DEATH BY JESUS

Among the many, many self proclaimed Christians around here, there is one most special breed that is a plague upon human existence.

They’re not your usual proselytizers, the low lifes who would cram their personal beliefs down our unsuspecting throats. These guys are bad enough. You know the kind, the man or woman, boy or girl who wants to ‘bear witness’ to his faith always at the wrong time and in the wrong place. The checkout line at any local supermarket, for example, a classroom, the middle of a football game, bed.

Yes, damn it, bed. And don’t ask!!!

No the biggest pain in the ass has to be what might be called the ‘holier than shit’ christian, a man (or woman, usually) who lives her life in such a way that every detail of her being goes in to demonstrating her total devotion to the cause of showcasing her own piety.

She is usually middle aged, slender to the point of gaunt, rarely if ever takes a drink, refuses to play cards or indulge in other unseemly activity. At home she rules her family with a tyrant’s silken glove, controlling a compliant, long suffering husband and up to three children with large dollops of maternal guilt.

The Southern family unit has been ruled by its women since the Civil War. Johnnies went marching off, many never to return. Mama then took over the household reins and never let go.

Ben Hawkins was saddled with one of these women in his family. Not exactly his immediate family, because he had married into it. His mother-in-law, the wasp-wasted Lorna, fifty-five and a tyrant with a penchant for flowery, draped, somewhat sheer silk dresses, walked through life with the hand of Jesus himself on her left breast, so close was she to her savior.

She used to fantasize about him. Always in secret, of course, for nobody could possibly understand her intensely personal feelings for the son of god. As she grew older and her children began fleeing their mother’s domination, she turned more and more to these quasi mystical, imaginary visits from her precious Jesus. With increased frequency came added intensity. Lorna started having wonderfully auto-erotic experiences. And these on a daily basis.

Her Jesus was special, of course, he was garbed in a long robe with nothing save his obvious masculinity beneath its folds. He would sit on the edge of her bed or lie next to her at which point she let the mind games begin.

Now the Jesus of Lorna’s reverie was your classic blue-eyed, clear-skinned northern European type, cleansed all suggestion of Semitic origin and swarthy complexion.

Lorna’s Jesus was pure WASP….white, anglo-saxon protestant. Neither he nor his ancestors had ever lived in the hot Middle East.

The family was oblivious to the true nature of the woman’s fantasy. Most, Ben included, thought of her as a whacked-out religious fruitcake. But harmless.

Now Ben like his cup o’ kindness. Bourbon, of course, he a true Georgia boy. And one day after an afternoon seminar at a favorite watering hole he decided to walk the several miles to his home and soon found himself in a strange part of town, walking, and, since the day was still young, doing a bit of window shopping.

And he found it in a shabby little corner store window, He realized he had been searching for this very thing for years. Two feet tall and dressed in African Garb stood a ceramic statue of Jesus Christ, his features, his color clearly African American.

“I must have it,” mused Ben. And five minutes later he walked out of the store statue in hand, armed with directions to a familiar part of town. He was soon home.

Two days later Lorna awoke from a nap, walked the few yards to her mailbox, and found a package wrapped and tied like a birthday present.

Returning to her living room, she sat on a prized antique couch and opened the gift. It took a moment for it had been enclosed by alternating layers of masking tape and tissue that completely hid the nature of the beast.

Holding up the now naked statue up to a window’s light, she stared at it a moment, let out an entirely lady-like, stifled scream, and keeled over quite dead from a massive coronary.