
when the debtors and trespassers clashed.
In that vacuous silence, a throat-clearing noise,
a pious and virtuous “a-hem, ”
was more about protest without breaking poise
than about any movement of phlegm.
The discomfort passed, the service proceeded
to the message of guilt and redemption,
and seemingly, both of the factions receded
and gave it their fullest attention.
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poem by Adam Hoagland
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