MY MAN

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A historian of early Christianity at Harvard Divinity School has identified a scrap of papyrus that she says was written in Coptic in the fourth century and contains a phrase never seen in any piece of Scripture: “Jesus said to them, ‘My wife . . .’ ”
—The Times.

Fine, now you know: Jesus was married and for many years I happily answered to the name Mrs. Melissa Christ. I met Jesus when we were both teen-agers, at a Young Hebrews mixer in Bethlehem. I was there with my best friend, Amy of Nazareth, and we were getting ready to leave, because we were sick of all those chubby Orthodox boys in rough burlap robes and untrimmed sideburns coming up to us and saying things like “I hope you’re not menstruating, because I’d really like to touch you.”

But then, across the room, I saw this beautiful guy with gorgeous flowing hair, wearing a simple white linen tunic and swaying gently to the music with his eyes shut, which was especially impressive because the band consisted of two elderly men rhythmically squeezing a goat. I couldn’t help staring, even after Amy told me, “I’ve heard about him. His name is Jesus and he doesn’t have a job.” But then Jesus opened his stunning blue eyes and gazed upon me, and I said to Amy, “I think I’ve just discovered one of the lost tribes of Israel.” “Which one?” she asked, and I said, “The blonds.”

Then Jesus came over and introduced himself and we chitchatted about everything, from keeping the Sabbath to how we both felt really sorry for the lame. Then I asked Jesus about his family, and he said, “My father is a carpenter,” and I could feel myself getting all flushed as I immediately thought, Hello, new coffee table.

After that, Jesus and I started seeing each other, although Jesus’ being unemployed did start to bother me, and finally one night I asked him, “So what are your plans?” And he replied, “Well, I’m thinking about inventing Gentiles.” “Gentiles?” I asked. “What are those?” “You know,” Jesus answered. “Jews who drink.”

Whenever Jesus would start telling me about this whole new-religion business, I would get nervous and ask, “But why isn’t the Torah enough?” And then Jesus would look deep into my eyes and smile and murmur, “First draft.” Which would make me even more nervous, until one afternoon Jesus sat me down on a rough-hewn bench and said, “All I’m talking about is everyone loving and respecting each other, and sharing the Lord’s bounty and bringing peace to the world.” And, while I was definitely intrigued, a tiny voice inside my head kept repeating, “Don’t lend him money.”

As the months went by, Jesus began to get more serious about spreading his message of compassion and understanding, and he began to attract hundreds of followers, and all I kept thinking was, Where is everyone going to sit? What if we run out of dried figs and almonds? That’s when Jesus waved his hand and, I couldn’t believe it, but there it was: an all-you-can-eat buffet. And I said to Jesus, “This is incredible, but I’m still a Jewish girl,” and so he waved his hand again and there they were: napkins.

Of course, like any couple, Jesus and I had our challenges. I didn’t like his friends, especially Judas, who kept telling people that he was Jesus’ manager, and who kept coming up with ideas like “What if everyone who comes to hear the Sermon on the Mount gets a free, crude wooden bobblehead of one of the apostles, so they’ll have to keep coming back, to collect them all?” and “What if Jesus wore his hair up?”

By this point, Jesus and I had been dating for seven years, and my friends kept saying things like “So when is Jesus going to pop the question?” and “Maybe Jesus would like you better if you were crippled” and “I bet Yimmel the Moabite is starting to look pretty good right now, even with the chronic perspiration.” At last, I got up my courage and I told Jesus, “You can either become a divine beacon of light for the entire world or you can marry me and start thinking about moving out of your parents’ manger.” For a second, Jesus looked dejected, but then he glowed even brighter and he took my hand and declared, “We can have it all! I want you to become my wife!” Which made me even bolder, and I asked, “But what about Mary Magdalene?” And Jesus said, “That was the old me.”

We were married in a simple, private ceremony in the desert, by a rabbi and someone whom Jesus called a Baptist minister. Right before the vows, the rabbi whispered to me, “Think about what you’re doing. Your children will be half Christian.” Which was when the minister whispered, “So what? College isn’t for everyone.”

But at our reception, at a lovely oasis, Jesus won over my family completely, when he healed my cousin Barry of Galilee, who’d been wracked with boils his entire life, although even after Barry was instantly cured my Aunt Ruth commented, “He also has lice.”

For the next few years, I accompanied Jesus as he travelled from village to village, spreading the word of God to all who would listen. I’d tell myself, “Let him get it out of his system.” Everything came to a head one night at a dinner party at a local inn. All of the apostles had gathered, and I was trying out a new recipe for unleavened cupcakes. “These are delicious,” Judas said, which made me suspicious, because, frankly, have you ever tasted an unleavened cupcake? Then Jesus announced that someone at the party would betray him, and I stood right behind Judas and I kept pointing and mouthing the words “It’s him! Wake up!” But Jesus told me privately that he suspected Luke, and, when I asked him why, Jesus said, “Because when I told him about my turn-the-other-cheek idea Luke said, ‘But wouldn’t it be stronger if you said, “Turn the other cheek, bitch?” ’ ”

Then, of course, everything went to pieces and terrible things happened, and when I was finally allowed to visit Jesus in prison I begged him to abandon his beliefs and to save his own life. But he wouldn’t do it, because that’s not who he was. “I love you so much,” I told him, “but I guess you always have to be right about everything.”

A few days after Jesus passed away, I was sitting in our hut, crying my eyes out, when the door swung open and, bingo, there he was. Of course, my first thought was, Hold on, maybe he had a twin brother. But then he kissed me and said, “No, it’s really me, and I’m dead and I’m back, but only for the day.” And I just felt so angry and hurt and confused about everything that had happened that I pounded on his chest and I howled, “JESUS CHRIST, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

Then, after he left for good, I discovered that Mark and Matthew and the rest of them had been jealous of my marriage, so I was erased from the earliest Gospels, which were called Just Jesus, Bachelor Messiah, and Duderonomy. And, as for that scrap of papyrus, it was actually one of Jesus’ notecards, from his early days doing standup, as an opening act for Little Esther and the Purim Posse, and Avram and Roy. The phrase “Jesus said to them, ‘My wife . . .’ ” was the setup for a joke, which continued, on the next card, “is so fat . . .,” and you can imagine the rest. 

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