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Jesus did not come to tell us tales

Jesus Christ, my child, did not come to tell us tales.
During the little time that he had.
What is three years in the life of a world.
In the eternity of this world.
He didn’t have any time to waste, he didn’t waste his time telling us tales and playing charades for us to figure out.
Very witty charades.
Very clever.
A wizard’s riddles.
Full of double-entendres and tricks and stupid subtleties and complexities.
No, he didn’t waste his time and he didn’t take pains,
He didn’t have the time,
His pains, his great, his very great pain.
He didn’t waste, he didn’t expend all of that, all of his being, everything.
He didn’t spend himself, spend everything, he didn’t make this enormous, this terrible expense
Of self, of his being, (of) everything.
To come afterwards, with this, by means of this, at this price,
To come at this price with some code to decipher To decode.
Tricks, silly nonsense, quid pro quos, clever little antics like a fortuneteller from the town.
Like a village clown.
Like a traveling acrobat, a charlatan in his cart.
Like the town prankster, like the funniest guy in the tavern….
He had an errand to run for us on behalf of his father.
He did for us what he was sent to do and he went back.
He came, he paid (what a price!), and he left.
He didn’t come recount for us extraordinary stories.
Nothing is simpler than the word of God.
He told us things that were quite ordinary.
Very ordinary.
The incarnation, salvation, redemption, the word of God.
Three or four mysteries.
Prayer, the seven sacraments.
Nothing is as simple as God’s glory.