Think of the possibilities!
Easter Sunday becomes a day when children dressed in their Sunday Best camoflauge outfits excitedly hunt for rainbow-colored ammunition hidden in the yard by Rambo Rabbit. Church this Easter morning celebrates the good life made possible through God-given superior firepower. Up the hill, a local monastery heralds the day with the cracking sounds of full-auto assault rifles. Above the entrance to their monastic gun store hangs a sign, “The Lord helps those who help themselves…to the right caliber.” Unfortunately, pilgrims will be out of luck if they decide to come out to the monastic shooting range/gun store/gift shop after enjoying a wild game Easter brunch. They’ll likely find that all the prized icons of Charlton Heston and Wayne LaPierre have sold out.
But in this universe, it’s not so much Easter that counts as much as the celebration of Good Friday, the day after Jesus and the boys had gone to the Garden of Gethsemane to arm up with a hidden cache of firearms and explosives provided by the Old Man, who wanted to make sure His Boy showed everyone who was really boss. Because, after all, isn’t that really how the world works?
Forget Caesar crossing the Rubicon. It’s best to remember this other history: the Gospel of the Battle of the Kidron Valley, where Jesus and the twelve launch a surprise attack from the Mount of Olives, completely overwhelming the forces coming out from Jerusalem to arrest Jesus. (Twelve, you ask? Yes, indeed. Judas doesn’t bug out, since this is what he really wanted). Jesus, Judas and the other disciples slice and dice the Roman guard and the Temple police with a withering line of fire from their Tavor TAR 21 assault rifles, along with a couple of strategically placed .50 cal. Browning M2’s. (Did I mention that the Tavors had been outfitted with 40mm grenade launchers?) The Roman guard and Jewish police adopt the “Run away!” strategy, only to run into a field of Claymore mines. The scene is so nightmarish that sentinels in Jerusalem’s Roman tower send word to Pilate, who watches the firefight and decides what any sane person in antiquity might: the Gods have unleashed a heavenly fury, and they have sided with that rag-tag bunch of Galilean Jews and their scruffy leader. The Jews have also been hearing and watching what appears to be a cataclysmic event and have decided that the avenging Day of the Lord is at hand. Zealots join together with regular men who all pour out of their dwellings armed with whatever sharp instruments they can find. In the ensuing chaos, a Roman soldier makes his way through all the blood-letting and delivers a terse message to Pontius Pilate, one that Jesus himself had snarled into the soldier’s ear: “Surrender now, or I wash the streets with your blood!” Pilate, a truly dull-witted and brutish sort of ruler, decides to hurriedly make an atoning sacrifice and then fight to the death with everyone in the Roman garrison. The battle ends a few hours later when Pilate leaps to his death from the Southwest corner of the Jerusalem wall. His broken body lies for days in the valley of Gehenna, and people come again and again to watch the carrion come to pick away at his remains. Yes, friends, this day was indeed a Good Friday.
This is the alternate universe, NRA-style Good News of Judah’s liberation from Satanic Roman rule under the leadership of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth, who ruled over a reunited Israel for 40 years in ways that kept Israel’s neighbors nervous and deferential. An ancient relic of the age was recently excavated. It appears to be an example of common home decor, a scrolled plaque, stained with what seems to be blood. It bears a simple message, which when translated from Aramaic roughly says: “An armed society is a polite society.”