The First Patriot

In the year 33 AD, Gershom ben Shimon was a proud citizen of the Roman province of Judea. He worked as a stonemason in Jerusalem, where he proudly and diligently assisted the Romans in their empire building. Though Judaism was declared a legal religion in the Roman Empire, Gershom rejected the barbaric teachings of Yahweh, having converted to the cult of Jupiter.

Today, as usual, Gershom woke up in his Jerusalem house, where he slept with a quilt with the design of the Roman vexillum on it. He dressed up in a beige linen tunic, a burgundy woolen cloak, and sandals. He sat down and prayed to a number of individuals in order of reverence, first to Jupiter, then to his emperor, Tiberius Julius Caesar, then to his governor, Pontius Pilate, and finally, to the tetrarch of Galilee, Herod Antipas. For his morning meal, he ate bread, figs, and a large serving of pork, in defiance of kashrut laws.

Once finished, Gershom walked outside, into the cluttered streets of Jerusalem. He was currently assisting in constructing a Roman fort in the area. However, today was different. He saw a procession of noble Roman soldiers, followed by a crowd of weeping Judean ruffians. Curious, he followed along, where he ran into who he considered his best friend and superior, Publius Cominius, a Roman watchman of Jerusalem, who was wearing a standard military tunic, sandals, and a crested helmet.

“Good morning, Publius,” Gershom greeted. He knelt down and kissed Publius’ feet, in order to honor him as a figure of authority. Publius sighed, disturbed by this gesture, but let him carry on.

“Ah, good morning, Gershom,” Publius replied as Gershom stood up. “I can’t talk for long. I’ve got to keep watch. Today has the entire city afoot.”

“What’s so special about today?” Gershom asked.

“The prefect has put Jesus to death,” Publius explained.

When Gershom heard this, he began giggling and jumped up and down with glee. He absolutely abhorred that radical insurrectionary Jesus of Nazareth, that accursed sorcerer, that false King of the Jews. Gershom had grown sick of Jesus’ moralistic preaching ever since He drove the moneychangers out of the Temple, proving that He hated free enterprise and industrious individuals. He was happy to hear that another loyal citizen, Judas Iscariot, had shed his allegiances to Him and turned Him over to the proper authorities. He was found guilty of perverting the nation, forbidding the payment of tribute, and sedition against the Roman Empire, charges with Gershom were wholeheartedly true and should be punished cruelly and unusually.

Gershom heard that Jesus had remained silent in his trial before the Sanhedrin, but was particularly rude to Pilate in his own court. This was proof that Jesus was a bigot, as he could hold his tongue for his fellow Judeans, but would mouth off like a boorish ingrate to his Roman superior. It was appallingly xenophobic of him, and Gershom was proud that the Sanhedrin had recognized their place and turned that atrocious carpenter over to the proper Roman authorities.

Gershom ran along the road with the procession, watching with joy as Roman soldiers whipped Jesus, as He carried the cross for his own crucifixion. They walked up to the hill of Golgotha, where Jesus was nailed to the cross, fitted with a crown of thorns, and hung up to die. Two other criminals, simple Judean thieves, were crucified on each side of Jesus. Oddly, the sky grew dark over Jerusalem, but Gershom paid no mind. In fact, he cheered the Roman soldiers on. A crowd of Judeans began to riot, and the Roman soldiers honorably beat them back with shields.

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” Jesus called out, looking to the sky.

“They know exactly what they’re doing!” Gershom shouted. “They are putting down a dirty rebel like you!” The crowd booed him, but he chose to ignore them.

“Today, you will be with me in paradise,” Jesus uttered to one of the thieves.

“No! Only hellfire awaits you!” Gershom laughed. He watched as Jesus’ mother, that indecent woman Mary, came to the hill with one of Jesus’ wretched disciples. He laughed in Mary’s face, as she wept over her son’s suffering.

“Woman, behold, thy son!” Jesus panted. “Son, behold, thy mother!”

“You’re all lunatics!” Gershom squealed. Mary kissed Jesus and left with the disciple, and the suffering continued.

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus cried out, his filthy rebel blood running down his body.

“Your god is false!” Gershom sneered. “Bow down before Jupiter!”

“I thirst,” Jesus croaked.

“You deserve no drink!” Gershom yelled. Jesus looked up at Gershom and smiled.

“It is finished,” Jesus uttered. His smile widened as he looked up into the sky. “Father, into thy hands, I commend my spirit.” With that, Jesus grew limp, dead on the cross. Gershom yelled with joy and pumped his fist into the air. One Roman soldier, a centurion named Longinus, prodded Jesus in the side with a spear, checking that he was dead. The ground began shaking, and people screamed in fear as the earth trembled beneath them.

“Truly this man was the Son of God!” Longinus cried out.

“No! No! No!” Gershom screamed. Angered at his Roman superior’s ungratefulness, Gershom stormed back to the city. He ran into Publius Cominius again, who was engaged in a quarrel with two Judean protestors. One had a sling with a rock inside it, and was ready to pelt Publius with it.

“You killed the Son of God, you bastard!” the protestor cried out.

“Stand down, citizen,” Publius said. “We can go about this peacefully.”

“I don’t care about peace,” the protestor screamed. “We want justice!”

“Justice was served,” Gershom sneered, standing in between Publius and the protestors. “If you want to strike down our noble law enforcement, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“Alright, then,” the protestor said. He swung the sling and sent a rock flying at Gershom’s head. A bright white flashed before the rock hit him, but he felt it slam directly between his eyes. He fell over and instantly blacked out.

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Gershom woke up in his house, feeling an intense headache. His head was wrapped in bandages, and he remembered what happened after the crucifixion. Damn Judean bastards, they only know how to resort to violence and nothing else.

“You’re finally awake,” a man’s voice said. Gershom looked to see a young man, with olive skin, dark golden locks, and white wings that emerged from his back.

“Who are you?” Gershom asked. “A messenger of Jupiter?”

“No, I am Gabriel,” the man explained. “A messenger of Yahweh.”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Gershom sighed. “I’m not joining your bigoted cult!”

“I cannot influence your choice of worship,” Gabriel began. “But you mocked the Son of God on the way to his death, and that is a cruel act. It has been three days, and He has risen from the dead and into Heaven, but your mockery is not forgotten. For your insolence and disrespect, you are rendered immortal, and you shall walk the earth until His Second Coming.”

“No, that’s unfair!” Gershom screamed. Gabriel disappeared in a flash of light, and Gershom was left alone. He walked outside, where his fellow Judean neighbors all looked at him with scorn. They knew he had mocked Jesus on the way to His death. They drove Gershom out of town, and he was forced to travel on foot to Rome, for he felt it was the only safe, non-barbaric place on this earth.

To this day, Gershom still walks the earth. He currently lives in the United States of America, where he dons a fedora, has stylized his facial hair into a neckbeard, and spends him time on websites like Reddit, Facebook, and Twitter, denouncing the teachings of Christ and defending police from accusations of brutality.