Listen to Marvin read Religion
One time,
At a small Hindu Temple
Outside Benares
(After attendant monks
Had fed the images),
We watched
Three young country women,
Fieldworkers,
Come dancing through the hall.
They pressed their palms
Beneath their chins
(Mudra it’s called)
At each niche-seated shrine.
And lovingly stroked
The many lingams
Scattered about the room.
One time,
At a modest church in Athens,
We asked about the silver
Body parts (an eye, an ear,
A foot, a hand)
Hung near the alter.
These, we learned,
Were offerings to god,
Reverent rewards
For miraculous cures.
One time,
In Chiang Mai,
As we climbed the steps
To the Buddhist Temple,
Our young female guide
Cringed to one side
As two saffron-robed monks
Descended.
Had she, even accidentally,
Touched them,
She explained,
They would be soiled.
One time,
In Jerusalem,
We saw men,
Strangely dressed
Furiously bending
Back and forth,
Inverted pendulums
(Davening, it’s called),
Facing a wall
Made holy by antiquity.
One time,
In Mashad,
At midnight,
We doffed our shoes
And entered the eighth imam’s
Sequined shrine.
The pilgrims there
Around the imam’s
Fretwork tomb
Fastened colored threads
To their afflicted parts
To guide divine afflatus
And cure their pain.
One time,
In Khajuraho,
We ogled 10th century art
Displaying sexual excess—
Rude variations—
On the temple’s outer walls.
Not well understood
(“Tantric yoga,”
Some scholars
Inadequately explain),
They ornament
These holy precincts,
And do wonders
For the tourist trade.
One time,
In Taipei.
We bought some paper money—
An offering to burn.
We threw the sticks
And got one marked
Twenty six.
The assistant Taoist Priest
Looking through the book,
Pronounced our good fortune.
In the courtyard
Stood a new pickup truck,
Brought for blessing.
Firecrackers, attached to
Each corner, made an awful din,
And drove away the demons.
One time,
Outside Katmandu,
We came upon
Prayer-wheels
Spinning in the wind.
Each revolution
Reinforced the mantra
Until, perhaps, it could not
Be ignored.
One time,
In Rome,
We saw parishioners
Kneel at the altar rail
And receive
A consecrated wafer
On their tongues.
It was the flesh of god
We learned.
One time,
Outside Siem Reap,
I climbed an ancient temple.
At the tower’s top,
With ant-like folks below,
I raised my arms
(I could not stop myself)
And howled:
“Thus saith the lord your god!”
No one looked up.
Abashed,
I crept down
And went away.
(7/18/07)
