Corpus Christi

Corpus Christi: (n) the body of Christ

I suppose they thought it was extremely clever, to manufacture a rubber bodysuit—bruised, beaten and bloodied.

When they made the movie, “The Passion of the Christ,” they had their actor don this monstrosity of an outfit, believing it would convey the suffering of Jesus on the cross.

It is a classic case of over-kill.

To understand the true indignity of the sacrifice of Jesus of Nazareth, you must step into an operating room in a hospital and breathe in deeply. The smell of funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
blood will rattle your nostrils. It is a nasty odor, meant to be foreign to our consciousness.

Perhaps you want to go on the scene of a horrible car wreck and see the blood still pouring out of the wounds of dying people to understand his situation—there was no time for clotting because the beating continued and the blood was pouring forth, dangerously leaving the body and threatening death long before he was nailed in the hands and feet.

Perhaps if you were around someone bleeding to death and you heard their screams of thirst and realized they were in agony just from the lack of water…

As always, Hollywood dramatizes but never actually captures the drama.

The most tender, gentle man who ever lived, who healed lepers, hugged children, granted women equality and offered love as an alternative to the futility of fear, was beat to a pulp by religious people who thought they were acting in the name of God.

May we learn from that image: Corpus Christi—the body of Christ—which was ravaged by the self-righteous.

May we quietly, humbly and reverently realize how the stupidity of hatred, lying, cheating and self-promotion continues to murder him today.

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dictionary with letter A


Angel: (n.) a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger from God, typically represented in human form with wings and a long robe.

Perhaps the accusation could be made that I am a soul who is susceptible to suggestion.

  • For if I watch a television show about weight loss, I become determined to pursue at least twelve hours of frugal eating.
  • Viewing a football game makes me want to toss the old pigskin.
  • And going to church makes me want to believe in a God of love, a Jesus of compassion and angels of mercy.

While others debate the existence of divine creatures, or even become vehement in their attacks or defense, I find this boring. Here’s what I think:

If there are no such things as angels, then we should pretend to be them.

If there is no Jesus who loves children and touches the lepers, why not impersonate him?

And for some reason, if God does not exist–a Father which is in heaven for the human race–then maybe it might be nice, in a small way, to comfort the fatherless.

Religion, to me, is not believing in the supernatural, but instead, taking the natural world around me and trying to do something super with it.

Will I be disappointed if I find out there are no angels? Not really–because I’ve read enough about them that I can steal their profile and try, in my miniscule way, to be angelic to my fellow humans.

Wouldn’t it be interesting if it turns out that the key to life is how well we imitate good things, and that our little performances actually become the only representation of the heavenly tale? Weird, huh?

Anyway, I think angels are cool–proclaiming messages of hope, helping out folks who are hungry, having a good word for those in despair, and arriving at just the right moment to do the right thing.

Since angels are cool and I like to be cool, I will continue to take on the role to the best of my stumbling ability.

Likewise, I will be a big, fat bald Jesus to those I meet.

And if necessary, I will come down from a theological perch of understanding and offer my shoulder to those who are crying … just like any good god should.



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