The Jesus Bunny

Here it is coming on Easter and I haven’t thought about Jesus at all. Well, that’s a bit of a lie. I’ve thought about how and why one man in history came to absorb so much symbolic power and resonance and command the piety of millions upon millions of people across the country for centuries. I find it a bit ironic that what by today’s standards would be considered a liberal, hippie hair-farmer who’s always harping on about the underdog and for, well, Christ’s sake, supports hookers, lepers and sinners, is lauded by the Christians who disparage those same qualities in someone protesting at a peace march or lobbying for single-payer healthcare.

Why has Jesus captured the hearts of so many? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think he was probably a really cool guy; probably told a good joke and was one of those friends who had a way of making you feel good about yourself no matter how fat your butt or bad your hair that day, and probably got on your case when you were self-deprecating, reminding you that you had to love yourself first and all. I’ll bet Jesus could make farting sounds under his armpit and even short-sheeted a few straw palates in his time. I’ll bet he was like your favorite uncle or charming older cousin.

Buddha and Mohammed were apparently quite charismatic and convincing too, though, so how did Jesus win the popularity award? Or do Christians just seem to talk louder and carry bigger sticks? (Please don't get on me about the mid-eastern terrorists thing okay? I'm not talking about fundamentalism, just garden variety religious practices).

Never having had the, uh, luxury, of being raised religious I can only speculate. I never got inculcated with a love of God or a holy spirit or drank the blood of Christ or got baptized. The few times I’ve sat in church were either with friends, or for weddings. So I know I’m not exactly the best judge of what makes someone holy, but tomorrow around the world people will be celebrating the resurrection, right? Isn’t that what Easter is about? I’m not sure what the eggs and the rabbits, or for that matter the marshmallow peeps and my favorite—Cadbury’s cream eggs--have to do with Jesus’ alleged resurrection, but hey, just call me sacrilegious.

I think I have a healthy respect for life, and my fellow human and though my sense of humor is a bit crooked, and I like irreverence as much as the next heathen, I wonder if any Christian can really refute my belief that to worship the gorgeous hillsides or the tiny shoots of daffodils that come bursting through the dirt this time of year is any less holy than worshiping a man, who probably would have preached—in my fantasy—that worship of nature is possibly the wiser path.

At least it's warm in hell; I hate being cold.

:)
JPR