Appearances of Our Lord in strange places
I AM not overly religious, but, on balance, believe the pros of Christianity outweigh the cons.
Jesus is born, we get presents. Jesus dies, we get chocolate. What’s not to love?
For that reason, I have an image of The Almighty on my work computer. It’s a screen saviour.
The mixed messages that cram pages of the Good Book still baffle me, however. Jesus takes loaves and fishes, makes thousands of copies and distributes them to the masses and he’s hailed a miracle worker.
A man takes DVDs, makes thousands of copies and distributes them to the masses at car boot sales and he’s in court for piracy.
Christianity is a conundrum, it really is.
And it’s hard to avoid cold facts. God promised to purge this earth of evil; Norse God Odin pledged to purge this earth of Ice Giants. Don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen an ice giant.
Perhaps the fascination with religion drew me to strange tales of Christ’s appearance in some very bizarre places. His features have also been seen on foodstuff such as bread, biscuits and pizzas.
Sometimes there’s a very thin line between miracles and mould.
In the past, I’ve reported on Jesus visiting a Birmingham toilet. The Almighty’s image, a tear spilling from his right eye, slowly, eerily emerged from the wet cement of a newly-laid floor.
This is worrying. God may be omnipotent, but we’d like to think he leaves us alone during more intimate moments.
In recent years, his face has also appeared on socks, the bottom of a burned pan and on an ironing board.
Even I have encountered his image on a shower curtain.
Through the steam, I picked out the crown of thorns, flowing locks and long beard.
And Jesus spoke to me. “You’re a bit of a nutter, aren’t you, mate?” he said.
In fairness, the householder who discovered the holy image in the wet cement of her Erdington, Birming- ham, WC wasn’t jumping on the bandwagon. The 52-year-old rightly pointed out to me that no-one really knows what the Son of God looks like.
But she admitted: “When I looked at the image, it sent a shiver down my spine. I could make out eyes, a nose, mouth, long hair and beard.
“A lot of people have said it looks like Jesus. But no-one knows what Jesus looked like.
“No-one can explain it,” she added. “And no-one can tell us what it means.”
He moves in mysterious ways. But with The Middle East in turmoil, Russia sabre-rattling and Trump’s threats of war, Jesus’ decision to take a bow on a convenient floor leans more towards the eccentric than mysterious. Perhaps the Biblical message has been lost in translation, a modern day Gospel according to St Loo-ke.
After studying the mortar Messiah, I came to the conclusion that the ghostly face was that of Charles Hodges, aka Chas of Rockney duo Chas and Dave. He has since died, which, I believe, adds weight to my theory.
I contacted the Vatican to discover if the mystery constituted a miracle.
“If you believe The Lord’s head has appeared on a biscuit, press one,” a metallic message instructed.
“If he has made himself known unto you via mould or wood staining, press two. For other unexplained phenomena, such as locusts and frog downpours, please hold. Someone will be with you shortly.”
“I may be wasting your time,” I apololgised to a Cardinal. “It may not be Christ at all. It looks uncannily like Chas from Chas and Dave to me.
“But it is a face and many believe it is the Messiah’s image,” I pressed.
“Ask yourself this,” he sighed, “why would Jesus appear in the water closet of a Birmingham semi? Has it cured anyone while there?”
“Of what?” I stuttered. “Constipation?”
“We have hundreds of these cases each week,” snapped the Vatican spokesman.
“The search for His image on household items has become religion’s Holy Grail.”
“Surely, the search for the Holy Grail is religion’s Holy Grail,” I pointed out helpfully.
The Vatican bod is right. The Erdington toilet “miracle” faces stiff competition and the householder’s Jesus doesn’t hold a candle to Toby Elles’ Jesus, who made himself known at the bottom of a burned frying pan.
Toby, from Lancaster, said: “My housemates and I had a few beers earlier in the evening.
“I thought I would snack before going to bed and as it was cooking I decided to take a rest on the couch.
“When I woke up about an hour later the room was full of smoke. It’s some kind of miracle. If it wasn’t for the smoke of the bacon burning this on to the pan it could have been a very bad situation. Perhaps someone’s looking over me.” It’s certainly a sign, Toby. A sign you shouldn’t attempt a fryup after necking six pints.
Jesus may not have set up sticks in the Erdington home, but there seems little doubt the property is gripped by paranormal activity. But then, I’m a believer.