I. 

If I sneeze in Religion class,
they all say “Bless you,”
like a choir of angels
in joyous assent.

If I sneeze in Economics,
they’re quiet and dead,
as if taken by the Devil
and Statistics.

II.

At the local chapel,
the collection is an exercise
to see if we can empty our wallets
without our left hand knowing
what our right has done,
or what our neighbor’s right has done.

In France, 
your generosity clinks 
in the collection plate, 
like bells ringing in the Good News.

III. 

The promise of eternal life
should make one step with steady faith 
toward his death: a happy stride.

But even the Pope now falters 
on the path to the Pearly Gates.