The Spring Harbinger

"Did you know Jesus is lying at the bottom of your front steps?"

That was Oscar's opening remark as he breezed through the Wonders' front door in early April. It was late on a sunny Saturday morning. For the first time in months, there was a trace of warmth in the air.

"No," I said dryly, "that's the first I've heard of it."

Oscar feigned a look of surprised disappointment.

"If you don't believe me, come outside and see for yourself."  Then he reopened the door and beckoned me to follow.

***

I slipped on my shoes and, without a jacket, trailed Oscar down the front steps and into the spring sunshine.

During the preceding weeks, the old town was buffeted by alternating periods of snow, rain and fog. Sunlight was only a vague memory.  It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the brightness of the day.  That's why I didn't notice Jesus right away.

Oscar and your agent stood at the foot of the Wonders' front steps. He poked his elbow gently into my side and pointed to the ground.  

Sure enough, that's exactly where Jesus was.

***

Of course, it was only a picture of Jesus.  His image was on an 8.5" by 11" sheet of paper.

The picture had endured a thorough soaking of rain.  It was probably buried under snow before that.  It was, to be sure, a decidedly soggy image of the Lord.  

Only Jesus' face was shown in the picture. But it filled the entire sheet of paper.  Oscar called it "a classic head shot."  

And it was lying at the foot of the Wonders' front stairs.  

***

Your agent is aware of conventional images of Jesus.  He's usually shown with long, luxurious brown hair, a beard of varying lengths and a strong, yet gentle face. Often, he's garbed in a flowing white robe and wears sandals on his feet. 

Inexplicably, he usually appears Caucasian in origin.

How Jesus really looked is likely a matter of academic debate.  I have no idea about the subject, myself. Nevertheless, the image at the foot of the Wonders' stairs was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

***

It wasn't just that Jesus looked angry in the image.  He was positively enraged.

A crown of thorns was partially visible around his head. Blood seeped and clotted around the barbs piercing his forehead.  He had a dark complexion and black, shoulder-length hair.  Dirt and sweat were evident on his face.

His beard was short and unkempt.  It was the beard of a man who hadn't shaved for a week or two.

***

Even more intriguing was the expression on Jesus' face.

His expression spoke of dark, smoldering and barely-restrained fury. His eyes were fierce and black.  And his mouth was set in a manner suggesting an imminent growl.

Oscar called the image, "Easter Jesus Extreme."

***

"So, what do you think?" Oscar asked.

"I think I need to clean up the winter debris around my front door," I replied.  

In addition to the agonized face of Jesus, the melting of the last snowfall had revealed a variety of items on the Wonders' property.  A plastic bag filled with store flyers was entangled in a small bush near the front steps.  A half-filled water bottle peered out from beneath the porch. 

Most unusual was an empty tin of processed lobster on the front lawn.  I have no idea where it came from.  Your agent never touches the stuff.

Oscar listened as I pointed out the miscellaneous debris. Then he harrumphed.

In this case, he actually said the word, 'harrumph." Weed had previously declared it to be the Sack's official "word of the month" for April.  He made this announcement during a recent foray to the local coffee cathedral.

"Think about this for a second," Oscar said finally, "you've got a picture of Jesus on your front step and he's looking really pissed off." He raised his finger in the air and gave me a stern look.

"How could you possibly disregard a sign like that?"

"A sign of what?" I answered with a laugh.

"Well," he sputtered, "I can't help you with that.  Angry Jesus is on your front step. You're the one with the soul-searching to do."

***

Oscar, of course, is a big fan of omens, symbols and signs. He's superstitious to a fault.

When a low-fat blueberry muffin mysteriously appeared on the Wonders' driveway a few years ago, he pondered the matter for days.  If there's sea smoke hovering over the old town's harbour, he refuses to leave his house except for necessities.  He says there's no profit to be found outdoors on such a cold day.

And when Dirk returns his empty beer bottles to the recycling depot, Oscar boldly predicts drunken shenanigans at Burning Manor within a fortnight.

He's usually right about that one.

