“Jesus Snacks” from the chapter currently known as Jesus Is A Registered Trademark:
One Sunday morning, Jenny, a friend I knew from the Christian school I attended, came prancing into our third-grade Sunday school class carrying a red-and-green plaid tin. It was quite large and it was decorated with a multi-patterned orange and pink bow.
Jenny seemed to be on a mission. It was obvious by the way she held on to her tin that she wanted everyone to see it and wonder what was inside. Her grip was tight, as if at any moment she believed someone might try and steal it from her.
Due to her rather unhealthy attachment to that tin, I halfway expected Jenny to burst into a full-on wail when I told her the colors in her bow disastrously clashed with the colors in the tin. Much to my surprise and even more to my disappointment, my comment didn’t make Jenny cry, not even for an instant. It seemed Jenny was hardened to my critique, so much so, that she laughed at me. Instead of breaking down, her demeanor was stiff, like she had walked into Sunday School prepared for my words, as if her mother had told her to wear combat boots and a shield across her chest that morning because she knew that someone at Sunday school would try and steal away the joy she was feeling about her homely tin.
I don’t think I was a mean-spirited child, just perhaps a little too honest at times. Like a lot of third graders who aren’t ready to buy into the idea that humility would bring me the name recognition I craved among my peers, sometimes there was this conniving side of my personality that thoroughly enjoyed being the center of attention. And whenever that attention came at the expense of others, it was an added bonus for the ole ego. But despite Jenny not being interested in my ability to match colors, that didn’t stop me from telling her that my Mom thought velvet clashed with wool.
“Matthew, guess what?” she asked, setting down her coat.
“What?” I asked, praying to God that the contents of Jenny’s tin would be a gift for me.
“My mom made the entire class cookies! Would you like to see em?” Before I could say yes, Jenny was already tearing off the mismatched bow. “Look!” she said, opening the lid so I could peek inside.
“Wow! Your mom made cookies that look just like Jesus!” I said.
As I looked at the twenty or so large Jesus-shaped cookies, I found it hard not to pick one up so I could smell his face; I’d never seen the face of Jesus look delicious. I’d seen it look peaceful, patient, happy, and once, when an evangelist came to speak at church about sodomy, I’d pictured Jesus with an angry face. But I don’t believe I had ever craved him with milk. But up until that day, I’d never seen the face of Jesus made out of sugar cookie dough, either.
“Mom found Jesus cookie cutters in a Christian catalogue,” said Jenny, placing the lid back on the tin so her Jesus snacks wouldn’t get stale. “The frosting is homemade, but Mom had a hard time making the color brown, and that’s why his kind of looks purple.”
Now that she mentioned it, the cookies did kind of resemble Tina Turner more than they looked like Jesus.
“Jenny, do you think Mrs. Snover will let us eat Jesus?” I asked, wondering if it would be against our religion to digest the Son of God.
“Daddy wondered the same thing,” said Jenny, “but Mom told me to not to worry about it. She said Catholics eat Jesus every Sunday during communion.”
“Catholics eat Jesus?”
“Yeah, my mom used to be Catholic; she told me she ate Jesus all the time.”
“That’s gross,” I said, crinkling up my face, “I guess we should be happy we’re Baptist. I don’t think I’d want to eat Jesus every Sunday.”
”But you will love my mom’s Jesus cookies; he tastes yummy, I had him for breakfast.”
“Would you please stop talking about the cookies, Jenny; you’re kind of making me want to eat one of him right now.”
You know, my friend Jenny was right; those purple-haired Jesus cookies tasted very good. Since I was not Catholic, that day was the first time I ate Jesus, but it would not be the last.
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Thanks for giving us a “little taste” of the book. I am looking forward to reading it.
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