Jesus Christ, Why?
I’m surrounded by crucifixion images all day long. While vacuuming the Church, the writhing and suffering Jesus hovers over the alter. The images on the stain glass windows tell the story of his torture. They call it “The Stages of the Cross.”
I know this because I once performed in a staging of “The Stages of the Cross.” Do you know the dude who questions J’s divinity on the cross? He was one of the two criminals that were crucified with Jesus. He asked a very reasonable question:
Luke 23: 39-41 says, “One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: ‘Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!’”
I played that guy in the play. And I take umbrage with that phrase “hurled insults,” by the way. I mean, my guy is hanging on a fucking cross with nails through his wrists, and, suddenly, he sees that guy Jesus he’s been hearing about: performer of miracles, healing the sick, walking on water. Jesus is our savior. That’s what he’s heard. So he did what anyone would do. He called out for help.
Hey! You!! Aren’t you that savior everyone is talking about? You are!! Oh thank God. Save yourself! Save me! Please.
Wait, what? What’s that other guy rebuking me about in Luke 23:40-42?
Dost not thou fear God,
seeing thou art in the same condemnation?
And we indeed justly;
for we receive the due reward of our deeds:
but this man hath done nothing amiss.
And he said unto Jesus, Lord,
remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.
What a fucking kiss ass. Dude, this is Jesus. Ok? Haven’t you heard about Jesus? He’s like mad chill. He hangs out with his twelve boys. They drink a lot of wine and help people. They just do it to make people happy. They’re poor and they don’t mind it.
I’ve been meaning to look you up Jesus. My boy Judas wanted me to chill with your group—you know, lucky number thirteen. Hahaha.
Don’t you worry, my rebuker. Jesus will get both of us out of this. He has super powers. Tell him Jesus. Tell him we’re going home after all. :::sobbing with relief:::
And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto, thee
To day shalt thou be with me in paradise, says Luke 23:43.
Wait. What does that mean, J? Come on, use your magic, man! Get us down from here! Come on!
Ok, look, I’ll join your fan club. I mean it. I do not believe in God, nor do I believe that you are the son of said creator, but you had some good things to say, and everyone says you have cool powers. So, if you want to believe that you are God’s kid—well, whatever makes you happy, man. You’re the Son of God. I believe you. Ok? I’m in! Praise Jesus. Now, please, use your powers to get me down.
Wait, what? Die for my sins? What the hell are you talking about? What have I done? I probably robbed some money from this corrupt fucking Roman government, or exerted my personal freedom in a way that rattled my Fascist Dictator—hail Caesar. Other than that, how am I a sinner?
…
Original Sin? What’s that, Jesus?
…
Hey, man, wake up! Come on, cut the shit. You can’t be dying already. Crucifixion is supposed to take days to kill us. What is original sin? Will your dying get me down from here? Is that how your magic works?
…
Ok, it’s not funny anymore. Hey asshole! Wake up and use your powers to save our lives!!
…
Oh, you have got to be kidding me. They’re taking his body and shrouding it already? What have we been up here for—fifteen minutes? He can’t be dead already. That’s impossible. I mean, look! I think I see him breathing.
Hey, somebody stop them. You, Roman conquerers, stop those idiots! Jesus passed out and they think he’s dead. They’re going to bury him alive. Oh ,this is just fucked up. Jesus!!
Explore posts in the same categories: Working as a Janitor in a ChurchTags: Atheism, Buddhism, Catholic Church, Comedy, Literature, Philosophy, The Gospel of Luke, Writer, Writing
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