A Modern Tale

The disciples are gathered behind locked doors. Not only are they afraid, confused and feeling abandoned, they are belly-aching about Jesus’ poor choices. He didn't have to die. He had other options. He was even teased about being rescued by heavenly hosts. They complained that they’d left their businesses and families, not what the hell were they going to do?

Without warning, Jesus stands inside the door, in the room with them. Many thoughts go through their minds. “Oh, crap did he hear what I said?” “Is he going to call us foolish little ones, again?” “How’d he do that? The door was locked, wasn't it?” “Levi must have forgotten to lock the door when he came back from the restroom?” “Maybe it is like on one of those soap operas and a character thought dead, two years ago, suddenly shows up again.” “Is that really you, or some Jesus impersonator?”

Jesus smiles and says, “I guess you all are wondering why I called this meeting. Get another cup of coffee and have a seat. We have some serious strategy planning to do if we are going to pull this company out of the vortex of the great white porcelain. Who now has the treasury since Judas jumped off the cliff or hung himself? The news accounts aren't clear. Did anyone gather his blood money? That will come in handy during the transition. You will remember, we already worked out a succession plan. I’m sorry James and John, but you were too eager to move to the head of the table. I have already designated Peter as the successor. By the way, Peter, you need to watch your back. In the future a guy who will go by the name of Paul, will have a much better public relations gimmick. It will look, for all the world, that he is really the top dog. Now, let’s getting this meeting started. I want to start with some out of the box brainstorming. Who will go first?”

Bartholomew speaks up. “Well, boss, I think we need something big and flashy, jarring even, to indicate we’re not dead although you are. We all know that the Feast of Weeks is coming up in fewer than fifty days. The town will be filled with celebrants. What if we had a laser light show which looked like tongues of fire, an HD surround sound of a rushing wind, and we all go running into the streets speaking in different languages. Using Rosetta Stone courses we each could learn another language in a couple of days.”

Thomas interjects, “If I didn't believe the boss was resurrected how are others to believe it, even with such a big PR event as Bart suggests?”

Another asks, “Say we pull off this big event, which will blow our bank account, then what? We’re still a small band. Jesus, you were our front guy. It is like the Rolling Stones would not be able to survive without Jagger. I’m not particularly interested in joining a tribute act in the future.”

The boss speaks. “Guys, guys, listen! What if I were to tell you that centuries from now motley lots like you will still be around? They will gather in the far reaches of the earth, places you could never imagine. Our work will carry forward. There will be peaks and valleys along the way. Some gatherings will be very large and others quite small. Taken together they will be called, the Church. I will forever be both the corporate head and CEO. Through you and after you, our work will continue in such huge ways that if I told you about them your minds would explode. Now, get out there and get to work. Oh, Bart, that was an interesting idea. Let’s see what we can do.”