I Know St Peter Will Call My Name

Weekend Warming Ups

8075/21006

I think about religion a lot. Way too much for someone who has decided it's not for him. But it's a fascinating part of human thinking whether it turns out to be true or obviously made up.

It's true I mainly write about Christianity, because that's the religion I was raised in, used to believe in (when I was 7) and which I know best. Also I like not being stabbed to death, so there's that as well. Thanks for turning the other cheek, guys. Don't forget to judge not, lest ye be judged. Everyone seems to be forgetting that one.

As my show Christ on a Bike made clear (download it here), I am still a Christite - I love loads of stuff that Jesus said, mainly let he who is without sin clear the first stone. He doesn't need to be magic to make him impressive. In fact the less magic he is, the more impressed I am.

I've written jokes and sketches galore about Christianity, but something struck me for the first time today (maybe after seeing the inevitable cartoon of David Lynch arriving at the pearly gates), how did St Peter end up with such a crappy job.

Peter was the main one, right, apart from Jesus and his brother James (though your church probably doesn't want you to know about him). I'm not counting motey-eye Paul (though I am going to write a song about him, where did he come from, was it in Gaul? Where did he come from motey-eye Paul?). Peter was the rock (or maybe precious jewel depending on how you want to translate the Aramaic) that the church was built on and was the first Bishop of Rome. He also didn't mind when Jesus just decided to give him a completely different name. He was a good disciple, apart from cutting off that bloke's ear (according to John) and denying Jesus three times and ultimately got crucified for his faith.

You'd think he'd have a special bit of Heaven carved out for him, where he could be venerated and not have to do any more work. Instead they make him Heaven't bouncer, which surely has to be the crappiest job in the entire Holy Kingdom.

He has to greet every single person who has died and let them know whether they're coming in or going to the other place and presumably tell them why. Mostly it must be pretty tough to decide. Though there are a few people who are completely moral and good and a few who are obviously evil and wouldn't argue about it, most of the rest of us are a mixture of the two. We'll have done some unselfish stuff and prayed and obeyed half of the Ten Commandments, but we'll have done some coveting and cursing and been a bit of a dick when we're drunk, stolen some stuff and been mean or worse to other people. I don't know how they decide who gets in and who doesn't. There must be some leeway and feeling sorry for your crimes must help - the Prodigal Son is in there for example - but it must be at least touch and go for most people and St Peter will have to take a few minutes explaining each decision and presumably get quite a lot of kickback from people who thought they were good, but have a rose-tinted view of themselves or worshipped the wrong deity or the wrong version of the right deity. Fifty per cent of Christians will be out for either believing or not believing that the wine and bread literally turn into Jesus blood and body. I can't imagine God is letting that slide for anyone who got it wrong. Particularly if they made a big fuss about definitely being right whilst they were alive.

It's a never ending job as well. People are dying all the time. And it's not like St Peter can have any time off. It has to be him. Imagine getting to Heaven and finding that St Peter is on is break and St Thaddeus is stepping in for ten minutes. It'd be like going to the theatre to see a big star and getting the fucking understudy. This is my big moment, I want the proper guy.

So Peter has to do this tortuous and confrontational job 24/7/365/about 2000 (and counting).

About 100 billion people have died since he died on that cross. That's a lot of pencils and clipboards he's been through. About 170,000 people die every day, approximately two every second. Even if time slows down a bit in Heaven that's a lot of relentless work. Even if only one in ten people want to make a scene about not getting in.

If that's what you get for denying Jesus three times, but otherwise being an excellent sport, then what hope is there for any of us?

If it has to be a disciple, give it to Thomas, for doubting something, even though he'd apparently witnessed countless miracles and must have known that Jesus was definitely God's son and so could easily come back to life. That prick deserves to have 170,000 people a day arguing the toss with him and doubting that his list is right.

Or perhaps it's actually the sort of worse than Hell punishment that should be given to Judas.

"Listen mate, you betrayed our Lord which was not cool, but the thing is you had to do that so that everyone could be ultimately saved, so we used you like a pawn in the whole enterprise. That doesn't absolve you completely obviously - shouldn't have done it, especially given you knew he was the Son of God cos you'd seen all the miracles - BUT your punishment/reward is to stand outside Heaven and let everyone who ever dies from now on know if they get in or not. You're going to have to deal with some arguments and some pissed off religious people who thought they were praying to the right God or following the right branch of Christianity and it's going to go on for about 2000 years, before you suddenly get 10 billion more people more or less all arriving at once, but once you're done you can lock up and come in and have some Ambrosia rice pudding. It's that or burning forever."

So if being Heaven's bouncer is what Jesus does for his best friend, then Christ knows what he's got in store for me.

8076/2100

Is my son a psychopath? It's a question that every parent must surely ask of their kids at some point, because kids say the scariest shit (that should have been the TV show) and very much see themselves as the centre of the Universe. Most of them grow out of that once life has battered them down a bit, but a few manage to hang on to those feelings and then become President of the United States.

Ernie is a sweet and sensitive boy, always happy to share his sweets, keen to make friends and loves to make people laugh, but he also wanted several guns and a money-printing machine for Christmas and is very keen to possess as much money as possible without spending any of it (though I took both kids to the shops today and they bought stuff with their own money which was a momentous day).

Also I found this picture he drew on a piece of paper that he got from school. It shows what looks like a family from behind, looking towards the blank page, inviting the student to use their imagination to draw a picture of what he or she imagines they are looking at.

Ernie, it turned out, decided that he would do a self-portrait and what he has drawn is himself at the top of a building (I am guessing). He is flanked by two agents wearing sunglasses and holding guns and two more guards stand at the bottom of the tower. Ernie has himself saying "Heol or els!" which translates as "Hail or else!"

He has decided that the people are looking at him on some kind of balcony, ordering them to worship him or else... what? His gun-toting sidekicks will kill you?

That was at least ambiguous the first time I saw the picture, but subsequently the woman and child that are observing them have red spots on their heads and something red trickling down their backs. When I asked Ernie to explain what that was, he coldly remarked that they didn't hail him. It's not really up to question what standing up against this tyrant will lead to. Did the other figure kowtow or has he too been shot in the head, but we can't see the wound?

Should I be worried that I have a tiny Hitler living in my house? Or am I fairly safe because his big sister is a slightly bigger Hitler and will probably overthrow him.

Obviously if Ernie goes on to be a serial killer/despot of some kind this blog will provide valuable evidence for his biographers, but I think (at least I hope) that this is fairly standard behaviour for a seven year old. I know my parents were clearly concerned that I whiled away long hours playing war with those tiny world war 2 figures we all had as toys in the 70s (more worryingly I liked to play with them when my dad was having a bonfire and would basically napalm forces with molten plastic dripping on them from above (I think it was nearly always the Nazis who were getting this treatment though and let's face it those guys deserved it. Thank God they'll never be back)

I haven't (yet) turned into a gun-toting murderer or raving army general. If you had read "The Four Men Have A Fiht With the Men of Phise" (if you haven't head here) you will know that I too was creating quite bloodthirsty work as a child. Yet I haven't even fought a single Man of Phise in my life (I believe the Men of Phise were the Pharisees - the enemies of Jesus, who I believed in and supported back then and I think you will agree that like the Nazis, those guys had what was coming to them).

Maybe if adults were encouraged to express their feelings through art and literature like this we'd actually stop more violence. Who knows? I don't think I need to worry about Ernie. But man, taking that little girl out like that is pretty cold. You can be sure that I will be hailing Ernie every day now, just in case. And I'd advise you to do the same.