And it came to pass one Thursday evening that Jesus invited his 12 Apostles to have supper with him.
But almost as soon as the meal was served, he proclaimed, “Verily I say unto you that one of you shall betray me.”
Many an eye was rolled. Was this not the same man who had said unto his disciples only hours earlier, “Guys, I know a great place on Mount Zion — private room, open bar, a table long enough for all of us to sit on the same side. You’re gonna love it.”
Jesus, by all appearances, had an agenda on this particular eventide. But yea, verily, so did Simon Peter.
St. Peter in Tears, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, c. 1650
“Jesus, I can’t deny we’d all have oodles of fun playing your little guessing game, but it’ll have to wait,” he said, “because right now it’s time to bring out some special guests. Mary Magdalene, Joseph, Methuselah, get your butts out here!”
Jesus was confused, but his inner light illuminated the room when he saw the three guests enter.
“That’s right, God Boy — tonight you’re getting roasted!” said Simon Peter.
Judas Iscariot was unamused by the proceedings. But his fellow Apostles cheered as Simon Peter moved to the center of the dining table.
“I remember when I first met Jehovah Junior, A-K-A the Hairiest Jew Alive,” he said unto the dais. “I was with my brother Andrew over there, casting our nets into Lake Galilee, when Jesus walked up and said something I’ll never forget: ‘Who wants to suck my dick for eternal salvation?'”
Nervous laughter filled the room, which immediately fell silent when Jesus cried out, “That’s a lie!”
Then he smiled ever so slightly. “I never offered them eternal salvation.”
O, how the room erupted in joyful noise! John and James, the two sons of Zebedee, refilled their friends’ wooden chalices with wine as Simon Peter said, “I swear to his dad it’s true. Of course, we have Jesus’s other dad here tonight. Joseph, take it away!”
Joseph stood and cleared his throat. “As I’m sure you already know, I found out my beautiful wife, Mary, was knocked up when an angel came to me in a dream. He said, ‘Joe, I got some good news and I got some bad news. The good news is, Mary’s got a bun in the oven. The bad news is, it ain’t yours. The worse news is, the kid’s gonna be free of original sin, so have fun raising the most self-righteous bastard who ever lived.'”
And Jesus brayed like an ass relieved of all its burdens.
“But seriously, folks, I couldn’t be prouder of Jesus, even if he isn’t my flesh and blood. Son, you make every day worth living, and for that I’ll always love you.”
Then, looking toward the kingdom of heaven, Joseph said, “But since I paid for your bar mitzvah, your weekend dad better pick up the check for your homecoming celebration.”
Amidst peals of laughter, Jesus gave his earthbound father a warm embrace.
“You know, it’s funny,” said Simon Peter. “As a teenager Joseph was always praying to God, ‘Please don’t let this girl be pregnant, please don’t let this girl be pregnant, I swear I won’t do it again.’ As soon as he doesn’t do it again? He gets a girl pregnant! And the guy who should’ve answered his prayers turns out to be the real father. That ain’t divine intervention — that’s just fuckin’ mean!”
And while the other Apostles slapped their knees and held their sides, Judas whispered sharply to Jesus, “This vulgar language is highly offensive.”
Jesus placed a comforting hand on his disciple’s shoulder and said, “Relax. It’s all in good fun.” He gestured toward Judas’s chalice. “How’s the house wine? Too sweet? If you need me to turn your water into cabernet, just say the word.”
And Simon Peter said unto Joseph, “Joe, we love you, you know we do. No offense to the big man upstairs, but where was He when Jesus was soiling his swaddling clothes? You had to do the dirty work while He was busy setting bushes on fire, and we can all respect that.”
Applause echoed off the room’s walls of stone.
“Hey, speaking of a bush that’s on fire, please welcome Mary Magdalene!”
Mary Magdalene, Guido Reni, c. 1616
Jesus’s devoted follower stepped to the center of the table with a small stack of papyrus notecards in her hands. “Simon Peter, everybody,” she began. “Personally, I wouldn’t fuck him with Judas’s pussy — and I’m a prostitute.”
They all laughed. All but Judas, whose face turned as red as King David’s beard.
“We’re here tonight to roast a man I’ve been trying to get in the sack for years now,” said Mary. “You’d think a carpenter would know something about screwing, nailing, and banging, but not Jesus. He may be able to raise the dead, but his wood’s another story. Seriously, an erection on this Jew would take a miracle. Just last week I said, ‘Jesus, I want you inside me,’ so what’d he do? Gave me a stale wafer and one sip of wine and said, ‘Happy now?'”
Jesus, happily embarrassed, covered his face as Philip and Matthew slapped him on the back.
“I’m telling you, the man wouldn’t know the meaning of the word ‘passion’ if a Roman centurion nailed it into his hands and feet,” said Mary.
And as the laughter exited the room like the Israelites from Egypt, it was replaced by the din of a mighty swarm of crickets that had gathered outside.
Mary, gallantly attempting to win back her audience, said unto them, “What, too soon? Hey, they can’t all be gold. Sometimes you have to settle for frankincense and myrrh, am I right?”
Jesus laughed, which soothed Mary’s soul. And she looked down upon her notecards, shuffled a few around, and set her gaze on the most senior of the assembled citizens.
“Methuselah, you’re still alive? Unbelievable. This guy’s been around so long, he still calls the Old Testament ‘the Testament.'”
And thus, as laughter returned to the room, Mary’s confidence returned as well.
“He’s so old, he remembers when Sodom and Gomorrah were good places to raise a family.”
Lo, the merriment was contagious!
“In fact Methuselah’s so old …”
Mary paused. But her call was quickly met with a unified response from the Apostles: “How old is he?”
“Methuselah’s so old, he once told Adam, ‘I know you think Eve’s “the one,” but it can’t hurt to shop around.'”
Mary, to borrow a popular post-B.C. expression, had killed. And as the crowd roared, Jesus leaned over to Methuselah and shouted Mary’s jokes in his ear. The elder grinned.
“Listen, that’s all I got, boys,” said Mary unto them. “Thanks for having me, and if you’d really like to have me, my price is one lamb an hour, so start counting your sheep. Enjoy the buffet, cocksuckers!”
The Last Supper, Carl Bloch, c. 1876
Judas pounded his fists on the table and screamed, “Stop it! All of you!”
And Jesus said, “Judas, take it easy.”
“No, I won’t take it easy! How dare they make such blasphemous remarks about the son of God! You should all be ashamed of yourselves, betraying Jesus’s love and friendship like this.”
“Whoa whoa whoa — ‘betray’?” Jesus said unto Judas. “Interesting choice of words.”
And Judas turned white and stammered, “Uh, well, no, see, what I meant was, uh—”
But he was interrupted by Methuselah, who said, with great effort, “Jesus … you need … to see a doctor.”
And Jesus responded, “Why, Methuselah? I’ve never felt better.”
“Because Judas’s nose … needs to be removed … from your ass.”
And as Jesus and his loved ones exploded in hysterics, Judas fled. He had eaten his last supper as an Apostle, but he would never have the last laugh.
The preceding Bible story was originally performed onstage in 2004. In other words, it is risen, it is risen.
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