Maria birthed herself a baby named Jesús
José was pissed: “he don’t resemble me.”
so the kid was an outlier from the start, shunning toys and burro rides
“I’ve got bigger things in store.” he said
And that Jesús did.
“Mamá and papá, I’ve been anointed to think big”
José rolled his eyes, Maria just smiled, bringing some to-die-for Holy Mole to the kitchen table.
“My future is way beyond these sands of Sonora.
I am willed to start a mariachi blues band.
We’ll charge nothing and fill the plazas and bullrings with the sounds of the future.”
“I heard a messiah complex is spreading rapidly,” said José playfully. “So be careful, you know there’s no vaccine as yet.”
“Don’t you upset the cartel,” warned Maria. “Pilato is extremely protective of his gold, myrrh and frankincense trade.”
“Is your plan to live fast, die young and leave a good-looking corpse,” deadpanned José.
“Not at all,” said Jesús. “But my creations will last forever.”
José and Maria tried everything — conversion therapy, military school, a vegan diet, even heavy doses of amplified Lawrence Welk music.
However, Jesús was not to be sorted out.
You believed in him, or not. He didn’t need to reciprocate.
A calling is a march forward, no slowing, sidestepping, or deadliest of all, explaining.
In succeeding years, Jesús’ trumpet licks sharpened and song lyrics became trailblazing.
However, the status quo worshipping naysayers still taunted, “hey snowflake, can’t you find a halo that fits?”
But fans and a few groupies mostly stayed loyal especially when he produced wine and fish before the concerts.
“We are sound to the deaf, sight for the blind” was the band’s mantra.
Yes, Jesús and Los Discípulos (Juan, Pedro and Pablo) were vested.
“Selling what people can’t buy is the worst of all business plan” snorted José. “Hire a consultant.”
“I’m a prophet, and not for profit,” answered Jesús.
“Let’s be inclusive and be both,” quipped a light-skinned hanger-on from Texas nicknamed Joel, who smiled an awful lot and babbled of earthly riches here and now.
Jesús feared the amount of time Joel spent in the company of the money changers.
In his 20s, Jesús developed a tick of sorts, visibly shuddering whenever anyone in his company exclaimed, “nailed it.”
Even the best doctors could not reach a diagnosis, much less a cure.
One wizened and elder white-robed physician called for an invasive history-ectomy.
He soon lost his admitting privileges for such heresy.
Jesús sometimes misspoke, despite his great deeds of healing the lame.
As ‘time heals all wounds’ often came out as ‘time wounds all heels’
Many attribute it to intermittent dyslexia.
Because of this Jesús lost a fond friend, a foreigner named Achilles, who prided himself on his invincibility and returned to Greece in a huff.
Soon the blue shield-toting federales began taking a harder look at Jesús
His musical riffs had become incendiary, therefore dangerous, and international
His lore morphed into an equal union of Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata.
Then avant-garde Jesús suddenly disappeared.
The musical revolutionist joined the many thousands, especially students, women and campesinos, who vanished forever.
But the holy infidel mocked authorities with one last offering.
It was a criss cross with an upside down bebop major scale inscribed.
Carved at the entrance of a rundown desert amphitheater outside his hometown.
Try co-opting that.