Is there a God? I thought, pondering the questions that have bewildered mankind for eons. What is He/She/It? Was Jesus really the Son of God, or merely the mortal son of man? And what is life’s ultimate mystery, the one that eludes human comprehension, yet informs our entire existence? Like our ancestors who for ages asked these questions atop mountains and besides rivers, I heard no answers.
Suddenly, the music blaring from the vintage jukebox brought me right back to the present moment, as if someone in the bar had screamed my name, snapping me out of a trance. I looked around. The melodic song, “Personal Jesus,” bellowed from the small speakers. And then amidst the crowd I beheld an impossible sight!
I coughed up beer in shock and disbelief. My eyes widened and my heart nearly stopped! Wiping my mouth with eyes wide open, I stared with amazement at the odd fellow sitting halfway down the bar dressed in a beige cloak with blue tassels and a white linen tunic underneath. He looked like the very embodiment Jesus Christ! And no one else seemed to notice.
“Your own, personal Jesus,” crooned the voice from the jukebox. “Someone to hear your prayers, someone who’s there.”
He sat amidst a glow of a bright white light, as if he was an actor starring on a Broadway stage. I had the strange sensation that the light emanated from within.
“Feeling unknown and you’re all alone, flesh and bone, by the telephone,” the song decreed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Pick up the receiver; I’ll make you a believer.”
There was no denying the fact that he had an immutable presence. I continued to stare, trying to ascertain who or what I was really seeing. Was it an apparition? A strange trick of the light? Some mislaid soul performing a magician’s tricks of illusions? If you are indeed Jesus Christ, acknowledge me right now! At that precise moment, he turned toward me, made deep, purposeful contact with deep, penetrating eyes, and winked.
What the…?!?
I left my seat and walked quickly to the men’s room. This can’t be happening! But, hard as I tried to rationalize the seeming apparition I just beheld, something deep inside told me an extraordinary event was going on here. I just knew it.
I splashed cold water on my face, wiped it dry, and looked directly in the mirror. Everything seemed OK with my appearance. There was color in my skin, too much perhaps. My eyes weren’t dilated. My tongue wasn’t swollen. There were no visible signs of heat exhaustion or dehydration, and I knew I wasn’t drunk.
Pinching myself for good measure, pretending to make sure I wasn’t having a dream, I anxiously decided to return to my seat at the bar. As I regained the courage to leave the bathroom, the hair was raised on the back of my neck and goose bumps were spawning on my arms.
When I returned he was gone. So was the bright light under which he sat. The song was still playing on the jukebox. It must be an extended play. I breathed a large sigh of relief. Perhaps it really was just an illusion, a trick of the eye. I sat down and resumed my place near the corner of the bar next to Budd. He gave an innocent nod of his head and smiled. Feeling calm once again, I took a rather healthy swig of ale.
“Is this seat taken?” asked a voice to my immediate left.
I turned and instantly my eyes widened and my breathing stopped and my heart tried to leap out of my throat.
It was He!
Really He!
And now He was sitting directly beside me!
I dropped my glass. The beer spilled all over his garment. He didn’t flinch, nor get the least bit annoyed. Surprisingly, the glass did not break. Instead, it bounced off the floor, and, like a rubber ball, bounced high into His waiting clutch. Gently, He handed it to me. I looked at the stain on His clothes. As I watched in awe, the beer on His garment dried within seconds and the stain completely disappeared.
For what seemed like an eternity I couldn’t articulate a single word, much less a thought. All the while He just looked at me with calm countenance and smiled. Oddly, I was no longer frightened. Now, I was bewildered, awash in awe, trying to grasp the truth before me, trying to make sense of what was happening. Finally, my voice found its courage and I was able to speak.
“Are you…?”
“I am,” He quickly answered.
“You are who?” I asked with a voice still trembling. I didn’t want to appear foolish and invoke the name Jesus, lest He was a mere mortal and thought I was crazy.
“I am that I am.”
“The actual Son of…”
“We are all sons and daughters of God,” He kindly interjected.
In the very marrow of my being I knew it was indeed He, Jesus of Galilee, the Holy Messiah, the one who died on the cross for the sins of mankind. He was tall and lean with long brown hair and eyes of yellow-green. His skin was weathered and bronzed. His nose was bigger and His lips fuller than most modern depictions of Christ. I smiled faintly at the random notion that He bore no resemblance to Jim Caveziel, the actor who played Jesus in Mel Gibson’s acclaimed film, The Passion of The Christ.
