I considered writing a response of some kind to Jefferson Bethke’s controversial video sensation about Jesus being greater than religion. I didn’t feel the video was all bad, but it wasn’t all good. As I followed some of the expected reaction that ensued across the web, I noticed a chilling absence of imagination, causing me to wonder if Jesus isn’t even greater than Jesus, at least the Jesus we think we’ve got a handle on. Let me be very clear, I believe he is. In those wandering moments I caught the shimmer of a first line – ‘incarnation as gape’ – and I cast out far in hopes a poem would rise. *Absinthe is, according to one witness, a cheap, terribly pernicious drink, whereas petrus is consistently ranked among the world’s most deliciously extravagant wines.Incarnation as gape, the gap in divinity’s fabric where flesh flashed, a revelation to magnetize attention, to arouse. And so the game began, an elaborate hide-and-seek because desire vanishes at the point of capture, but we’re not patient with play so we netted and pinned him in the book for purposes of classification, the text of pleasure now sanctioned by our babble, we blindly forgetting that delay keeps things interesting. We’ve even distilled his name down to mere utility -the one who saves – and swig with absinthe smiles while the original offer was the petrus of imagination. He was and is and always shall be primitive, first order zazzle, frolickingly improvisational, eternally irrational, obscured radiance, zigzag joy of God’s psyche.