NOTE #1: When I stepped on the 1 train this morning, I soon discovered I was standing right next to a Jesus Guy. Like most subway panhandlers, this Jesus Guy was smart enough to start preaching only after the doors had closed and the train began moving. Although it’s not really accurate to call this guy a panhandler. He wanted no change, only a few moments of your time so you could be informed that you were going to hell, and why.
He was not a rant-y rave-y Jesus Guy. (Once a ubiquitous feature of the New York landscape, the Crazy Jesus Guy has all but disappeared from our midst.) He spoke in measured, mellifluous tones buoyed by a West Indian accent. I had headphones on, but I was listening to a podcast, so I was catching about every third word that came out of his mouth.
The train paid him little mind. Subway crowds seldom give Jesus Guys the time of day, but this one seemed to aggressively ignore him. This is not a good week to be a Jesus Guy, what with the postponed Apocalypse. It was like he was selling Y2K insurance on January 1, 2001. Nothing this guy said (that I heard, anyway) indicated he was on board with the Family Radio Ministry theology, but simply being in a subway car at this hour preaching at people on their way to work implied he might be.
As I said, I missed most of his sermon until one line stuck out at me: “I have the mayor’s son coming over to my house.” I think he may have prefaced this by saying, “Let’s imagine,” or something to that affect, as if he was relating a parable. But since I didn’t hear that part, it sounded like he was describing an actual impending visit from the mayor’s son.
“I have the mayor’s son coming over to my house. I am going to prepare a feast,” he said. At that point, the train had pulled into a station, and as soon as the doors opened, he beat a hasty retreat into the car behind us–mid-story! You finally piqued my interest, Jesus Guy, and then you bolt because you got a tough crowd? You’ll never play the big rooms with that kind of attitude, Jesus Guy. Now I’m left hanging, wondering where that story went. What did you serve the mayor’s son? Did you serve cordials afterward, or just coffee? So many unanswered questions.
NOTE #2: As I wrote in this post, there’s this odd dichotomy amongst the millennial Christian set, in the sense that they seem to want the world to end because they think it’s so rotten, and yet they also vote in droves for people who they think will prevent the world from ending. But I wonder if a politician could capitalize on the opposite instinct. What if you actually declared yourself the Antichrist and promised to bring upon the Biblical Apocalypse?
There’s a million variations on what the Apocalypse would entail. But if you believe that it’s coming and coming soon, you also believe it is ultimately a good thing, because it will end Satan’s grip upon this planet and bring Jesus back and, I dunno, make more puppies or something. So wouldn’t the person who pledged to make the Apocalypse happen be the best person to elect? In other words, shouldn’t you want The Antichrist to come to power?
Believers, I’m sure, would counter, The real Antichrist would never openly declare himself as such. Okay, so how about some enterprising young politician works on molding himself into a vague resemblance of The Antichrist as described in the Bible? Then, people will subconsciously vote for him hoping that in so doing, they will hasten the day when they will be assumed into heaven?
Any politicians who want to steal this idea, I will gladly accept a minor position in your Satanic cabinet.