The humor that I tried to make
Has caused the heads of some to ache,
The Lord, they say, not once did smile,
Lenten humor doth God revile.
The views of holy men I praise,
Though not them all to dogma raise.
If Christ on earth was somber e’re,
The yoke he broke did clear the air.
As sons and daughters, we are free,
To celebrate this liberty.
My karma’s triumph e’er the tomb,
Has just run o’er your dogma’s gloom.
In words of Germans born of old,
To harmless humor’s joy I hold.
Wes Brot ich ess, des Lied ich sing:
Whose bread I eat, his song I sing,
The Bread of Life’s a tender glee
From which a laugh need never flee.
Eternal life we seek with care
Yet e’re with cheer this duty bear!
*A poem, written in reaction to the humorless, by Archbishop Chrysostomos of Etna; used by permission.