Summary

The narrative recounts a humorous and candid dinner conversation between the author and Jesus Christ, focusing on the state of the world and humanity's role in its current condition.

Abstract

In a whimsical and satirical tale, the author recounts an unexpected visit from Jesus Christ, who arrives for dinner and engages in a frank discussion about the world's issues. The conversation touches on the misuse of religious figures for personal gain, the challenges of environmental sustainability, the generational divide in addressing global problems, and the seeming inaction of divine powers in the face of human suffering. Despite the gravity of the topics, the story is laced with humor and casual blasphemy, as Jesus and God communicate directly with the author, expressing their frustrations and hopes for humanity. The author also reflects on personal accountability and the collective responsibility of society to improve the world.

Opinions

The author playfully criticizes the commercialization of religion, referencing TV preachers and their luxurious lifestyles.
There is a sense of frustration with the current state of the planet, particularly regarding environmental degradation and social issues.
The author suggests a lack of maturity and effective strategy in the younger generation's approach to solving global problems.
The narrative conveys a critique of the older generation's resistance to change, as seen in the "Not In My Back Yard" (NIMBY) attitude towards progressive solutions.
The author humorously points out the anthropomorphic and sometimes comical depiction of God's laughter as thunder.
There is an underlying belief that despite the current challenges, there is hope for improvement and that divine beings have a vested interest in the fate of humanity.
The author implies that individuals and society as a whole bear the responsibility for the world's condition and must actively work towards change.
The story ends on a light-hearted note, with Jesus Christ suggesting a game of cribbage, indicating that despite the seriousness of the issues discussed, there is still room for camaraderie and leisure.

I Broke Bread With Jesus, And This Happened

The last thing I expected to do over the weekend was have dinner with Jesus Christ. He showed up on my doorstep unannounced, but he brought wine. How do you say no to a guy who turns water into wine and brings it to dinner?

I told him to come in and waved him into a chair. I grabbed his bottle so I could decant the wine. No sooner than I emptied his bottle, I noticed it was full again. I looked at him and said, “Really?” He smiled and shrugged. “Sorry. It’s an old habit.”

“If you’re hungry, help yourself. Dinner won’t be ready for a while,” I said, putting a plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table.

“I could have brought some bread,” he said.

“The last time you brought bread, it was unleavened and a bit dense.”

“For my sake,” Jesus said, raising his voice. “It was Passover.”

“Yeah, bread and your never-ending bottle of wine. It’s like going to Olive Garden. My wife was pissed at the mess we made,” I said.

“I didn’t make the mess. You’re the one who got drunk.”

“So what brings you here, J C,” I asked, changing the subject. “Fundraiser for the church?”

“No. I wanted to stop by and say hello, maybe chat about some of your prayers.”

“Oh. HE sent you,” I said, shaking my head.

“Bruce, you have to think about what you’re saying. You know, prayers go straight to him.”

I walked into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee before we drank too much wine — again, thinking, “what the hell does He want now?”

“I heard that,” J C yelled from the living room.

Jesus finally came clean on the reason for his visit: the world.

“Is He looking for another schmuck to build an ark? I gotta tell ya; I can’t nail two pieces of wood together without fucking it up.”

“No, no. He’s done the ark thing. Look around. It didn’t work too well, did it?”

“Can’t some of these TV preachers help him? Copeland and Duplantis would probably do it for a lux aircraft.”

“For my sake, we both know they’re going to hell when they die.”

“Stop taking your name in vain, Jesus.”

“Dinner’s ready, boys,” my wife said from the kitchen.

“Thank God,” I thought.

With a crack of thunder, I heard overhead, “You’re welcome.”

“Dude, we can both hear you,” J C said, a bit irritated.

Dinner was a pot roast with carrots and potatoes. Thankfully, it was big enough for three people — especially when one is unexpected but always welcome.

Jesus being Jesus, admitted he was hoping for fish. That’s why I like this guy. He’s always honest. Still, I had to needle him.

“So maybe you should do the bread and fish trick and feed the neighborhood,” I said.

“Shove it, Bruce. If you took the time to read the gospel according to Luke, you’d know that was necessary.”

“Whoa, J C. What’s got your robe in a knot?

He sighed and looked to the heavens. “Can I be frank with him?”

From above, I heard,” Go for it, son.”

Jesus sighed. “OK. Here goes.”

“Do you know how much you people are screwing up this planet? I’m not even talking about religion because no one will be left to worship a pile of dirt.”

“Well hell,” I thought to myself. “J C’s not wrong.”

“I heard that,” he said.

“Me too,” He boomed from overhead.

“Will you two stop that? You’re freaking me out!”

I composed myself and said, “Look, I know it’s a problem. You know it’s a problem. But somehow, you let business and governments thumb their noses at the peasants. They count their cash and laugh all the way to the bank.

When are you — I looked up, YOU too, going to do something about it? You gave us a balding, Oompa Loompa to run the show, and look what happened. And don’t get me started on the politicians who enrich themselves.”

I heard a belly laugh from above. “Don’t worry. I’ve got something for his ass when he gets to the pearly gates. He sure as hell ain’t getting in.”

“And in the meantime, what,” I asked.

Jesus reached out, touched my hand, and looked me in the eye. “Look, there will be some pain for the time being. But it will get better.”

“I’ve got news for ya, J C. There’s plenty of pain to go around. Look at the number of people going hungry without a place to call home, racism, crime, and Capitol Hill. “What the actual ….”

“Uh uh,” I heard from overhead. Slow your roll, dude.”

“Sorry, God. I got carried away. My apologies to you, as well, J C.”

J C waved his hand, accepting my apology.

“Don’t let him off that easy, son,” He said from above.

“Can I go on,” J C asked?

“Go ahead.”

“We have a generation of young people ready to take action. But they’re not yet — I hate to say this — mature enough. They’re passionate, brilliant, and willing to go to the mat for us. But they haven’t yet figured out how to deal with your generation,” J C said.

“Sure. They’re too busy insulting us by calling us boomers. I freely admit this is our fault,” I said. “But I dare say many of us KNOW we’re killing the planet. We know families are going hungry or need a place to live. But when we come up with something viable, the NIMBY crowd starts pissing and moaning.“

“We get that,” J C said. “Those people will join the Oompa Loompa when the time comes.”

“On that subject,” I said, trying to ease the tension, “how much more time are you giving me on this marble? I really love this place.”

J C and He laughed.

I looked up and said, “Do you know it sounds like thunder when you laugh?”

“Yeah. It’s my little joke.”

“No offense, but you can be a weird guy sometimes,” I said.

“None taken.”

I looked at J C. “Are we done?”

“For now,” I heard overhead.

J C cleared the table with a wave of his hand. “Who’s up for a game of cribbage?”

I accept tips, which go directly to Dining for Hunger, a recognized 501(c)(3) organization that looks to end food insecurity. If you can spare a dollar or two, I’d be grateful.