First Crucifix

After weeks of work Saul took a seat and allowed himself a moment to admire his craftsmanship. He smiled as he turned the statue in the light. In his hands was a wooden figure of a man with an enormous pot belly, shoulder-length hair, and an unkept beard. The engraving at the bottom read, “Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

Now that his figurine was finished, Saul intended on taking the bust to the museum in the next village over. It would likely be a long journey, probably well over a day’s walk. And yet that didn’t bother Saul one bit. He always dreamed of people traveling from all over to appreciate his work, and bear witness the Messiah as he was during his final moments. 

Saul began to tidy up his workspace when he heard a whoosh come from outside. Then, moments later, there was a knock at his door. Saul was slow to open the door. He never got visitors this late in the day. When he opened the door, there was a man standing there. Who, at first glance, looked familiar. He was about the same height as the Messiah (measurements he knew well due to his figurine being to scale). Though this man’s body was much more rounded, particularly in the stomach region. His eyes were covered by black blinders and hair shot out the back of a billed headpiece he was wearing, with the words “Houston Astros” embroidered on it.

“Hello,” he smiled, scratching at his beard. “I’m looking for Saul.”

“That is me,” said Saul, taking a step back from the door.

“Perfect,” said the man, adjusting his robe. He cracked his neck and stood up straight. “I’m a local art dealer and I’m in the process of acquiring some new pieces for an upcoming art show.”

“Local art dealer?” asked Saul, adjusting his gaze to the tiny huts behind the man. “Only ten people in village. People barely understand concept of art.”

“Right, right,” muttered the man, scratching at his beard. “Well I’m, uh, local somewhere else. I was just in the neighborhood and I was curious if you had any art you’d like to have appraised.”

“Actually,” said Saul, his smile returning. “I just finish new piece—”

“Awesome,” said the man striding past Saul into his home. 

The man made his way towards Saul’s workbench and picked up the crucifix.

“Let me guess, Jesus?”

Saul nodded proudly; he was happy someone discovered the statue’s likeness so quickly.

“You know him?” asked Saul.

The man nodded, “We grew up together, same village. Super cool guy.”

“Wow. You know him well then, yeah? How does figure look?”

The man examined the crucifix for a moment, running his fingers along the ridges.

“It’s not bad. The work speaks for itself,” said the man holding the statue at arm’s length. “But Jesus was definitely more toned than this.”

Saul gulped, “Toned?”

“Yeah, like you could tell he worked out pretty frequently, but not to the point where it was, like, obnoxious, you know?”

Saul’s face grew red. Had he really portrayed The Messiah so recklessly? He walked over and held the statue for himself. 

“The messiah, he had bread belly. I sure of it. Everyone poke fun. They say, “There goes Jesus Crust.””

“Wait, what?” 

“Messiah good guy and all, but he have power to make any bread he want, you know? Not to mention power to turn water into wine,” shrugged Saul. “So, you know, it add up.”

The man removed his blinders which Saul could now see had an engraving upon the glass that read Ray Bans. The man took the crucifix and sat down on a nearby stool. His eyes narrowed.

“What are these little wooden beams on the back?”

“They’re weight reinforcements for crucifix.”

“They’re what?”

Saul could hear the judgment in the man’s voice. Beads of sweat chased one another down his forehead.

“The messiah, his weight, it too much for regular crucifix so Romans attach beams to crucifix to hold him up. Took, like, three hours. Very anticlimactic.” 

“I’m sure other people probably needed the beams too—”

“Actually, it just Jesus. I hear one Roman say it first custom made crucifix. Normally, it just two boards. Pretty simple job. Not for Jesus though.”

The man rubbed his eyes as he let out a hefty sigh. 

“You know I was there too, and I don’t remember these ‘extra beams’ or the ‘bread belly’ or any of this other stuff.”

“I do not remember you there,” said Saul.

“Oh, and you remember everyone that was there, do you?” 

Saul shrugged and gave a nod, “Everyone RSVP in town center.”

“You RSVP’d to Jesus’ crucifixion?”

Saul pointed to a flier on the wall. Above a poorly drawn image of Jesus, not too unlike Saul’s crucifix, were the words, “Crucification of Jesus of Nazareth, and Other Outdoor Activities— BYOW.”

“BYOW?”

“Bring your own wine.”

The man groaned, “Look, all I’m saying is this isn’t how I remember him and I was his closest friend.”

Saul was sure he had not seen this man at the crucifixion. And yet he was torn. The man seemed to know Jesus quite well. And the last thing Saul wanted was to incorrectly portray the Messiah, especially while his closest acquaintance was saying otherwise. Saul walked to his desk and picked up a quill and a piece of parchment.

“Okay,” Saul said, turning to the man. “Then you draw the Messiah.”

The man’s face lit up for a brief moment, then quickly sunk as his eyes met the floor. “Me? I mean I guess I can try and take a swing at it. You know, if you want?”

“Yes, I want.”

The man sat up and scurried over to Saul’s table and went to work sketching. Only a couple moments had passed then the man turned to Saul, smiling.

“There,” he praised, holding the drawing out for Saul to see. “The Messiah.”

Saul’s mouth fell open. 

“Where is stomach... Where is bread belly?”

The man grinned and pointed with the quill.

“There was never a bread belly, see? You can’t have a bread belly if you don’t do carbs.”

“Don’t do carbs?”

“The Messiah was on a no carb diet. Which normally would be pretty annoying when everyone goes out to eat, but he never made a big deal about it. That’s what made him such a great guy.”

Saul stared at the sketch. He shuffled, dragging his feet over to his bed, and sat down. His shoulders and his head slumped.

“I have shit on the Messiah.”

“Hey, hey, don’t get upset, okay? Just think of this as a first draft,” said the man, picking up the crucifix from the workbench. “Anyone can forget a couple small details. It was a long time ago, after all.”

“You did not forget. Look at difference between yours and mine. I mess up on size of penis. You give him large, almost horse-like penis and I give him below average-size penis– just as I remember.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” chuckled the man. He cleared his throat as he sat up, holding up the crucifix. “No one’s seen this one right?”

Saul gave a small nod.

The man sighed in relief. “Then don’t worry. All you have to do is fix this one up and make it more like that one,” he said pointing to his sketch. “No one will ever know.”

Saul’s head perked up, his shoulders raising.

“Maybe I make it so that people don’t think he cried during the whole thing.”

“Wait, what?”

“That he was strong, and didn’t wet himself–”

“He ‘wet’ himself–”

“It was just some stupid rumor,” said Saul quickly.

The man pushed the sketch against Saul’s Chest. “Just do it like how I drew it.”

Saul held the paper before him, studying it, “And you sure this is what Messiah look like?”

“Absolutely, and hey, don’t worry. This time I’ll check your work,” said the man, winking.

Saul gave the man a big smirk as he picked up the cross. He strolled over to this work bench and got to work.