The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy by Duncan Whitehead Page A

liked to have taken a peek at my file. I was naturally horrified to learn that “the committee” felt it necessary to make this their first priority in their dealings with me. Furthermore, it was inconceivable to me that my natural father, who had been had been away for thirty-two years and had practically abandoned me, critiqued me almost immediately! He had a file on me! A file! I felt the need to vent some of my views on this whole subject.
    “Hold on a minute. Walter, Dad, God, or whatever I am meant to call you.”
    “‘God’ is fine; ‘Dad’ is okay too, though I prefer ‘Dad’ or ‘Father,’ even.”
    “Ok, ‘Dad,’ I have a question.” I wasn’t sure if he caught the sarcasm.
    “Shoot,” said God.
    “Did you really tell my father to sleep with Marla?” It was playing on my mind. I felt he needed to answer that one. I realized I had the opportunity to ask God any question I liked, but the masturbating thing had gotten my hackles up. I felt I needed to make a point that he also had some traits that were, should I say, a little questionable.
    “I’m your Father,” said God. He was stalling; he knew what I meant.
    “Ely,” I said.
    “Ah, well, that, erm, well, I may have implied it was probably an option. Look, I felt sorry for the man. You know how your mother is once she gets an idea in her head. Listen, I did him a favor. I can’t believe you’ve even brought that up. Why have you? Has he said something?” God sounded annoyed.
    “He has mentioned it,” I replied.
    “Well, he was a willing participant; you can’t put it all on me. Ely is his own man. I hope he wasn’t complaining. I am sure he wasn’t complaining at the time. He didn’t need to tell you. I told him he was safe.” God was becoming defensive. “I am a bit disappointed Ely said that.” Not wishing to incur God’s wrath onto Ely, I dropped it. What was done was done; however it gave me an inclination into what I could be dealing with. I felt I had had made my point. The man had abandoned not only his son, me but by his own admission, he had abandoned the rest of mankind for the last thirty years as well. On top of it all, he had at best aided and abetted my father in an affair, or at worst, organized and orchestrated the whole thing! I pondered for a few seconds.
    “Ok, I’m letting that one go. I am not happy about it, but I am letting it go. I won’t mention it again.” However, I did have another question that ate at me. “Why us? Why me? Why Ely and Irma? I really don’t get it. Why a Jewish couple? Why not Christians? Surely Christians would have been better.”
    “Good questions,” said God. Hopefully, I would get a good answer.
    “And?” I prompted God for a reply.
    “You have to remember, things up here were not as organized as I would have liked them to have been. We have a large turnover of administrative and support staff, and sometimes things get left to the last minute. I assure you that things have improved lately. I am sure I mentioned new innovations, and it is definitely not as bad as it was. But back then? Wow, those were chaotic times! It was a bit rushed; sometimes you mean to do something but keep putting it off and putting it off until the next thing you know, a deadline is looming. To be honest, we all got our years mixed up. I thought we had another year to plan this, but it was Saint Eligius who pointed it out; ironic, really as he is the patron saint of clock makers. Anyway, it was Eligius who made us aware we were out a year. So, as you can see, we were rather rushed to get you consummated.” I didn’t see. But I didn’t interrupt.
    “Eventually, we found ourselves in a bit of a pickle,” continued God.
    “A pickle?” I asked.
    “A jam,” said God.
    “A jam?” I asked. Why God felt the need to refer to food stuff I was not sure. I knew what he meant, I was merely trying to point out that “jam” and “pickle” were not really the terms I would have used when