“That was a lousy job of casting,” He quipped, obviously reading my thoughts.
Around His being was a discernible blue-white glow, as if, like a human firefly, He radiated light. His bright aura seemed to stretch and envelop me as well, bathing my spirit with deep, soothing feelings of calm and warmth, filling me with a great sense of peace.
I looked at His hands. The center of His palms bore the scars where metal spikes had once bound him to the wooden cross.
“Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” He said.
“What’s that?” I asked not knowing, my mind still mesmerized and awed by His presence.
“Do you know what I did for a living?”
“You were a preacher,” I answered.
“Before that. I didn’t start my ministry until I was thirty.”
“A shepherd?”
“Good guess. Most prophets were. But not me.”
“What did you do?”
“I was a carpenter. And I died nailed to a wooden cross. Do you see the irony?”
“Now I do.”
“Now you’ll never forget it.”
I resumed my examination of His physical appearance. Atop His head was the proverbial crown of thorns. Scabs of dried blood were present at the points of impact where the thorns penetrated His scalp. Why was He wearing it now? Perhaps it was just for effect.
“It is for effect,” He replied, again reading my thoughts. “I tend to be a little dramatic from time to time. It always gets one’s attention.”
He removed the crown from His head and flipped it like a Frisbee toward the front door. It whistled as it flew through the air, gently landing on the hat rack. No one in the bar seemed to notice what He just did. Not even the stranger beside me, who continued to stare admiringly at his beer. It seemed I was the only one who was aware of this divine presence.
“How can this be possible?” I asked.
“Anything is possible.”
“In Wyoming?”
“As I’ve preached many times, with the power of God nothing’s impossible. Or to use a twenty-first century colloquialism, ‘Impossible Is Nothing!’ That is the new Addidas slogan, is it not? Quite a clever twist on the old adage.”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
The smile vanished from His face. He looked down, then away. His shoulders dropped and His head hung low. The whitish glow that emanated from His being momentarily diminished, as if someone had lowered the fader switch on a lamp. He appeared distraught. Then He let out a deep sigh and raised His head to speak.
“I am saddened.”
“Saddened?”
“You might say depressed.”
“What is depressing you?”
“All that is going on in the world.”
“What in particular?”
“Misunderstanding.”
“I’m not sure I fully understand.”
“That’s my point. No one does. I am misunderstood, as are my teachings.”
I was dumbfounded. The message of Jesus Christ misunderstood? Christianity was the world’s biggest monotheistic religion. Millions of faithful followers lived by His word, some with great fervor. Some even sacrificed their lives in belief of His word.
“And the lives of others,” He added, the sound of regret in His voice.
“How so?”
“My teachings are of Love, tolerance, and selflessness. I preached the virtues of mercy and forgiveness. I spoke of eternity, of life everlasting. But over the centuries my teachings have been twisted, contaminated and corrupted by humanity. They have been stained by powerful, money-seeking bureaucrats, tainted by misguided clergymen who lost the way, entangled in a sickening web of religious and military alliances. Over the millennia, Man has used my teachings to murder and maim, to wage horrific wars and wipe out entire civilizations. Look at the Holy Wars, The Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and the Protestant Reformation that nearly tore Europe apart. And it still continues today in Northern Ireland and the Middle East. And in this country as well. Throughout history more people have been murdered in the name of Christianity than all of the conventional World Wars combined.”
He paused for a moment to let the anger that seemed to grow in him subside. Then He spoke in a tone of sorrow.
“I spoke of Love and man has since used my words to incite hate. I spoke of Giving and man has since used my teachings to validate taking. I spoke of Unity and man has used my message to divide. I spoke of Life and man has since used my name to justify killing and death. Indeed, I am misunderstood.”
He became silent. Still bewildered by His presence, and feeling incapable of consoling Him, I sat in silence, too. Glancing around the bar, I noticed that every one carried on as if it was business as usual, lost in what now seemed to be trifling worlds of gossip, pool-playing and drinking. They were completely unaware of the presence of the Holy One lamenting His sorrows in their bar. I wished I could think of something to do to help ease His burdens.
The bartender stopped by and I asked Jesus if He wanted a drink. His aura brightened. He nodded affirmatively.
“Hello Jennifer,” He said.
“Hi Jay. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to save the world.”
She laughed. I had the feeling that He was completely serious while she had no idea of the depths of His statement.
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