You know, I don't really care about Christs miracles, whether raising the dead or changing water into wine or rebuking winds or doing the brilliant escape from the cave into everlasting life. Why do we need more magic tricks from this earth, by God or by man?

No, I love the longing for love that would make God come down into the earth in total humility and degradation, to walk with prostitutes and that most abhorrent of all miscreants, the tax collector. To be holy enough to ask a question of God like "why hast thou forsaken me?" To suffocate like a thirsty criminal, yet be totally innocent. We can debate whether God ever really needed to exist--would God not be like everything else on earth were that the case?

He seems most holy in the above cases of impossible sacrifice; of love that thinks not for itself, but in the radical cause of building ones self-preservation into the thought that life is love or it is nothing.

Jesus Christ, whether you strode thru the earth like a brief cataclysm of ridiculously earnest love, or was a myth born of some deeper place within the rat race, I love you like I love woman: The best in both of you I am not worthy of, so why be so selfish as to demand that either of you be real?