THE SON OF GOD
He was born in a barn, his father a carpenter, and his mother a decent woman, but they were of no significance, and certainly couldn’t have afforded to give the boy a private education. And yet, as a teenager, he was arguing the toss with his elders and betters in the council chambers. He never got a proper job, just roamed around the countryside, unshaven, and living off bread and water and the occasional fish, while offering his opinions to those who cared to listen. He became the manager of a football team known as The Disciples, not one of them a star, in fact the twelfth man rather let the side down by accepting a transfer fee of thirty pieces of silver to play for the opposition. The authorities eventually arrested him as a rabble-rouser, but couldn’t decide what to charge him with, other than the fact he claimed he was the Son of God. They strung him up with a couple of criminals, and when he finally gave up the ghost, rather assumed that would be the last they’d hear of him. The Disciples were relegated at the end of the season, in fact the captain claimed on more than one occasion that he’d never been a member of His team. When He died at the age of thirty-three, there were no obituaries in the local press reporting his achievements, no glossy supplements highlighting his colourful career, no radio programmes to discuss his legacy, and no box sets recording any of his miracles. But then, He’d never relied on focus groups to advise him on current trends, or advertising gurus to spend millions promoting his brand, or spin doctors to sharpen his image, and he didn’t require social media to keep his followers up to date, so you could be forgiven for assuming he’d be forgotten in a few days. So how can one explain that over two thousand years later, Jesus Christ is still the best-known celebrity on earth? Could it just be that He was the Son of God?