Passion Play

~Marcus Goodyear From a step stool my girl drops tabs in 6 cups, red, yellow, green, orange, blue, and pink. She tells the Easter story while we wait for shells to stain. "This is Jesus," C.J. begins. She's got a red M&M doll, a McDonald's Happy Meal prize. "Here's the cross," she says and displays her Popsicle stick creation from the Baptist egg hunt. The M&M doll has a clip--so trendy kids can hang him from their back pack zipper, I guess. No marketing exec for junk or fast food foresaw the candy man of sorrows crucified on my kitchen table, cups of vinegar hissing disdain around him. In her gospel Big Bird stands in for both Marys and visits the crook of my arm. “Here, Daddy, be the tomb.” Elmo rises a creepy soft angel squeezed, tickled and giggling against my white washed shoulder "He is not here! He is risen!" But our Jesus has not. The storyteller forgot the hanging candy doll--or worse, I fear-- prefers to see him hang there an acceptable suggestion of sacrifice reminding us both to dip our hands in the bunny bowl for Easter M&Ms, lilies stamped where Ms should be. Colored shells bleed on our palms, and the candy Christ speaks, “This is my body. Take and eat.” ~~~~~ Next