They tried to nail you down
to synagogue and Temple,
because
you had other fish to fry.

They tried to confine you
to doctrine and law,
especially the ones about purity,
but instead you touched lepers
and ate with sinners
because
you had other fish to fry.

They wanted you to be
a good Jewish male,
confident in your superior masculinity,
but instead you spoke to women –
Samaritan and Canaanite at that –
because
you had other fish to fry.

They tried to wash their hands of you,
get rid of you,
nailing you up on shameful gallows,
but instead you loved them
and forgave them
because
you had other fish to fry.

They thought you had gone for good –
Proconsul, Pharisee, Disciple –
but there you were instead,
in a garden,
a locked room,
on the Emmaus road,
and on the beach
with those whom you loved,
frying other fish.