“Stephanie, Jesus Thinks You're HOT!"

Scrolling through my email, I saw this subject from an online dating service: “Stephanie, Jesus Thinks You're HOT!" Really? Was the Son of Man flipping through the match.com headshots when He came across mine and said, "O, Woman! Verily, thou art most fair." Or have I finally become so desperate that I need Divine Intervention for my social life? Then it dawned on me that “Jesus” was just some guy's name. Oops. Note to self: cancel plans to build a shrine around computer. 

Dang! Why couldn’t this email have appeared on a tortilla?

Receiving a potential "match made in Heaven" made me think about the real Jesus Christ. Not the first name you associate with dating, but what would his J-Date profile read like? 

"Itinerant rabbi ISO Woman of Faith.  Object: Marriage

on Earth as it is in the Kingdom of Heaven. Prefers someone as

comfortable at the seaside as in the wilderness. Must have

experience feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and tending

to the sick a must. Loaves and fishes provided. Ownership of 

a beast of burden a plus." 

You can almost imagine this ad was written at the behest of his distressed Mom: “Nu? Enough already with the shmying up and down the Galilee, Mr. ‘I’m-Gonna-Save-the-World!’ You're 33! Time to start a family!” 

If Jesus had decided to marry, the record shows that He treated women, even fallen or leprous ones, very fairly. This was pretty daring during a time when girls were basically told, “Sit there and look pretty while Daddy marries you off for some cattle.”

As full of love as Jesus and His Mom were, I remember being frightened as a kid by Their statues as I walked past Our Lady of Peace Catholic Church. I am Jewish, and therefore somewhat leery of what we Jews perceive to be a “graven image,” which the Third Commandment says is forbidden. (One time in the desert, there was this Golden Calf and . . . actually, I'd really rather not to talk about it.) The figures I saw when I peeked into the Sanctuary were so stern-looking, and their physical conditions? Like a nightmare version of Lucky Charms: Crowns of thorns! Nailed hands! Bleeding hearts! I don’t mean to make light of anyone’s suffering - it’s just that these images stayed with me as I walked home and even when I went to bed, giving me the creepy sensation that they were still watching me. 

So I was a little surprised when I came across a travel-size glow-in-the-dark statue of the Madonna at a garage sale, and thought: Hmm, this isn't so bad. In fact, She looked very kind and understanding, Her hands clasped in prayer. Maybe She'd pray for me to find a boyfriend as nice as Her Son. I wouldn't mind that at all. Breaking more than one personal taboo, I bravely brought the Blessed Virgin home and put Her on my nightstand. 

Now it’s the two of us, just two Jewish moms watching “The Wire” together.

She’s good company, really. I just wish she’d eat something.