Gospel According to Migrants: Chapter 12, 3-16
3 “And at that time they had a notorious murderer named Payton.
And Pilate said to them
“Whom do you want me to release to you, as is tradition to acquit one in this court of law?
Payton, or Abdullah, who is called the servant, the God-fearing?”
4 And the Christians screamed out Payton, give us Payton.
5 Pilate’s wife had a read of his massacre,
of Payton at a market,
saying to Pilate “have nothing to do with this man’s freedom.”
6 “Again”, Pilate repeated, “I ask, who
shall I release unto you? Abdullah,
who has journey over al-Bahr al-Abyad,
who has traversed the Atlantic in a scourging metal hell,
whose olive groves were razed,
who saw the Cedars of God die slowly,
whose ancestors housed your Christ when he had no home,
who will work in your bakeries, your groceries,
who will help your elderly in their last days?”
7 Give us Payton, he is but ill! They yelled more fiercely,
for the Chief Politicians and Elder Statesmen
had persuaded the multitudes that they should but
think of the young man’s health and destroy Abdullah.
8 “I shall release unto you Abdullah, I find
no fault in him” - still they screamed
more fervently for His death.
9 “Why, what evil has He done?”
But they answered not, assured that His blood was impure,
10 the children of His home
starving and mothers
weeping for a lack of milk, crying out
all the more, saying,
Let Him be crucified!
11 His blood be on us and on our children.
And before His walk in Death Valley
they burned a crucifix
so he might bathe in the light before His death.
12 On the hour of His death, Abdullah cried in a loud voice:
“E'lo-i, E'lo-i, la'ma sabach-tha'ni?"
I was hungry and your people fed me lies
I was thirsty and they told me of the purity of their blood
I was a stranger and they deported me
I was naked and they complained about my encampment
I was sick and they wrote of my pre-existing condition
I was in prison and they took my humanity.”
13 His tears dry, he quietly breathed his last.