Adiaphora

Christ Was the Wizard of All Wizards

“MacLennin wouldn’t let him off the couch without first hearing the manner of king this Christ was that made Brendan’s heart so good, and I doubt Brendan ever preached the Gospel in just such a pickle again.

The fuzzy naked bard with his gilly flowers over one eye took Brendan on one of his knees, his arms clasped about him, and t was there Brendan did it, perched like a bot fly on a bull’s hump. It’s a wonder he could keep a grave face. …

Christ was the king of all kings, Brendan said from Mac Lennin’s knee. He was the wizard of all wizards. He turned water to beer easy as breathing. When he commanded the foaming waves to lay flat, they laid flat. He straightened the bent legs of cripples out and peeled the blue milky scales off the eyes of the blind. When he called out of darkness the first light as ever was, the morning stars sang together at the sweet ring of it and all the sons of heaven shouted for joy.

‘Ah well, he was a bard then,’ MacLennin said. It was the part about Christ’s voice that struck him hardest.

‘MacLennin, he was so mighty a bard his songs have ravished the hearts of men from that day on,’ Brendan said. ‘He was a song himself you might say. King Christ is a song on the lips of the true God.’

It sent a new batch of tears flowing down MacLennin’s cheeks. ‘I’ll be Christ’s bard myself, then,’ he said.”

[Frederick Buechner, Brendan, 76, in a happily-common beautiful passage]