***

Thankfully, the matter of Easter Jesus Extreme was soon dropped.  A visit to the local coffee cathedral was planned and Oscar had maple sugar donuts on his mind.

When I returned from our little repast, however, Jesus' furious glare awaited. Alone on the front step, I pondered the matter for a few minutes.  Then, bending over the imposing, yet soggy image, I lifted one of its corners.  At this slightest touch, the paper began to tear.  

I quickly withdrew and considered the matter again.

Your agent's conscience, of course, has no difficulty with discarding a religious tract into the nearest recycling bin. After all, the reverse side of the Jesus image likely contained a message from one of the old town's more expressive ministries.

But on this particular day, my conscience wouldn't yield to the idea of tearing the image of Easter Jesus Extreme.  It just didn't seem like the right thing to do.

I left Jesus on the front step and carried on with my day.

***

Later, I mentioned the matter to Mrs. Wonders.  

She hadn't noticed the picture during her own travels.  She didn't seem too interested in the matter, either.  Instead, a different piece of winter debris had captured her attention. After I provided the gist of the Jesus matter, she simply replied:

"So, which one of us is going to be first to pick up that empty can of lobster meat on the front lawn?"

***

The matter of Easter Jesus Extreme faded from my mind again, but only until the next day. That's when your agent received an email from Ben.

Ben is currently in Afghanistan.  He's a senior cook in the Canadian Forces.  His deployment began in January.  He'll be home again in June.  Right now, Ben works at the main airbase in Kandahar.

Several Sack residents have been trading occasional emails with Ben. His wife, Norma says he looks forward to them.

Ben's email was rather brief.  He said life on deployment was either busy or boring.  Thankfully, however, he had been able to watch the hockey playoffs on satellite television.  Apparently, it was the first time he had ever watched the Montreal Canadiens at four o'clock in the morning.

The most notable aspect of Ben's email was the postscript that followed his name.  It was a single, simple statement:

I hear you've got Jesus at your front door.

*** 

My reply to Ben's email made no mention of Easter Jesus Extreme in the main part of the message.  Instead, I left my own postscript:

Yes, Jesus is at the front door.  And Buddha's on the back steps. They have me surrounded.  Help me.

***

That wasn't the end of the Easter Jesus Extreme matter. There was more to come.

Later that day, I heard voices around the front steps.  I was reclining in the Wonders' front room at the time.  Glancing out the window, I saw three somewhat bedraggled teenagers gathered at the bottom of the steps.  It was Oscar's boy, Dorian and two of his pals.  They were looking at the picture of Jesus.

Dorian is now a strapping sixteen-year-old.  I could hear his muffled voice as he introduced the image to his friends. Eventually, one of them exclaimed:

"That's wild, man."

Dorian and the third friend laughed nervously.  The other one quickly joined in.  There was a few seconds of silence and then they sauntered away.

I think they might've been smoking pot.

***

After dinner, Weed appeared at the Wonders' door.  The sunshine and relative warmth had continued for a second day.  Weed had iced cappuccino on his mind.  He extended an invitation to the local coffee cathedral.

As we walked down the front steps, he stopped in front of Easter Jesus Extreme.

"So, this is the picture I've heard about," he said thoughtfully.  He studied it for a moment while rubbing his chin.  Then he smiled and said:

"If you ask me, it looks more like Che Guevera."

I'm quite certain that Weed had been smoking pot.

***

The following day was Monday.  It was another glorious spring day.  It was also time to go back to work.

I didn't think about Easter Jesus Extreme during the day.  I didn't even notice it on the way out in the morning.  But my return to the Sack at days end quickly brought the matter alive again.

After parking the car in the driveway, I walked down the street to the community mailbox.  As I passed her house, Elizabeth emerged from her car.  She was just getting home from work.  After a recent stress leave, she has returned to her job in administration at a local psychiatric hospital.  

Elizabeth stopped and made a show of looking your agent up and down.

"I hear someone's been sinning up a storm."

"What?" I replied with surprise.

"You know what I'm talking about," she said coyly.  "I hear Jesus came right to your front door looking for you."

