Forgive Him Jesus: He Really Doesn’t Know What He’s Doing

Dog Bunny

This Easter morning, Donald J. Trump fell to his knees.

“Dear Jesus,” he said. “I repent! Please forgive me my sins.”

“I’ve been selfish. I’ve fornicated with porn stars, been unfaithful to my wives, lashed out in judgment, and hurt many people. To preserve my ego, I’ve put myself first. I’ve told lies, huge lies, some of the best lies ever, all just so I can look good and have things my way. I’ve mocked the disabled, marginalized the sick, made life more difficult for disenfranchised immigrants, golfed more than I should (and sometimes lied about my score), served the rich and powerful over the poor and needy, and called countries with Black people ‘shit holes’ and then said I didn’t. Sometimes I’ve even humiliated people who get in my way, repeatedly calling them clever, but untruthful names, pointing out their weaknesses, and accusing them of fake news and low ratings. My behavior toward women has been so shocking that I’d rather only talk about it in locker rooms. But now that I’ve built up my self-esteem on the backs of others, I finally feel good enough about myself to come clean. I was too focused on winning. I forgot all about that thing in the Bible about the last being first, and that other thing in the Bible about the camel and the eye of a needle. In truth, and this is hard for me to say, but I’ve lived a life quite opposite of a true Christian. I’ve had it backward. Instead of doing unto others as I would have them do unto me, I’ve been doing unto others, as I feared or perceived them doing unto me.

For all this, and much more, I seek your forgiveness.”

Suddenly, Jesus appeared before Donald Trump saying,

“I’m not inclined to make personal appearances, but your case is special, so I’m making an exception. I want you to know, my son, my Donald, I forgive you. I forgive you your many, many, and very large sins. I have faith that from here on, you will live your life as an exemplary Christian.

Donald looked up in amazement.

Jesus was transfigured.

Wait.” Jesus said, smiling. “What day is today?”

Donald looked puzzled. “What do you mean my Lord? Surely you must remember, today is Easter! Of all holidays, this must be your favorite. I mean, you, rising from the dead. That was big. Never been seen before, or after. Biggest thing ever.”

“Yes, my Donald. You are correct. Today is my favorite holiday. And so let me offer you the appropriate greeting.”

Immediately, shimmering and giggling, Jesus said,

“April Fools!”

Then he, Elijah, and Mary Magdalen all had a very good laugh at the Donald.

Finally, after calming himself down, Jesus spoke again,

“Hey Donald. Seriously now. The joke is over. I’m not saying I’m NOT forgiving you. That was just me joking. Haha. Got you pretty good, huh? But here’s the deal. You need to know that good old Catholic doctrine, you know, the one about faith AND works; it applies here, especially to guys like you. After all the sinning you’ve just confessed to me, big and huge sinning, as you might say, it seems obvious, you’ve got work to do. Besides, when you first started your confession this morning, I was pretty sure you were doing an April Fool’s joke ON ME. And because you’ve grown so good at lying, I’m still not perfectly convinced you weren’t just dissembling. So hang in there my son: be honest, help the disenfranchised, treat women with respect, get some funding for the EPA and education, love the little children, make progress on gun safety, and give away all your money to the poor. Then, forgiveness for you will be just around the corner.”

The Ides of March


Rita yells from downstairs, “Hey, there’s a fox running across the field.”

I get to the window and see a quick red fox loping across the alfalfa field in front of our house.

I point out, “It’s loping, not running.”

Rita counters: “It might be trotting.”

We dance a bit.

But part of me is thinking that having never been a bushy-tailed red fox makes discerning fox-loping from fox-trotting difficult.

While contemplating life as a red fox, I dump compost water onto my left shoe. This left shoe is the very same left shoe where dribbles of unleaded gasoline landed last week.

Might this be a warning? Doesn’t everything happen for a reason?

Apparently, my left shoe is attracting bad smells. Why? What karma does that particular shoe have coming to it?

On the Ides of March, my father had a stroke. I was there. I cannot express the piercing terribleness.

In what feels like a lifetime ago, I thought that when I sprained my ankle or when the wind blew against me while bicycling, that it was a message from the universe or God or some mystical entity. But I never discerned the message. I keep listening, but sometimes I forget.

Nothing happens for a reason.

The compost water found its way; there is no ordained destiny for my left foot.

The stroke struck; there was horror, but no inherent gracious or malevolent message.

The fox ran, loped, or trotted, without spiritual awareness or discernment. Being a humanoid meaning-maker, I am glad of that. Making meaning from nothing grows tiresome.

Can you help me, Mr. Bushy-Tailed Red Fox, understand the meaning of all things?

Or help me understand the meaning of no things.

Or help me understand both at once.

via Daily Prompt: Warning