The Man Jebus

 

God created heaven and the Man, and God said it was Good.  And the Man Jebus came down from the mount, and upon all the children of Israel he layeth his hand and said, Thou shall not use the Bible as a doorstopper, nor wipe thine behind with its pages, for the text is sacred like the drool of a baby.  And the Man Jebus sang Hallelujah, and all the children sang with him, that all the Angels in heaven might hear, and their slaves in bondage as well, burning in the flaming pits of Hell. 

Now there was a woman the Man Jebus visited, in the land of Goshen, deep in the heart of Egypt, where Joseph and the Pharaoh had sent his humiliated brothers.  And the woman asked the Man Jebus, Where art thou roaming, faithful servant, aren’t thou the bread of life which the Lord hath baked?  And the Man Jebus replied, Silence woman, for the grain is ready for harvest, and I have yet to gather my sheep.  They are vilest who sin the least, that I may teach them without having a purpose.  So sin away, my child of the grain, let your temptation be your guide. 

And the woman sinned for all eternity, spreading the word of the Man Jebus, so he became richly employed in the art of preaching, as His father had intended.  The more his sheep sinned, the greater became his profits, making him wealthy enough to build towers to the sky.  And when the towers were completed, he scaled the highest of them all, that he may sit with his Father in the Kingdom of Heaven. 

And that is the state of the world today, the sinners left unpunished, the Lord content with the results of the Man Jebus’ teachings.  Man toils away in darkness, flattened by his debts, slaves to his moral bankruptcy, lifting on his back the Holy Hierarchy of the Seraphim.  There are no reckonings, no judgment days, no Armageddon, only the Apocalypse already witnessed, the disgrace of mankind’s sheepish exile.  For sheep they are, always conforming, always standardizing, always wanting more.  And the Man Jebus condemns them, oh yes, he condemns them all, for the fruit is ripe for picking yet they know not where it is. 

And today the Man Jebus came down from his high castle, to revisit the Holy Land he once illumined, marveling at all the blood spilled upon it, all the suicide bombings, all the evidence of racism festering in its sewage.  And the Man Jebus came to a little child lying on the ground, arm broken from a blast, crying for its mommy through the smoky air.  And the Man Jebus said, Come child, come back to us, for We are the makers of music, and We are the manufacturers of pain.