Our father goes into the forest and loses himself, climbs the nearest tree when night finds him too tired to carry on. Our father climbs the tree because he is afraid of the earth, and me with this face like wilds— Don’t feed him when he comes shaky to your doorstep, pleads to sleep in a corner. He wants to destroy your house as if it were a body, as if it were my body. Wants to tear you from your sheets with his teeth, crusts that we both are. Brother, you are so fair, the palms of your hands like new stones. You wreak with axes. Cut him back to where he came from, leave him just as he left us, lost and trembling—Father, moon, planet. Our father who art these things, our father, an outstretched hand, a bone hand: Chop it down. --Sara Moore Wagner, "Deadbeat" Christians often start their prayers with “Our Father” when asking Him for help, with the assumption that someone is listening on the other end. Is He there? Does He care? Even if He is there and does care, does He have the power to do anything? Even if He has such power, does He just sit back and watch His creation unfold, for better or for worse? When struggles weigh us down, does He buoy us up, or does he continue to climb up a tree, ignoring our pleas? This essay analyzes the prayer-like call to God contained in the 2018 poem “Deadbeat” by Sara Moore Wagner. Instead of expressing hope, the narrator bemoans God’s disregard for her and her problems. Our Father, usually portrayed as a loving and protective parent, appears weak in this poem. He scurries up a tree to escape the problems of the earth below. That stanza describes Him as an imperfect man “too tired to carry on” and “afraid/ of the earth.” The Father's fear and lethargy in the poem reflect his lack of self-control, which is not what one would expect from a supposedly omnipotent and omniscient god. If this poem were about a mortal father, such human characteristics would be tolerable and perhaps even understandable. However, for the narrator, these characteristics undermine her faith and the definition of the nature of God. It is unclear why she might feel entitled to such assistance. What is clear, however, is that the narrator feels entitled. The narrator’s frustration with God manifests itself in disrespect for Him in three ways. First, capital letters usually are used when referring to Deity, in order to show respect, as in “Our Father who art in heaven hallow be thy name. . . .” The narrator uses a lowercase letter when referring to the “father,” which can be seen as disrespectful and challenging of traditional religious norms. Second, the narrator’s disdain for God is strongest when telling others to ignore His requests for help: “Don’t feed him when he comes/ shaky to your doorstep, pleads/ to sleep in a corner.” Here, the narrator's instructions seem to deliberately veer away from Christ’s teachings in the New Testament, which emphasize helping others: “For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in . . . ” (Matthew 25:35 KJV). The narrator's instruction to withhold assistance or comfort from the shaky, pleading father figure aligns with the theme of abandonment. It may even show a desire for God to experience the abandonment the narrator feels in relation to Him. Third, the reference to Him being the “moon, [and] planet” also seems to intentionally lower His status, since God often is likened to the Sun and celestial glory. Critics might claim that the poem’s lowering of God’s status brings Him closer to man, making it easier for God to empathize with man and making it easier for man to relate to God. However, the poem’s context suggests disrespect, not empathy or relatability. What leads the narrator to lower his esteem for God? The narrator gives us a few hints. First, the image of God’s “outstretched hand,” typically seen as an affectionate gesture in sacred art, takes a sharp turn in the next line when the poem surprisingly describes it as a “bone hand.” Here, the writer ironically uses the image of cold, rigid hands that cannot help or will not help, as if God is powerless or aloof. Second, this passage echoes the earlier theme of apathy: “Brother, you are so/ fair, the palms of your hands/ like new stones.” These two passages discussing a bone hand and a stone hand capture the narrator’s feelings of abandonment. Critics might claim that the stone hand signifies the positive attribute of stability. However, both represent lifelessness and immovability. Noticeably, they possess a key difference: One uses “father,” and the other uses “brother.” This can symbolize the duality of Christ, as being both God and man. The horizontal relationship between siblings evokes feelings of support and comradery that might be lacking in a vertical relationship between parent and child. Here, “father” would symbolize the harsher side of God, while “brother” would symbolize the more compassionate side. Shockingly, the narrator asks the brother to cut down the father: “Cut him/ back to where he came from, / leave him just/ as he left us, lost/ and trembling.” It is as if the narrator wants mercy to completely overpower harshness, without any regard for what the brother might want. Regardless, the brother cannot or will not help, as symbolized by his hands of stone. From the narrator’s perspective, this represents a double portion of abandonment and seems to intensify her sense of hopelessness. The narrator’s feelings are not limited to abandonment. Indeed, the narrator seems to feel attacked by God, as shown in a graphic portion of the poem. The Father is described almost as a beast: He wants to destroy your house as if it were a body, as if it were my body. Wants to tear you from your sheets with his teeth, crusts that we both are. The text puts double emphasis on “body” with its two references. The word “crusts,” such as the crusts of bread, represents an analogy not to any “body” but to Christ’s body. This is seen in sacraments when people of certain faiths eat a piece of bread to remind them of His sacrifice. Other words in this section, such as tear and sheets, could have a spiritual meaning. In many sacramental ordinances, a white sheet covers the bread before it is blessed and passed, which represents Christ’s funeral ceremony. In the Old Testament, the Tabernacle was made up of sheets that separated the Israelites from God’s presence, and modern temples often rely on this symbolism. Various Christian sects talk of our bodies as being like a temple. Here, perhaps God’s tearing of sheets is like defiling these sacred spaces and ceremonies, which, again, is evidence of the narrator abasing God. This interpretation of the poem is not about a mortal father. It is about the narrator’s disgust for an imperfect Heavenly Father. It is about the narrator’s longing for a merciful Christ who possesses greater understanding, although the narrator knows that even Christ cannot help. That frustration with abandonment leads the narrator to see God as a neglectful parent – a “Deadbeat Deity” who is unworthy of our admiration and affection. Infuriated at God for not helping, the narrator wishes Him to be cut down. It is as if the narrator feels entitled to such assistance. A better approach than getting angry would be to accept that God may not help us, even if He can help us. The Bible says a sparrow's heart does not beat without the involvement of Heavenly Father (Matthew 6:26). Yet, many people are suffering unnecessarily due to armed conflict, mental struggles, poverty, and natural disasters, among many other crises. Some would say that He has plans for those who suffer such difficulties, even if humans cannot fully understand those plans. Some even go so far as to claim that God lets people die so that all can exercise their free agency. Personally, if the plan involves death and suffering, it is not a plan worth investing any hope in. Rather, we should face reality and fix our own problems, without waiting for someone to save us. If help is given, we can be grateful for it, but it is not expected or demanded. Works Cited The Bible: Authorized King James Version. Edited by Robert Carroll and Stephen Prickett, Oxford UP, 2008. Wagner, Sara M. “Deadbeat.” Rivet, Issue 20, 2018. https://rivetjournal.com/deadbeat-by-sara-moore-wagner/