You Are the Messiah!

A knock on the curtain of your hut jolts you out of a strange dream. With half-open eyes, you mumble for your parents, Mary and Joseph, to answer it. When the knocking starts up again, you remember that today is the day your parents were taking your younger brothers and sisters to watch a group of harlots get stoned to death. You’ve got the whole day to yourself!

You jump up from your bed of dust and rocks and take three steps forward – passing through the living room, kitchen, dining room, and foyer – to the front door of your family’s tiny hut. Pulling back the door curtain, you see your best friend, Simon Peter Timothy, excitedly jumping up and down.

“Jesus, Jesus!

He’s yelling and pulling your arm.

“Put on your swimming robe and let’s get going! We’ve really got to hoof it if we’re going to make it to the River Jordan by noon!”

That’s right! You forgot that you had planned to go on a double date with Simon Peter Timothy and a couple of girls at the river today. You change out of your sleeping robe, throw on your sandals, and head out the door. Before you leave, you scribble a note on some papyrus for your parents in case they return before you do.

It reads:

“Gone fig hunting. Fear ye not, for I shall return very soon.

Love,
JC”

“Wait a minute. We’re going on a date? Like with girls? My parents would crucify me if they knew we were doing this,” you tell Simon Peter Timothy as the two of you begin the long trek across town.

“Jesus, you’re thirty-two years old,” he replies. “You’re not some little baby boy away in a manger anymore. Besides, it might be worth getting in trouble over. I heard that your date, Mary, flashed her bare shoulder to some boys behind the youth synagogue last week.”

For a moment, you fantasize about Mary’s naked shoulder hanging out for all the world to see, but then your thoughts drift back to the time your parents caught you preaching in the temple when you were a teenager. They sure were sore about it, and you don’t want to disappoint them like that again.

Gee, that seems like so long ago, you wonder.

And indeed it was, roughly 20 years. Oddly enough, you can’t remember much else that’s happened in your life, before or after that day, but you’re pretty certain that you haven’t preached anywhere ever since. Lately, though, you’ve been having these weird dreams that you were a preacher, and a darn famous one at that…

Simon Peter Timothy slugs you in the arm. “Don’t worry about your stuffy-ass parents. You’re so naïve! You honestly believe that your parents were virgins when they were your age?”

“My mom definitely was. I think she still is,” you say.

“You’ll be fine. You need to live a little, dude.”

He’s right. But then again, Simon Peter Timothy has a knack for making you ignore your responsibilities, which is one reason why your parents don’t like you to hang around him. Another reason is that he’s a filthy Gentile and you’re Jewish.

You relax and the two of you continue on your way.

Later, you are both thirsty and exhausted from the intense mid-day heat and from swatting at the swarms of flies and gnats that follow everyone around all the time.

“Sheesh! Are we having another insect plague or what?” Simon Peter Timothy asks, frustrated.

“Maybe people are falling behind on their sacrifices to Jehovah,” you offer.

As you approach the river, you notice that it’s a lot more populated than it usually would be on a day like this. A crowd is gathered along both sides of the riverbank, watching a man who shouts and splashes about in the waist-deep water.

“Aw cripes! That John the Baptist dude is out here baptizing people again,” Simon Peter Timothy laments. “That guy’s bat-shit crazy about baptisms.”

You don’t see any sign of your dates in the dense crowd, so the two of you decide to watch John the Baptist scream and dunk people’s heads underwater for a while. As Simon Peter Timothy looks for a good seat on the muddy bank, you walk down to the river’s edge for a quick sip of water.

“Hey! You with the beard, robe and sandals!” a voice shouts.

Every man in attendance (including you) starts looking around, pointing at themselves, and asking, “Who? Me?”

“Yeah you!” the voice answers.

Finally you follow the voice to its source and see that it’s John the Baptist and he’s pointing right at you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“You look like you need a real good baptizing! Get your filthy, unbaptized self out here and let me baptize you!” he screams.

You don’t like the idea of taking a dip with this freaky-looking guy in front of all these people. He’s wearing a smelly old camel skin vest and an oil slick floats around him in the water. Plus, you’ve heard stories about how he eats uncooked worms and rubs wild honey on his head to attract bees to live in his hair.

You glance back at Simon Peter Timothy and he gives you a knowing smile that says you have to do this. Others in the crowd urge you to go on, too, so you kick off your sandals and slowly wade into the river.

“You know, John, I think my parents baptized me when I was a baby. But I don’t really remember,” you mumble.

As you draw closer to John, he recoils and begins jerking about spastically.

“I knew it! It’s you,” he bellows. “The Messiah! My Savior!”

“What? Uh, you must have me confused with somebody else.”

“No, it’s you, Jesus!”

“How do you know my name?” you ask, officially creeped out.

“Because you are the one true Son of God,” he cries. “I’ve been prophesying about your arrival for months. And now, finally, you have come to baptize me!”

The crowd gasps at this. You stand crotch-deep in the dirty water, feeling awkward and not sure what to do.

He wants you to baptize him now? If you do that, it will be the talk of the town for weeks and your parents will surely find out about it. But if you don’t do it, everyone might think you’re a wiener.

Either way, you’re already out here, marinating in this dude’s funky bodily fluids, and that double date is looking less and less like a possibility at this point.

If you baptize John first, turn to PAGE 10

If you decline and insist that John baptize you, turn to PAGE 46