After pausing for moment, I replied, "Oh, right. . . . you heard about that, did you?"

"I sure did," said Elizabeth.  

Then she did something very unusual.  She cackled.

Elizabeth, of course, is generally a very stern woman. Humour doesn't find her easily.  But now, for the very first time, she had cackled.

"Well," I called out in reply, "everybody's good at something.  Sinning must be my thing."

Elizabeth closed her car door and smiled.  "It's always the quiet ones, you know." Then she cackled again and walked to her front steps.

I briefly considered whether Elizabeth had been smoking pot.  I also made a mental note to suggest 'cackle' as the Sack's word of the month for May.

***

On my return from the mailbox, I encountered Big Doug. He was spreading lime on his front lawn.  It's a sure sign of spring when he has lawn care on his mind.

As I passed by, Big Doug grunted and nodded in my direction.  He didn't stop spreading the lime.  We walked parallel to each other at a slow pace.

"Getting the lawn ready, eh?" I said casually.

"Yeah," said Big Doug, without looking up.  "It's a pain in the arse."

"You've got that right," I answered.

We walked in unison for a few more feet.  Big Doug continued to spread lime on his lawn.   I was on the sidewalk.  Just as we reached the end of his lawn, Big Doug suddenly said:

"Heard about your picture of Jesus."

"Yeah," your agent replied.  I couldn't think of anything else to say at the time.

Big Doug turned and started spreading the lime in the opposite direction.  As he turned, he called over his shoulder in a low voice:

"Put in a good word for me, would ya?"  Then he bellowed with laughter.

***

A fourth, consecutive sunny day followed.  At the end of the workday, the Sack was alive with activity.  Sack kids were out in droves and adults seemed to be looking for the slightest reason to linger outside.

The street had emerged from its winter hibernation.

Easter Jesus Extreme was still on the Wonders' front step. I checked on it when I left for work that morning.  The image was definitely starting to dry out.  This made Jesus look older and more irate.

Mrs. Wonders had agreed to leave the image in its place.  In return, your agent picked up the empty can of processed lobster on the front lawn.  I put it in the recycling bin.  I also picked up the rest of the debris on the lawn and around the front door.  

That was my good reason for being outside.

***

As I puttered about, young Doo appeared on the driveway. He was on his bike. An enormous red helmet was on his head.  The unfastened chinstrap dangled on his shoulder.  I think the helmet was on his head backwards.

Doo stopped his bike in front of the picture of Jesus.  He balanced his bike with one foot on the ground and one on the opposite pedal.

"Who's that guy?" said Doo, pointing down at Jesus.

I looked at the image for a few seconds and then replied:

"He's the goalie for the Montreal Canadiens."

Doo looked up at me and then back down at the picture.  He seemed only partially convinced.  Finally, he said quietly:

"Did he get hit by a puck?"

Barely stifling laughter, I replied, "Yeah, he sure did."

Doo considered this for a moment and then said with enthusiasm, "Ouch!  That must've hurt!"

Then he straightened his bike and pedaled away, making a gleeful, high-pitched siren sound.  He was pretending to be an ambulance.

***

On the fifth day, the old town awoke to high, gusting winds. The sky was gray and there was a foggy mist in the air. Rain was forecast for later in the day.  The temperature had dropped dramatically.

On the way out in the morning, I paused on the front steps. Easter Jesus Extreme was gone.  I looked around to see if it had been carried by the wind somewhere nearby.  But it was gone.

***

Oscar says a decent omen usually has an expiry date. Apparently, you only have a limited amount of time to make sense of it.  Oscar said he could only hope that I had made good use of mine.

I have no idea about such things.

***

Easter Jesus Extreme arrived and departed with pleasant and agreeable sunshine.  Weeks of wet, dreary weather had preceded it. Their winter inertia fading, Sack residents stretched and mingled again.  They were talking, puttering and playing outdoors.  

The image also invited more than a few Sack residents to laugh aloud, your agent included.  It even made one person cackle. Another one was moved to make a high-pitched siren sound.

And that can't be a bad thing.

***