The Apostles' Creed in limericks

by Kim Fabricius

I believe in the Father, Creator
of nice things like pets and potaters;
as for floods, flags, and fleas
and all sorts disease –
yuk, theodicy sooner or later.

I believe in the Christ, Lord and Son,
whose conception was second to none,
for the Spirit had plans
to omit Mary’s man –
so, alas, for poor Joseph, no fun.

I believe in the Lord’s execution,
after torture by state Lilliputians;
and a grievous descent
to a place of lament
that was emptied without retribution.

I believe in the Lord’s resurrection,
as physical as an erection;
he returned to the stars
with his bruises and scars
to portray a new kind of perfection.

I believe in his coming as Judge,
not to raise hell or settle a grudge,
but to reconcile all,
even those who will bawl,
“What, no violence? A liberal fudge!”

I believe in the Spirit and kirk,
(though the latter can be quite a jerk);
and forgiveness – it’s free,
unconditionally
(says the church, with a smile – or a smirk?).

To conclude: the communion of saints:
I’m unsure what it is; but it ain’t
only Christians like you
who believe as you do –  
like the Lord’s under creedal constraint?

Oops, life – Life! – I almost forgot.
What’s it like? Well, I’ll give it a shot:
it’s like visions of Blake,
it’s like ice cream and cake –
it’s a lot, and a lot, and a lot …