Gospel from the Summit of Mt. Sacrilege
I had a friend named Jesus. He was kind of strange, never really went for chariot races or gladiator fights like the rest of us. One day he went out into the desert and must have been gone for days, because when he returned, his hair had grown long and his beard tangled.
I don’t know exactly what he was doing out there but I imagine he must have gone mad with starvation, because his eyes burned like fire, and he said crazy things, like that he’d been tempted by the devil and how he was the son of god. I assumed he meant one of the minor gods, because he couldn’t do anything major, like fly or control the weather, just a few party tricks, like turning water to wine.
I thought he’d gone mad, but everyone else seemed to buy it. The more he spoke, the more they knelt before him and offered him their possessions. Admittedly, I felt jealous about all of Jesus’ attention. So I hiked into the desert for several days and came back just like he did, saying to everyone, “I’m the son of god. Listen to me. I’m the son of god.”
“No you’re not,” said a crowd of citizens, circling around me. They pointed to Jesus. “He’s the son of God.”
And I said, “No, he’s not! He’s Mary and Joe’s boy from down the road. I’ve known him all my life!”
And they said, “Nah-ah-ah. Mary had a little hanky panky with You-Know-Who, just like Leda and the Swan, Europa and the bull, Leto and the partridge.”
“Fine!” I said. “And what form did Zeus take this time?”
The mob frothed. “This God ain’t like Zeus. He don't take the form of an animal. He’s a concept.”
So I said, “Old Joe got cuckolded by a concept?”
That’s when my friend Maggie with the dirty mind whispered in my ear, “I heard He took the form of a tidal wave breaking on a glassy sea. I wasn’t there, but they say it rattled the walls and kept the neighbors up all night.”