I Have a Hole in my Side

I had surgery today. My mom's dermatologist recommended it, she thought the mole/freckle that i have had all my life constituted a serious health risk. However, staring down at the bandage as i sat outside on my parents deck at 2 in the morning i could not help to bring to bear my extensive theological background on the subject.

After the Son had been hung on the cross, the sabbath was coming up, and it was the Roman custom to pull down Jews who were being crucified for the occasion, or at least help them die a little faster. So they would break their legs, giving them nothing to push up with, allowing the slow process of suffication to work a little less slowly. However, they had to check before willy nilly bone breaking, so they peirced our boy jesus in the side to see if he would perk up. He had already accused his father of forsaking him, and then come to peace with the whole thing, so he was dead . . . or was he!?!?! (sorry, that might have been insensitive).

Now, i don't pretend to be the eternal redeemer, not by a long shot, but getting stabbed in the side is no picnic, and i most assuredly did not have water pour fourth from my wound. But whenever you bring christian symbolism up before an Bachelor in the Art of English Literature, there is quite a bit of checking in that he must do.

I have been stagnant, content (something Gesu wouldn't have been too pumped up about) living day by day, unaware when things should start or stop, because i have neither started nor stopped in awhile. I used to be able to mask it because i didn't have the constant reminder that living with one's parents portends. My life is made up of nothing more than Las Vegas reruns and whatever prime time shows my parents DVR, mixed in with a deep analytical look into the upcoming NBA season, with an overzealous amount of fantasy football thrown in. I have gained a significant amount of weight on my already overwrought frame, i haven't read a book in months, and i go days without changing out of my pajamas.

How am i going to bring these points together, you ask? How will i bring disparate points rambled on about together just in time for an entry saving conclusion in just under the word count expected? I graduated people, i have put in my 10,000 hours that malcolm gladwell evangelizes.

I am not Jesus, yet i have a hole in my side. I am not Jesus, therefore i cannot save humanity. I am not Jesus, so i don't particularly want to. However, maybe i can be my own Jesus, my own cosmogonic hero, my own sacrifice. I realize i skipped the majority of the crucifixion, but i also came out the other side decidedly more fully human and less fully divine. I have to sacrifice to atone for sins, but my life must be my own sacrifice. I must sacrifice the life of static that i lead in order to atone for my own sins. And when the stone is rolled back from in front of my tomb, i need to emerge as resplendent as the real deal Jesus, and expose my side before any Thomas who dares to doubt my resurrection. 40 days would at least be a step in the right direction.