People often muse about where they might go or what they might do if they could travel back in time. You get the usual stuff... you know, shoot Hitler; tip Catherine of Aragon the wink that Henry was having a little mumble with some bint called Anne Boleyn; show up at Wembley Stadium at about 5pm on 30th July 1966 with VAR; have a word with Jackie Kennedy to tell her husband, ‘it’s definitely going to rain later, darling, so let’s put the bubble top on the limo before we do Dealy Plaza,’ and maybe tell the driver to put his foot down as he passes the grassy knoll.
All good stuff, I guess, but me, I’d go back to 31AD to the Sea of Galilee. Once I was there I’d ask where I could find this Jesus geezer. As soon as I’d been pointed in the right direction I’d introduce myself...
“Hi. My name's Paddy. I’m not from around these parts... I’m from, uh... the future. But I guess you knew that. Phew, warm here, ain't it? I wish I hadn't worn these jeans. Anyway, look, sorry to interrupt your mission. I can see you're busy with these... err... multitudes, but I wanted to see if I could get five minutes... I mean, a chat that is. Sorry, I know you and these twelve good guys don’t have watches 'cos they ain’t been invented yet. Anyway, it’s important.”
Now, Jesus, being the good geezer he was who made everyone welcome, would give me the time of day, so then I’d say...
“Mate, I’m right on your programme. I agree with everything you say including that camel and eye of a needle thing, which probably confuses some... it had me puzzled for a while, I must admit. As for 'love thy neighbour,' yeah, I get that. I s'pose I’m more used to saying ‘your’ but I get thy mumble. And the poor will enter the kingdom of heaven, I get that too. And I know you're not dissing the rich when you say that, not like they do back in... I mean, ahead, in my time. I guess they got just as much chance as the poor to getting in if they, you know, lead a decent life. But, look, sorry, I digress, what I really came for is to ask a favour.... please.”
I am sure Jesus, with his incredible patience would allow me to make my request and I would. So, I'd say my piece...
“Look, for Christ’s sake... shit, sorry... I didn’t mean anyth... hang on, maybe that’s right... for your sake, don’t ask Pete over there to start a frigging church! Trust me, they'll create all sort of power dynamics with priests, bishops and all types of charlatans making out they speak in your name. And... and you know what, they’ll take everything you said and twist it and use it to control people and, frankly, take their money off them in return for doing bugger all! They will threaten people with damnation, indoctrinating little kids, making them fearful. A guilt trip. Making out that your... your, erm... well, God will punish them and cast them aside for eternity if they don't do what they say. That’s what’s happened to your message. These people have taken it and used it for their own ends, for power and to control the poor suckers that you're trying to remind about fundamental basic human decency. That's not what you wanted, is it?”
Then I’d take a breath, worried that I’d hijacked a sermon on the mount or something and then I’d say...
“Another favour, my friend, if you will. See this bottle of water? You couldn’t dish it up as a nice Chablis, could you? I could use a drink after that lot.”
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