(excerpt from Elemental Desire)
God. She thought about God, remembered how she’d managed him, how she’d kept him at a safe remove. Though she had joked about religion, God was a serious subject. Religion was one thing, God another. Especially the Hebrew God. Especially Jesus. She left Jesus undefined. How he got himself christened with thorns, labeled King of the Jews and nailed to a cross was a discussion she’d always avoided. Why hadn’t he ended up in a bedtime story like Geppetto or The Wooden Soldier, The Velveteen Rabbit or the lucky Cinderella? Those stories made sense. They were the kind of miracle stories people wanted. Take Pinnochio for instance, Geppetto had the sense to credit the Blue Fairy for Pinnochio’s life. Blue fairies don’t include blood. And those donkeys? What child has not at one time or another brayed with the best of donkeys? And what donkey has not played the stubborn child? Who could blame Pinnochio for going astray? All he had for a guide was an insect crammed in a top hat and a piccolo voice. But raising the dead? Giving sight to the blind? Mobility to the crippled? Allowing his own crucifixion? Jesus is all about freedom, transformation, good winning against evil. What government would not put an end to that idea?