Life Again – Bad Religion

Some of my very favorite people are Christians. That’s because we believe in the same Christ, as far as I can tell. But when we talk about God in this world, whether we know about Christianity of not, we have to acknowledge the fact that God seems very powerless indeed. There is a certain initial phase at play, the yin and the yang are at war, they are not parts of a whole, but the good God, dead, and the bad God, causing tornadoes and disease.

Imagine that you’ve lived one crazy fucking life.

You were a boring kid – arguing with Rabbis in a temple famous for pandering to the Senate of the Roman Republic. Well, who knows what things were really like back then. Did they crucify women and children? I imagine if they did, you would probably make sure not to have any; off them before the government got to them. When torture is your societies idea of order and a good time, awful ideas spring up for free.

Well, they failed to break you of that habit. After all, a Messiah was supposed to be ‘abhorred’ by their community. So, you turned water to wine, wore bearskins or something, clubbed a hydra. Smoked something bad and wondered through the desert like Homer Simpson, tripping balls while the devil told you to throw yourself from the cliffs, as if that would prove anything.

Next, you healed the sick and blind, said some nonsense about prostitutes and women with children, drowned some confused demons. And that’s the straw that broke the camels back. Or the stolen donkey, not sure which. You were turned in by your own religion, possibly out of fear, if not outright confusion. You were then tortured to death for being pretty cool. In your last moments, you said, “I commit my spirit.” You stood until you couldn’t anymore, if you were really committed. Fell asleep and jerked back awake until you failed to push/pull back up. The last thing you saw was the world through hellish glasses. Your crying mother and wife, their friend. Your brother. And everything suffocated right on the spot, peripherals fading, a crescendo of pain receding into deep unconsciousness. A heart throbbing to a stop.

This is what ‘people’ decided to do to you, and thousands, upon THOUSANDS, of others. That would probably be your first thoughts as you came back to life, atop the tomb that had so gracefully been allotted you.

I can hardly imagine how freaky that would be – “life” again.

I mean, think about it. You were just executed horrendously. And then, all of a sudden, you were back, walking around again. What if they caught you? What was going to happen then? Would they re-crucify you? Well, the story doesn’t leave much to the imagination. He could teleport now, and talk to everyone who watched him die. He walked straight up into heaven in front of them. That’s good. At least we don’t tell the story of how Jesus got crucified, came back, and then got crucified again.

Except it’s not good. No. Instead, we tell the story of how Jesus was a really accepting guy, died and resurrected himself, proving it, and then went to heaven, where he performed the most legendary, face-heel turn from the throne of God, and told everyone he had accepted before? To go fuck themselves. No really, read it and weep, in a literal fashion. This guy didn’t die, he was an unborn 6th dimensional alien fetus, taught a lesson for being such a good guy, and then (some-how) became the devil, sending the other prostitutes, magicians, and false idols to Hello where they belong. According to Paul.

At least no-one really believes in all that.