At this point, it becomes necessary to explain what God has been doing while his son was roaming through Judaea. God, after all, is the main character in this story. He was there on page one, and he’ll be there on the last page, and after all, he is God.
You see, after returning from getting his gambling addiction treated, God entered a severe depression. The Roman Empire was taking over the world, and Zeus, now called Jupiter, was becoming more and more impossible to be around. There was just something about being worshipped in the four corners of the known world that made a god highly conceited.
We’ve seen that God wasn’t exactly the brightest spark in the campfire but underneath that thin layer of almost annoying stupidity, there was a very creative core. Who else would have thought of putting the bomp in the bomp-she-bomp-she-bomp? So when he started getting depressed, he did what he needed to do to get through it, stir things up on Earth and then sit back and wait for the latest Nielson ratings to come in. Possession by the devil, people getting buried alive, yes it sounds exactly like Days of our Lives, but God was the first person to do it. And as he sat on his cloud with a bowl of hot-buttered popcorn, he watched his son Jesus make his way from one corner of Israel to another, stirring up controversy, and therefore publicity, wherever he went.
But Jesus wasn’t all about controversy. He was also a left-wing liberal reformer, and one day, he gathered together all his disciples, and everyone else they could find, and they all went up onto a mountain. Jesus then gave a sermon that was to have far-reaching ramifications.
“Blessed are the non-males, for theirs will be the dominance in both public and private spheres. Blessed are the non-whites, for theirs is the affirmative action. Blessed are the vertically-challenged, for they will never bang their heads on a doorway. Blessed are the non-Anglo-Saxons, for theirs is the capability for establishing minority protection groups. Blessed are the non-heterosexuals, for to them goes the gifts of fashion-sense and rhythm and creativity. Let us pray.
‘My Daddy, who is in Heaven, hallowed are thy halls. Let me come home. No? Thy will be done. I’ll win us a kingdom, to rule on Earth like we do in Heaven. Please grant me something other than daily bread, and prosecute all trespassers. Lead us not into corduroy, but deliver us from retro-fashion, for yours is the wisdom, the power and the glory, and by the way, I haven’t got my allowance yet this month. Amen.”
With those words, which would be edited slightly before being recited in churches around the globe, Jesus and his disciples decided that the time was near when they should be going into Jerusalem, as Passover was only a few weeks away.
Passover was a big deal for the Israelites, similar to the way TGIF would be a big deal for ABC. Back when the Israelites were captives in Egypt, they were passed over by the Angel of Death when she was on her way to kill all the Egyptian firstborn. It was almost as much in celebration of being saved as it was rejoicing in the bloodshed of their enemies that led the Israelites to celebrate Passover annually.
This year, 33 AD, in the Reign of His Honorable Grumpiness Tiberius, Passover was scheduled during the Easter long weekend. Suffice it to say, the road to Jerusalem was hopping. Well, crawling anyway; lepers, blind beggars, other assorted cripples all crowded the road once they heard Jesus was doing housecalls along the way.
Up in Heaven, God was having a great time. Every person Jesus healed was a new convert. Of course, most were the same stubborn Jews who’d been worshipping Him, on and off, for millennia, but the Jews might tell the Romans, and if God could steal a legion or two from Jupiter, it’d allow him to show his face again at those decadent Roman parties. I mean, he’d thought Sodom and Nineveh were good (er, bad that is), but Rome had it all, from incestuous orgies in temples to skinny dripping in the Tiber on a mushroom-induced hallucinogenic trip to Hell and back; since Lucifer was currently redecorating, hell wasn’t such a nasty place to visit. Not that you’d want to live there of course. Just a good place to work on your tan.
Not too far from Jerusalem was the town of Bethany. Jesus and Friends knew people there: Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus. Lazarus was one of those special few Jesus felt totally comfortable around, so even though Passover was barely a week away, they stopped over at Bethany for dinner. Besides, Lazarus threw really great Easter parties.
But when they arrived, Lazarus was three days dead, which cast a bit of a cloud on the party. Jesus, though, was never one to admit defeat, especially when it came to parties. Blink the water to wine, snap the anchovies off the pizza, and when necessary, bring back the host.
So they all went down to the tomb and Jesus shouted, “Lazarus! Come forth!” When the tomb remained silent, the crowd around Jesus began snickering, wondering just how much of that wine he’d been consuming. “Lazarus! This is Jesus. Come on down!”
-This isn’t the Price is Right son- God spoke in Jesus’ head.
-Dad? Is that you?-
-Yes. What do you think you’re doing?-
-Resurrecting Lazarus-
-You know I only get one resurrection a year, and we did kinda have this one booked-
-I know but…-
-No buts-
-But…-
-Jesus Horatio Christ. Don’t make me come down there!-
-But I already promised all my friends! Dad, don’t embarrass me-
-Son, son, son. What am I going to do with you? You know what will happen now right? You bring back Lazarus, then I have to go find another resurrection somewhere. I only know Zeus won’t share. He’s never played well with others-
-I’m sure it’ll work out-
-Fine then. But if you stay dead next Sunday, you have no one to blame but yourself. Goddam kids today…-
Then God’s voice tapered off and Lazarus came walking out. They smelled him before they saw him. “You have any of that perfume left Mary?” Jesus asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Which Mary?” a voice asked. “Mother, sister, or whore?”
“Whore.”
“Yeah sugar, I’ve got some.”
“Goddam woman! I told you to sell that!”
“Shut up Judas!” Jesus snapped. “It’s grown tired. Don’t you have something to do anyway?”
Judas glared at Jesus then stalked off. Bloody self-righteous King of Kings, he swore to himself. Flaming Prince of Peace can kiss my hairy butt. I’ll show him. I’ll show them all!
Judas laughed maniacally as the cartoon devil on his shoulder told him exactly what to do.