To celebrate another year of Jesus Christ dying for everybody's sins, the hometown Israelis and Palestinians wiped the slate clean and promptly continued shooting and killing each other. What I'm trying to figure out is if these "people of destiny" are using religion to justify their violence or violence to justify their religion.

I saw a few folks standing at the edge of busy street of San Mateo (Saint Matthew) this weekend with crosses and pictures of fetuses. I don't know if it's just the constant barrage by the anti-abortionists, but I'm pretty desensitized to bloody fetuses. As I cruised by in my car, I thought to myself "That bloody fetus doesn't look so bad. I bet it could find good work in a jar at freak show circus."

I hear some Catholics are questioning their faith due to the priests who molested little boys. How brave of them to consider independent thought.

Our president thanks God, blesses America, and calls for a more spiritual public. He also calls nations evil, threatens war in the Middle East, and taxes our European friends. Didn't Jesus tell us to do unto others as you would have them do unto you? I guess that means America will be considered evil, Middle Eastern countries will threaten war, and our European friends will tax us.

See my eyes? I can hardly see. See me stand? I can hardly walk. I believe you can make me whole. See my tongue? I can hardly talk.

On Easter, women put on their Easter dresses, and men donned their Easter suits. I drove past a church that looked very similar to a shopping mall. It had parking lot attendants directing traffic in and out of the Christian Mall. They were hustling the C & E Christians through, so everyone could put a little cash in the plate. The upkeep on shopping malls isn't cheap.

On Easter, I wore an old blue shirt that had several holes from continued use over the years. I don't get rid of it because the longer I own it, the more experiences I have wearing it. In every social situation I encountered that day, someone inevitably commented that my shirt was full of holes. I nodded in agreement and replied "It's my Holy shirt." Some people chuckled, some smirked, some grumbled, some said nothing. You may go places for being clever, but it won't be very far.

See my skin? I'm a mass of blood. See my legs? I can hardly stand. I believe you can make me well. See my purse? I'm a poor, poor man.

Back in college, I fancied myself as a poet (among other things), and I got one poem published. It was entitled "Upon Realizing I am not the Second Coming of Christ." Not a bad bunch of words, but I couldn't help thinking that the only reason it got published was the swanky title. If I changed my name from Chris Jungle to Jesus Christ, would it give the columns I write more validity? Less validity? Void of validity?

Just because life enjoys to contradict me, I became Jesus Christ my last semester of college. The teacher of my one and only acting class was putting up a production of the Seven Stages of the Crucifix at some Presbyterian church in NE Heights for Good Friday. She asked if I would play Jesus, and I accepted. I basically walked in, got strung up on the cross, mouthed a few Latin lines while the choir sang, and slowly died for the Christians for about a half an hour. For those thirty minutes, I was the second coming of Christ. I have written very little poetry since then.

Will you touch, will you mend me, Christ? Will you touch, will you heal me, Christ? Will you kiss, you can cure me, Christ? Won't you kiss, won't you pay me, Christ?

A couple Jehovah's Witnesses came to my door last week. They knew a friend of mine had died recently and asked what I thought happened when we die. I said that when we die, we're dead and gone and gone and gone. They showed me a scripture that backed up my statement. A few minutes later, they turned to another part of the Bible and said there was another view of death which says we go to Heaven and have life everlasting. I politely nodded and said "That book says everything, doesn't it?" They left soon after that.

So Easter has come and gone again. All the people that gave up chocolate, or coffee, or meat, or whatever can go back to doing what they want. As the story goes, Jesus died for our sins again, and we can start over with all the bad things we do.

Chris Jungle is on the waiting list for both Heaven and Hell.