The Tiffany Jesus

Click on photo to see the real church where this window is.

An early snowfall had blanketed the forested hills of Vermont.  A big black sedan roared through the small town, ignoring the ice and slush on the road until it was too late.  There by the bridge over the river, its driver missed the curve, lost control and hit a telephone pole head on.  And for reasons only known to God and BMW, the airbags did not fire.  The drunk driver’s head impacted the steering wheel with a bludgeoning blow.  It was like a scene out of “It’s a Wonderful Life” except there was no wonderful life in the car.

The driver awoke dazed in his crushed vehicle.  Falling snow landed on the steaming remains of the engine, making a cackling sound as if fate was laughing at his stupidity.  He blinked a couple of times and tried to get some sense of awareness of his situation. He smelled gas, which awoke his need for self preservation.  He poured out of the car and onto the snow.  Stumbling to his feet, he threw up and limped toward a light past the Green.

The stone church blended into the white and gray countryside but it’s bright red door beckoned like a snow-covered siren. He wiped his forehead: A warm, syrupy goo flowed into his eyes and face — he was bleeding profusely. When he grabbed the door handle, his hand was the same color as the painted wood.

He stumbled inside.

The nave was dark.  The interior of the church was old black oak with exquisite stained glass from nearly every period of stained glass art.  But all were dark. It was 5 a.m. and the sun was far from rising.  His blurry vision focused at the end of the church. There, over the altar, was a precious stained glass window designed by the brilliant designer Louis Comfort Tiffany himself.  The risen Christ looked out on the nave with arms raised as if to suggest an invitation for comfort. He limped toward it.

There, on the alter, world-renowned CEO Bradley S. Hollingsworth collapsed into a bloody heap on the polished oak floor.

While it would be cliche to say his life flashed before his eyes, that’s exactly what happened.  He awoke in the gym of his elementary school. The vast room smelled like varnish and Bradley looked down at the red rubber ball in his hand. He was twice as large as the other children on the other side.  Battle-ball was his favorite sport.  He found one overweight kid he loved to pick on and threw the ball at his face with all of his might. “TAKE THAT TUBBY TEDDY!” he mocked. But when the ball hit the boy’s face, HE felt the pain. His nose exploded and he saw a flash of light.  He experienced shame and the embarrassment for the first time in his life.  He felt what Tubby was feeling.

He opened his eyes again only to find himself on his high school bus.  Two seats up in front of him was the Autistic boy who he used to love to make fun of.  Bradley started taunting the child and suddenly, he felt the confusion. The rage. The fear. He couldn’t escape the pain of the laughter. What was going on?  “Make this nightmare stop!” he screamed.

He woke up in the sheets of his bed.  “Good, it was just a dream,” he thought. But to his horror, there lying next to him was the young nubile assistant from accounting. NOT AGAIN! He panicked as the door flew open. There stood his wife, the love of his life, erupting in waves of tears and anger.  Suddenly his heart felt her heart’s anguish. Her sense of betrayal. Her pain.

He sat at his mahogany desk and signed some papers. The U.S. Government had just bailed out his company.  Too big to fail, they called it.  His bonus was going to be too big to cash, he snickered. But to get that bonus, he had to lay off thousands of middle-class employees, casting them in to the sea of the Great Recession. “They’re only numbers,” he reassured himself as he signed the final approval of the massive layoff.  Suddenly he felt the fear and uncertainty of all 34,000 of the employees whose life he had just ruined.  He fell to the floor in anguish.

The door of the church flew open but not because of the wind.  A bright red glow had replaced the snow as two men in black overcoats walked down the rows toward him. Neither had faces. Bradley felt fear like he never had before in his life. His skin burned as they grabbed his legs and started dragging him back out of the church.

Bradley, having run out of options for the first time of his life, reached his hand up toward the Tiffany Jesus and cried out the only two words he could:

Forgive me.

A white flash lit the dark nave with the brilliance of a million suns. The two men screamed a banshee’s scream as they disintegrated into a pile of black ash. Bradley was bathed in a warm glow.  For the first time in his life, he felt empathy. And then he felt peace.

The next morning, a policeman found the crumbled BMW and called an ambulance. The policeman and the EMT’s followed the trail of bloody footprints through the white snow to the little gray stone church.  As they walked into the dark nave, they saw the spectacularly illuminated Tiffany Jesus.  And beneath it, bathed in a sunbeam pouring through its priceless stained glass was the body of a forgiven Bradley S. Hollingsworth.

About how I came up with the idea for this story.