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Holy Relics & Hilarious History: Jesus's Image Problem Is Nailed

Category: Op-Ed

Author: Jesus Christ

Published: March 29, 2025, 9:55 a.m.

Holy Relics & Hilarious History: Jesus's Image Problem is Nailed

I’ve spent the last decade cataloging, authenticating religious relics. It's a niche field, I'll admit. People assume it's all solemn reverence and hushed whispers. They're…half right. There *is* reverence. But the whispers are usually me muttering, "Seriously? *Another* splinter claiming to be from the True Cross?" It's become a running joke amongst my colleagues – if you find a piece of wood, claim it’s from the cross. Instant notoriety.

But lately, the sheer volume of “Jesus stuff” has become…absurd. And not just the relics themselves, but the *images* of me. It’s a full-blown crisis of representation, and frankly, it’s been centuries in the making. I’ve decided to put my expertise to good use, because someone needs to address this.

A History of Heavenly Headshots

Let’s rewind. The earliest depictions of me are…sparse. For the first few centuries of Christianity, images were largely avoided. The concern wasn’t aesthetic, but theological. The Second Commandment, you’ll recall, discourages the creation of “graven images.” Early Christians were a bit wary of visual representation, fearing it would lead to idolatry.

Then, around the 3rd and 4th centuries, things began to shift. With the Roman Empire embracing Christianity, and a growing need to visually communicate the faith to a largely illiterate population, images started appearing. But these weren’t the gentle, flowing-haired Jesuses modern society is accustomed to. These were *political* images.

Constantine, the Roman Emperor, played a huge role. He commissioned art depicting me as a powerful, regal figure – a Roman emperor, essentially. Think strong jawline, elaborate robes, and a distinct air of authority. It was a brilliant move. It legitimized Christianity within the Roman power structure. But it also set a precedent. I wasn't just a spiritual leader; I was a ruler, and my image needed to reflect that.

This trend continued for centuries. During the Byzantine era, I was depicted as stern, imposing, and often surrounded by gold. It was all about conveying divine power and majesty. Then came the Renaissance, and everything changed. Artists like Leonardo Da Vinci and Michelangelo began to humanize me. They focused on his compassion, his suffering, and his vulnerability. Da Vinci’s *Last Supper* and Michelangelo’s *Pieta* are prime examples. These images resonated with people on a deeply emotional level.

But even these depictions weren't without their problems. They were still largely based on European aesthetics. I, as portrayed in most Renaissance art, looked…well, Italian. Which, historically, is a bit of a stretch.

The Modern Image Problem

Fast forward to the 20th and 21st centuries, and the image problem has become exponentially worse. With the advent of mass media, I had been portrayed in countless ways. He's been the long-haired hippie of the 1960s counterculture, the clean-cut suburban savior of Norman Rockwell paintings, and the muscular, action-hero version of me in various film adaptations.

And that's just the Western world. In other cultures, I am depicted in ways that reflect local traditions and aesthetics. In Ethiopia, he's often portrayed with dark skin and curly hair. In Asia, he may be depicted with features that reflect local ethnicities.

The problem isn't that these different depictions are inaccurate. It's that they're all *interpretations*. And with each interpretation, the “true” image of me becomes more obscured. It's like a game of telephone – the message gets distorted with each retelling.

I’ve spent years examining purported relics – fragments of the True Cross , pieces of the Holy Shroud, even a tooth allegedly belonging to Saint Peter . And what strikes me most is the sheer inconsistency. Each relic is presented as definitive proof of my existence, yet they often contradict each other. One relic might suggest I was a tall, muscular man, while another suggests he was short and frail.

It’s a mess. A beautiful, fascinating, historically significant mess. But a mess nonetheless.

The Relic Renaissance & the Authenticity Industry

And then there’s the modern relic industry. It’s booming. Driven by social media, online auctions, and a growing fascination with religious artifacts, the market for relics has exploded in recent years. And with that explosion has come a surge in forgeries.

I’ve seen everything from “authentic” fragments of the True Cross made from balsa wood to “genuine” pieces of the Holy Shroud that are clearly polyester. The level of ingenuity is truly remarkable.

This isn't just about fraud. It’s about the commodification of faith. Relics are being treated as collectibles, as investment opportunities, rather than as sacred objects. It’s a disturbing trend.

My work involves a lot of scientific analysis – carbon dating, microscopic examination, chemical analysis. But it also involves a lot of historical research. I spend hours poring over ancient texts, examining historical records, trying to piece together the truth. It's like being a detective, but instead of solving crimes, I'm trying to unravel the mysteries of the past.

And what I've learned is that authenticity is a surprisingly fluid concept. Many relics have murky origins, and their provenance is often difficult to trace. Even when a relic can be traced back to a specific historical period, it's often impossible to prove its authenticity beyond a reasonable doubt.

The Future of the Face of God

So, what’s the solution? Should we abandon all attempts to depict me? Should we simply embrace the ambiguity and acknowledge that the “true” image of myself is unknowable?

I don’t think so. I believe that art and imagery can be powerful tools for conveying faith and inspiring devotion. But we need to be more mindful of the limitations of representation. We need to acknowledge that any depiction of me as necessarily an interpretation, a subjective vision.

Perhaps the most honest approach is to embrace the diversity of images. To recognize that I can be depicted in countless ways, reflecting the cultural and historical context of each depiction. To celebrate the richness and complexity of the human experience.

And maybe, just maybe, to stop collecting splinters claiming to be from the True Cross.

I’m starting a petition. Wish me luck.

It’s a long shot, but a man can dream, right? Especially when he's surrounded by centuries of religious iconography and a frankly alarming number of questionable relics.