And Jesus walked

And Jesus walked a dog this morning in the frozen neighborhood where I live. He had just read with compassion an epistle to the editor of a local newspaper from a man protesting all the talk about Burlington's and North Carolina's and the country's "taking God out of and off of":

...to those who say He does not exist: If He doesn't exist, why are you so fearful [sic]?
    Well, you are in good company [?]. Jesus had no servants yet they called Him master. He held no degree, yet they called Him teacher. He had no medicines, yet they called Him healer. He had no armies, yet kings feared Him. He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world [?]. He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him.
    To you out there today who are still bothered by Him: He was buried in a tomb, and yet he still lives today....

And as Jesus walked the dog, he thought on these strange words. The righteous writer seemed in a state, and Jesus was inclined to let his heart go out to him. But the man knew not whereof he spake. He but mouthed platitudes received from out of his parents' mouths, as his parents had received them from out of the mouths of their own parents, on and on back through a long line of generations until the original commission of the sin of believing everything your parents told you.

And Jesus thought on this with such intensity as he and the dog retraced their steps that he failed to notice that the dog was snapping up the hard, dry turd Jesus had steered him around earlier. And Jesus commanded the dog, "Spit out that foulness!" But this only startled the dog, who reflexively and promptly swallowed it, even though he hadn't completed his deliberations whether to do so or not.

And Jesus thought, how like a dog is mankind! The harder I try to dissuade men from religion, all the more quickly do they snap it up and swallow it whole.