From the “Now, I’ve Seen Everything Department”.
So, I couldn’t sleep because Morpheus skipped my house—again— and mockingly refused me slumber, I went a-blogging, to check out the competition. To see what’s up. You know, if you look, you can find the weirdness you seek.
On this night, I was looking for stuff and I found a site selling Jesus action figures.
He’s rough–he’s buff and he’s doing real dare-devil, He-Man stuff not ever even attempted by that boi of butch brawniness, Race Bannon, the sexually ambiguous , yet rather ponderous factotum of a one, Dr. Benton Quest. You know, Johnny’s dad.
Here’s Jesus now, scoring a GGGGOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL for God:
At first I thought someone at the We Are Fishermen website (or maybe it was a blog) was actually lampooning the Lord, but I soon realized this wasn’t the case. These are real, by God action figures in about seven or eight different poses displaying various acts of machismo prowess and selling for about 30-bucks each.
Here’s Jesus as what I call the “Big Christhoona”, hanging ten….as in commandments.
“Thou shalt NOT wipe out, Dude “..
You gotta wonder about the crass commercialization about the man perceived as the “King of Kings” by more than a billion Christians.
Years ago, when I had just graduated from college, a friend and I were in Laredo staying with a very Mexican, very Catholic family. There were crosses everywhere, in every room and these weren’t just crosses; I’m talking Jesus in full crucifixion reproduction, complete with the guilt inducing nail wounds in the hands and feet and dripping blood.
My friend and I shared the bedroom and as soon as the lights went out, my very Protestant roomate looked up and said “Oh my God!! Jesus’ eyes are glowing!”
I looked up and he was looking at me.
I had this strange desire to get up and wash my hands.
I’m all for anyone believing in anything that gets them through their life. I can’t and won’t cast aspersions. I mean, my life could make Mary Magdalene look like a saint.
Wait….she is one, right?
But gee Wally, shouldn’t taste, decorum and propriety coming into play?
I’m not sure what form of “action” the above figurine is supposed to represent. I see this particular Jesus wearing a white trench coat, camo colored Capri pants, Doc Martens and what appears to be a pith helmet by his right leg. His crown of thorns appears to have been replaced by a wreath of lovely Jonquils.
The dove must be the requisite wise-cracking sidekick.
Maybe this is “Fashion Faux Paux Jesus” and he patrols the runways of Milan, Paris and New York looking to save fashion victims from themselves. He flies up and down the streets of Hell’s Kitchen where flop houses reign supreme. If he gets in a jam, he and Doug (his trusty sidekick dove) throw down the pith helmet and it immediately converts into a Goldfinger mini-plane, flown by???? You guessed it—–Pontious Pilot.
(Thunderclap, a lightning bolt and I repent…..)
Teetering on blasphemous and sacriledge? Maybe, but I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with these action figures, what I’ve written or Glow-In-The-Dark Jesus, for that matter.
I am, as the ubiquitous “they” say, a recovering Catholic. But I’ve learned more about spirituality just trying to live my life more than anything taught to me by the Mother Church.
I know that faith is an extraordinary thing. WEspecially on those occaisions when I didn’t have it. It is powerful beyond comprehension. And in this day and age of avarice and greed with disappointment usurping joy at just about every turn, if we don’t have faith, we don’t have hope and if we don’t have either, then why bother?
The bigger question then becomes, why would we want to? If we need to use tools (rosary beads or Mary statues adorned with flowers in our front yards) to help us fortify our convictions, then I ask–why the hell not?
Look, I can’t remember when the last time I went to Mass, but I can tell you the date and time I had my last conversation with God….my God. And I know that the God I worship, has a sense of humor. He gave us the ability to laugh because well, it is ALL of His design.
So, whatever floats your boat.
Or forces Michael to row it ashore. Halle–lu–ooh–jah.