Oracle: Empire of Screens

I

Woe to the shepherds who scatter the flock.
Woe to the rulers who lie for gain.
You say, Peace, peace, when there is no peace.
You say, Offense, offense, when there is no offense.
They whitewash lies with patriotic hymns,
and your priests bless the idols of power.

You trust in bursts and arsenals.
You boast in armies and banners.
You bow before walls of glass and light,
but you will not bow before the Lord.

You exalt yourselves as a nation above nations,
as Babylon once exalted herself.
You say, “We are exceptional, chosen, free.”
Your pride blinds you; your fall is near.

You trample my courts with empty worship.
You sing your anthems, yet neglect justice.
You raise your hands in praise,
while the orphan and stranger are crushed.

Your prophets flatter.
Your priests bless idols.
Your counselors love applause.
Their tongues bend to lies,
their lips drip with unclean oaths.

The land mourns beneath you.
The rivers are poisoned.
The forests are cut down.
The birds vanish,
the sea groans.

You heap up wealth like Tyre of old.
Your markets reach the ends of the earth.
But your riches will sink like a ship in storm,
your traders will weep at your fall.

You shed innocent blood without remorse.
You build prisons, you make war,
you arm your sons with violence,
and call it peace.

Therefore, says the Lord:
Do not trust in deceptive words.
Amend your ways, seek justice,
or I will make this house like Shiloh,
and this nation a curse to all the earth.

II

You have multiplied altars, not of stone, but of light and glass.
Your children learn the ways of strangers before they know the ways of their fathers.

Fathers and mothers raise an entire generation in drunkenness,
elderly men and babes alike killed before their time.

The blood of the innocent cries from your streets,
yet you say, It is the price of freedom.

Your young women prostitute themselves and play the harlot,
yet you say, It is the freedom of the markets.

Your young men play the hustler and kill themselves,
yet you say, It is the glory of the free.

Woe to you, House of Many Altars.
You trust in the chariots of silicon,
you trust in the horses of algorithm,
but not in the name of the Lord your God.

Your prophets flatter in glowing panels,
crying Peace, peace where there is no peace,
lest their sponsors depart from them.

Your leaders measure worth in vapors,
stealing your birthright and selling it back to you,
buying barges of oil and wine to escape with.

III

How the mighty cities sit in pride,
her towers gleaming, her markets full,
yet the poor lie in doorways,
and no one turns to see.

Her warriors trust in steel and fire;
her rulers boast of armies without end.
But her children die in silence,
and her mothers grieve alone.

Her prophets flatter the throne,
saying, All is well.
Her priests bless the idols of wealth,
their lips sweet, their hands unclean.

Her songs rise in stadiums,
but the land groans under smoke and flood.
The trees are cut down,
the rivers taste of poison.

Her merchants grow fat on distant trade;
their ships are full,
yet their neighbors hunger,
and their gain is blood.

In her streets the innocent fall,
their blood flows like water.
The orphan finds no shelter,
the widow no defense.

O Lord, look and see:
her leaders deceive,
her people are scattered,
her strength is turned to ash.

IV

The days are coming, says the Lord,
when your gold will melt like wax before the fire,
and your councils will stumble like blind men at noon.

I will break the staff of your confidence.
The nations you once ruled will turn away from you.

Your rivers will rise and your coasts be swallowed.
Your metals will burn and your fires unquenched,
and the wind will carry your smoke into the palaces of kings and barons.

Your young, strong in body but empty in soul, will faint for lack of vision.
Your elders will remember the covenant of mercy, but none will listen.

I saw in the night a great eagle.
Its wings were covered with banners,
and on each banner was written the boast of a generation.

But the eagle’s eyes were dim,
and a worm was in its breast.
It rose to the clouds on a wind of wealth and war.
The worm gnawed, the wings withered,
and it fell into a valley where the nations were gathered.

And a voice from the valley cried:
Who can stand in the day of the Lord’s anger?

Yet even now, says the Lord,
turn to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, with mourning.
Tear your hearts, not your garments.

Stop making vain images.
Let justice roll down like waters.
Let righteousness flow like an unending stream.

Defend the orphan.
Plead for the widow.
Lift up the fallen.
And I will make you a people of light in the valley of shadow.

But if you harden your heart, O Empire of Screens,
your splendor will fade like grass,
and your name will become a proverb among the nations.

Says the Lord of hosts:
I am the First and the Last.
Beside me there is no savior,
and no kingdom.