Jesus

I'm reading Lamb by Christopher Moore. It's the story of Jesus' life, and the twist is that the entire tale is told by Christ's best friend, Biff. (Yes, Biff.) Jesus is Joshua and Mary Magdeline is Maggie and John the Baptist is a loon. They speak in a combination of Bible and ghetto. There are the requisite angels and miracles and magi and diciples and apostles, and while you're never really sure what's going to happen next, I'm quite certain that in the end, Josh will die on the cross. It's funny that Christ's life isn't documented beyond his childhood. It interests me to hear versions of what his life might have been like. I can't stop thinking about the book.

And this book comes to me at a time in my life where I'm pretty sure that at least 80% of organized religion is a bunch of hocus-pocus. I believe in God. I think the bible has important lessons about life and history in it....along with a lot of hooey. I believe in living by the golden rule and the ten commandments, but frankly, that's as far as I'm willing to take it until further study. I mean what does it say about us as a nation when middle-aged white evangelical christians are responsible for electing W to a second term in office?

So tonight, answering a timid knock at my front door, a nicely dressed, well groomed woman, smiling of course, greets me with, "Oh my, I almost didn't hear you open the door because I was admiring the grouping of your porch furniture. It's absolutely lovely." Swear to God. Heh. Turns out God sent her to my house. She was telling all the good folks in my neighborhood about a bible study to be held blah blah blah, yadda yadda.

If I had owned Lamb and not borrowed it, I would have given it to her; right after I cut her off with, "Sorry, not interested," and right before I shut the door.

Jesus.