Christ on us all

I have never been religious in the commonly accepted sense of the word. I have my own spiritual beliefs, sure, but I have enough sense to keep them to myself, and I've never been one to bandy God's name about as if he just stopped by to borrow some CDs or something. On the other hand, I don't believe in sacred cows, if you'll allow me to mix mystical metaphors for a mo'. Whatever else I believe, I'll tell you this: I'm pretty sure the Big Guy has a sense of humor.



My unique perspective on the Almighty was not appreciated when I was growing up. My Mom, while not precisely churchy, was a big believer in Old Skool Jesus. (You know: the one in the Kangols and the fat-lace Pumas. "Jesus Krist -- K's for the Kaaangols that I wear...") My best friend and partner in crime while I was growing up was Jewish, and so not overly impressed with Jesus and his entourage. So it was only natural, given our innate silliness, and my disrespectful 'tude, and her non-Christ-oriented background, that we would offend my mother's sensibilities at some point.



It started innocently enough, as many '80s highjinks did, with "Crocodile Dundee." Sarah and I were sitting around my livingroom, watching "Crocodile Dundee" on our VCR for about the hundredth time and feeling bored, when she remarked, "This movie is boring. Christ on this movie."



I looked up from my enormous bowl of popcorn and said, "Christ on the what? That doesn't make any sense. That's not even the right way you're supposed to swear."



"Why not?" Sarah said. And so it started.



The scene changed, and we were looking at a cityscape. "Christ on that building!" I said.



"Christ on that bus!"



"Christ on that hooker and her plastic bust!"



"What if Christ really did come down-"



"-on a cross!"



"Whump!"



"And smashed everything!"



"Whump!"



"Christ on YOU!"



We were in sacrilegious hysterics.Finally, my Mom came in and asked what was so funny. Being a total idiot, I told her.The rictus of false mirth that stole over her face then is best described, not seen. It took years off my life, I'll tell you.



"Jennifer, can you come in the kitchen for a minute." I followed her into the other room. Ten feet away, by the way. Sarah could hear everything.



Her voice dropped to a hiss as soon as we were alone. "I think you're treading on mighty thin ice, missy," she said.



"Why? Because we made a joke?"



"A joke about JESUS. If I were you...I'd be a little nervous, that's all."



"What about Sarah? Is she treading on thin ice?"



"Sarah is Jewish."



"So it doesn't count? That's ridiculous. Either it's wrong for both of us, or it's wrong for neither."



The conversation ended shortly after that, but despite my sassiness, I didn't have the heart for the joke any more. I was nervous about that thin ice, and my immortal soul, and a Jesus who might not like my sense of humor...and I still am. But here's the thing...I still can't resist. Christ on you!