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Mary and Joseph fairly did it,
That night when they each gave, 
Everything to the other, 
In energetic zealous rave.

Heaven and earth co-aligned, 
Stars shone just on them,
Nature whispered unabashed,
As their voice was of 1000 men.

Morality and good were with themselves, 
Unmarried yet with child,
But they knew their baby’s genotype, 
His personality, meek and mild.

In fear of reputations pull,
They adjoined him with God, the divine, 
And accosted the shepherds interest:
The people, the folks on the vine.

There had been predicted, 
By the world’s predictive prophets,
A saviour by name of Jesus Christ,
In etymology’s linguistic minuets.

This man was to be the saviour, 
Of the then known world from doctors,
Who only treated the rich and not,
Those who to them were doctor callers.

The baby’s name was already up for question, 
And Joseph had complete discernment, 
There was a census of the population, 
Which Joseph completed with endearment. 

There was no god to whisper a name,
His parents had to decide on his needs, 
They had to determine the appropriation, 
Of the prophesies and the creeds. 

So they maybe called him Jesus Christ, 
As false as false could be, 
And that he became such bold and true,
Is due to his own credibility. 

Although in life he may have been confused, 
About his birth name from Mary’s heart, 
He had twelve close friends and brothers, 
Who helped his career start. 

These disciples were to me colleagues, 
Of the man who could heal, 
And for a first mover in equal care, 
Twelve is a respectable peal. 

So Jesus became Jesus Christ, 
By his own work and thought, 
And to know this is to have 
Knowledge of history taught. 

This historical Jesus makes most sense,
Navigates literature’s demands, 
Gives interpretation its true space, 
And issues no religious commands. 

Understanding the Jesus meme, 
Depends on reading about the child, 
Accepting his parents circumstances, 
Forming the context of the ancient world.
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