“Meo-o-ow,” the kitty protests loudly when Jesus kicks it away from the blue garbage bin.
Jesus is not particularly proud of what he did. That’s not what Jesus would do. On the contrary, any other time Jesus would be overly kind to homeless animals. But not today. His heart, once brimming with compassion, is now stuffed with revenge, having little to no space left for mercy, let alone care for stinky street cats.
To him, Ade was the father he never had, and watching Ade die before his eyes has been a shock that Jesus has yet to recover from, if he ever will. Half of his beard and part of his hair is charred in the fire that took Ade’s life. The marred burns are still fresh on his face and hands. They need medical attention or otherwise, soon they will be infected. But before treating the wounds on his body, Jesus has taken his wounded heart out here for a treat.
Jesus turns and takes another look at the tall church that gloriously stands across the sidewalk. It looks down at Jesus like a giant that is about to lift its feet over Jesus and tread him down. What does it take to construct such an architectural masterpiece? How many poor souls slept the long winter nights on hungry stomachs to pay for what they presumed to be a display of God’s glory? How many lives had been squeezed between those stacked-up bricks? And today, the draw fell on Ade, their latest sacrifice. A legendary, true father died so that Father Kelly can maintain his self-proclaimed title. What a waste!
The vicious cycle shall stop here and now. Jesus will respond to aggression with aggression. It might not be exactly congruent with the life philosophy Jesus was inspired with from the heavens, but in consideration of Ade’s tragedy, exceptions can be made. After all, standing up against the tyranny of evil is a good deed as a whole, and the overall righteousness justifies a few left turns. Doesn’t it? Yes, it does. It certainly does.
Jesus peers at the church but sees nothing except Ade trapped in the engulfing fire. Sitting motionless like a Buddha statue, Ade doesn’t say a word as if the roaring fire consuming his body alive can never touch his soul.
“Let’s do this,” Paul says from behind reassuring Jesus with a touch on his left shoulder.
The vision of Ade ablaze overlaid on the church fades away, but the image of the fire persists, hinting at the destiny that awaits this sacred opium den that puts laypeople’s consciousness into sleep. “Let’s do this,” Jesus repeats Paul’s inspiring words as he glances back at his best friend. He’s grateful for having Paul by his side to help him navigate these challenging times. Paul, who was his first follower, now has grown into an exemplary leader of the awakening. Protesting against the church was actually Paul’s idea. If nothing else, Paul’s transformation is a testimony to the truth of Jesus’ mission. He is my miracle; he’s my proof, Jesus thinks proudly.
Paul opens his palm and offers his hand.
Jesus doesn’t hesitate even for a second to accept his best friend’s helping hand as he climbs onto the wobbly open-top garbage bin, teetering on the edge of stability.
Jesus begins. “Compassion is the basic instinct, forgotten and forsaken.”
“Yeah, I doubt if they could hear you,” Paul says.
Jesus shouts, “Forgiveness is the ultimate cure, neglected and abandoned.”
“Louder, dude. Louder.”
Jesus gazes at the Gothic arched door of the church, and in an instant, the image of Ade’s charred face flashes before his eyes. A stream of tears runs down his face. With his rage reignited, he inhales deeply and screams at the top of his lungs, “You don’t need God’s forgiveness. You’re the one who should forgive God. Come. Come, my victim friends. Come join me outside, and let’s forgive God for…” Jesus chokes on his sob. After taking a hard swallow and a few deep breaths, he regains his ability to speak. “…for what He has done to us.”
Jesus is different today, Paul thinks. The tragic death of that blind broadcaster, Adekola, has transformed Jesus to become mean and somewhat aggressive. The eyes of once merciful Jesus are now burning with revenge. And this is Paul’s opportunity to harness the runaway force and use it for a good cause. Protesting Father Kelly’s church was actually Paul’s idea. But it was not hard to convince Jesus, given the traumatic state that he was in.
As Paul expected, his buddy is doing a miracle. Jesus’ heartfelt screams of agony draw the naive churchgoers out of the church and into the churchyard. Instead of becoming mass-brainwashed by the bullshit masses of that pervert priest, they watch Jesus howling their repressed pain on their behalf. Even Otto, Father Kelly’s nephew/pet, has come out at the front, watching Jesus with passion and curiosity.
Father Kelly bulldozes through the crowd, thrusting people aside as he makes his way to the forefront. With his wide eyes reflecting his disbelief, the so-called man of faith watches Jesus standing tall on the trash bin, screaming at the madhouse masked as a church. “That crosses every line of decency,” Father Kelly growls through grinding teeth, agitation seething within the contorted lines of his face.
Paul smiles. Be mad, priest, and die from the madness.
While his eyes are shooting flames of anger at Jesus, the gold crown on Father’s canine teeth shines through his eerie smile. What evil is going through his head now?
Tracing Father’s glare, Paul turns to Jesus to ensure he’s OK.
Jesus’ unsteady feet are trembling. With the slightest nudge from the devil, Jesus would plunge into the depths of the garbage bin. Having no regard for his own safety, however, Jesus continues, “Pray no more, my children. Time to answer God’s prayers. Time to forgive. Let’s forgive Him for the pain and agony that we are born into.”
Growling like a blood-thirsty jackal, Father Kelly marches toward Jesus, his fists clenched. Little he knows that Jesus has a protecting angel, watching him from the corner.
Paul swiftly steps in, blocking Father Kelly’s lunge toward Jesus. With crossed arms, Paul becomes an immovable barrier, rendering the priest powerless against his tall, youthful frame. I’m no longer afraid of you, priest. How about that? To irritate him further, Paul nonchalantly chews a pretend gum while looking down at the man of the cloth like he would at a pile of shit wrapped in a pristine cloth.
Father’s contorted visage becomes even more twisted, a fusion of anger and fear etching deeper lines across his features. Taking fragile steps backward, he bumps into Otto.
“Sorry, Father,” Otto says.
Father Kelly gulps, takes his eyes off Paul, and turns back to Otto, inaudible words exchanging between them.
Paul steps closer, intent on discovering the evil plan being schemed against Jesus. Just as Father turns around, Paul swiftly extends his hand, his middle finger erected behind Father’s head. Paul always hated Father Kelly, far more than he ever hated the church, which haunts his most painful childhood memories. He stopped going there shortly after his puberty. This was the time he realized the church is in the way of what he loves the most in this life; what he was gifted with; what he was born to do.
Father completes his turn toward Jesus, only to be confronted by Paul’s erect middle finger defiantly thrust before his eyes. With his face flushed with fury, Father Kelly bites down on his lip, turns back to Otto, and mutters, “Yeah, at first, when they’re only a few. Harmless and even kind of cute. But the harm starts when the cult grows big. And this asshole is set to grow enormous.”
“You want me to call the sheriff?” Otto asks.
Paul inches closer to hear better.
“No, that wouldn’t do,” Father Kelly replies, stroking his chin.
“So, Imam Zahid again?”
“We need to do something worse. Something much, much worse.”
Otto squints, rising on his tiptoes as he leans closer, his ear hovering near Father Kelly’s mouth.
Father Kelly whispers a string of hushed words, their meaning lost in the air. Shoving the churchgoers out of his way, he retreats back into his church.