Sexy Jesus

I OFTEN WONDER IF, AS I COME NEARER TO DEATH, 'Will I embrace religion?' (will religion embrace me?). As a child I used to get dragged around to all these prayer meetings/events/trade shows. I have a very sketchy memory of a biker getting up and telling his story of redemption. It all began at the pit of his lowest point of his own moral pendulum swing. Addicted to drugs and women, he closed his eyes while sitting on his parked Harley Davidson and just as he was about to be killed by oncoming traffic, Jesus (or a force) lifted both him and the bike to safety and he found himself now on the sidewalk beside the road. These stories repeat themselves over and over as disfranchised people look for forgiveness or a sign or perhaps a devil to blame.

I also remember 'Jesus 76'. It was like an outdoor music festival all about Christ. I remember seeing people get baptized and speak in tongues and I myself faked speaking in tongues to see what might happen. I was scooped up in a cruller of Christians and lifted, blessed and given mass approval. (Years later my sister confessed to have instigated the same experience that weekend).

Religion seems to give structure and adds comfort where it's needed. I'm no Christian. Was an alter boy as a 11 year old much to the pride of my mother and grandmother who tried to foster my christian roots with comics about Pope John Paul II (SEE BELOW).



. . . And another piece my mother found at a Saint Vincent de Paul shop.



That said, I'm always very curious about Christ depictions. They say so much about the world.