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Prefab Tabernacle
They placed their prefab tabernacle there
Between the supermarket and the gym
And come each Sunday, clad in activewear,
From force of habit, happenstance, or whim.
But there’s no place for saints nor seraphim
Within Eternity’s wan waiting room,
So distant from that disconcerting tomb;
Just folding chairs which fan out, row by row,
Before a stage and two projector screens
On which some words from Jeremiah glow.
A pastor, dressed in faded denim jeans,
Presents a seminar on what it means
To dwell in exile from an unseen land
For reasons none could ever understand.
Our Babylon is just a state of mind,
He cries, and we must strive to live in peace
With servitude and sin. Don’t judge—be kind,
For naught but tolerance can win release
From this cheap, plastic prison; only cease
To struggle and, perhaps, in your own fashion
You might some day find glory without passion.
Forget this world ground God Himself to dust
Beneath the engines of its industry;
Forget they sold your soul and learn to trust
Those fools who told you Heaven cannot be—
Accept this sacrament of melody
And sing it to yourself while you pretend
You can believe in being without end.
Then, as the music swells, the congregation
Imagines ecstasies to exorcise
All doubt; as if, evoked from desperation,
One small apocalypse behind closed eyes
Could countermand the nagging mess of lies
Their muddled lives demand, leaving behind
The pale reflection of a pristine mind.
Yet in their hearts they bear a love which burns
Without necessity, which can’t be sold
Nor satisfied; a love which ever spurns
Stale promises which leaven lead from gold
And all those mindless platitudes extolled
By mush-mouthed prophets terrified it might
Set fire to suburbs should it burn too bright.
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Shaun C. Duncan is a picture framer and fine art printer who lives in Adelaide, South Australia.
“For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” King James Version of the Bible. Mathew 18:20.
Thank you, Roy. I felt it was important to emphasize that despite the shortcomings of so many modern churches (across all denominations I might add) that the remnants of true faith remains, obscured perhaps, but undimished in the hearts of their congregants.
Elegantly rhymed, moving and quietly assertive. Thanks for sharing, Shaun.
Thank you for taking the time to read it and comment, Martin.
Shawn, I enjoy your expressive imagery, invoking us to be reminded, that God is wherever we seek him.
Thank you, Paulette!
This was really impressive, starting with the title through to the last couplet. The terrified mush-mouthed prophets imagery was very effective.
You’re most kind, Warren – thank you. I was quite pleased with the image of the mush-mouthed prophets, so I’m glad you liked it too.
“Fine art” of a poem.
Thanks, JD!
This is a sardonic portrait in verse of most Mainstream clergy, with their utterly secularist outlooks and their desperate pleas to their congregations to submit obediently to anything that the left-liberal cultural elite dictates as required or acceptable.
The words “the nagging mess of lies / Their muddled lives demand” is a spot-on description of what goes on in the minds of these dwindling Mainstream “Prefab” congregations.
Thank you, Joe. It seems to me that so many church leaders, across denominations, are terrified of the implications a true Christianity would have for the modern world and its secular-liberal project. Some day I’ll get around to writing a poem about how many of the so-called conservative strains of Christianity, with their plastic traditionalisms, are part of the same problem.
This is a great poem that opens many avenues of thought, some profound, and others simply manifestations of the Zeitgeist, but always with technical perfection that delights a mind bent on highly organized creations. I do wonder, though, why, in the last stanza, you chose “leaven” instead of “winnow.”
Thank you, CB. As a great admirer of your own technique I always appreciate your kind comments regarding my own. As for “leaven”, I’m tempted to say I did for the alliteration and for the fact that the word is often used biblically as a symbol of transformation but really it just comes down to a limited vocabulary on my part.
Great message, written with, as Mr. Anderson said, exquisite “technical perfection.” Thanks for sharing this, Shaun.
Thank you for taking the time to read it and comment, Russel.
The irony of a church being jammed “between the supermarket and the gym” is illustrated so well with the phrase in the next stanza: “in exile from an unseen land”. This is a very intriguing poem.
Thank you, Cynthia. There is a church near me which is literally sandwiched between the two and all its branding makes it look like an office supplies store. It seemed symbolic to me of how churches of seemingly all denominations accommodate themselves to spiritually bankrupt world. And yet, the fact that people still attend every Sunday speaks to the stubbornness of faith in its purest form.
On the way to our traditional liturgical church, we pass a megachurch that is hard to distinguish from a Home Depot. I don’t know how the people who go there can feel spiritually nourished — it does seem like it would feel “spiritually bankrupt” to me, by outward appearance anyway — but their huge parking lot is always jammed.
I know people who attend a similar church. I don’t understand it, and, as a Catholic, it seems to me to be the logical endpoint of certain tendencies I’m not keen on in my own church, but I cannot deny the sincerity of their faith. My poem was an attempt to make sense of this.
This is a tour de force of a poem that taps into the zeitgeist with a fearless passion that makes it a compelling read. I love the way you use all the tools of the linguistic trade to highlight today’s friction between faith, consumer culture, and authenticity. The insightful use of imagery took this reader to a place where satire mingles with a yearning to create a disillusionment that’s tangible… but love is too profound to be a mere commodity. What makes it especially potent is the heartfelt undercurrent that runs beneath the critique: a recognition that even amidst artifice and fragmentation, the human spirit continues to hunger for transcendence, and in this longing lies the truth. Your closing stanza is heartachingly beautiful.
Shaun, you have written a thought-provoking and heart-touching piece that will speak to many, I am certain. thank you!
The description seems apt, Shaun, though I have no practical experience of pre-fab tabernacles. We have all seen such places of apparently little “church appeal” and your poem does make one wonder once again why some go there. My first explanation is a little different from yours; it’s drawn not from the present phenomena, but from the anthropology of religion. Mircea Eliade, having studied in both primitive and civilized societies, speaks of the human need for the sacred, in particular for sacred space (a church) and sacred time (Sunday for Christians). This is so fundamental, he says, that human beings make or find easy substitutes when the real thing is not available. A home, part of a home, or an attractive outdoor area, can be sacralized. Why not, then, a commercial building with a rental price suited to the means of the small group gathering there? As your poem observes, the sacralizing consists of a sermon that demands little thought, and music to the taste of the congregation.
But why do people go to these places, when in Australia and the United States, churches that look more real and have VERY similar preaching are available? The second part of my answer is from secondhand information. Persons who become dissatisfied with more traditional churches form the congregation. Dissatisfaction happens for a vast variety of reasons, but it seems to be mainly individual. Personal or doctrinal or political or ESPECIALLY moral conflicts exist. The congregants do not like the money gathering necessary to keep the operation going. They have a distaste for even minimal formality or regulations, and a fear of being rejected. But the need for the sacred, for God and His possible help, for a sense of community, continues.
And for a few, it offers at least a part-time profession with the associated respect and authority. I have been surprised to learn how very little it takes to become a preacher or the equivalent. And to find how easily ministers pass in and out of the trade–when denominational ordination or supervision is absent. It takes no more than a space to have a church, or if some persons are a little more serious about it, a contract drawn up by a lawyer, with a business name given the “church.” These arrangements are frequent, apparently, but rarely long-lasting. The minister himself or herself may get dissatisfied with the church, and in the U. S., federal approval for tax-exempt status may take years to achieve, so the church business may turn out to be an expensive liability.
Your composition is, as usual, very well structured, with some splendid wording for the subject. A “sacrament of melody” for “muddled lives” is the sad reality of indistinct faith.