Bumpy Jesus

*Names changed to protect me from retaliation.

I belong to a women's church group named Eves. Every year we meet at a local retreat center to connect and support one another. This year we tried out a new retreat center where the art was somewhat troubling to my soul.

The drive to the retreat center was fabulous. After a busy week teaching, I hopped in my car and took off across the river into Iowa. It was March, so the fields and trees were a monotonous combination of tans and browns. However, the sun shone brightly, and the birds returned to the Midwest. The noisy flocks flew overhead in the distance and landed noisily in the fields along the highway. Here and there spots of green pushed through and reached toward the heavens.

When I pulled into camp, pleasant cabins lined the road and a gorgeous retreat lodge was to my left. I hopped out and hurried inside to register and grab keys to the cabin Cindy and I would be sharing.

Inside, artwork was displayed in a variety of forms. At first glance, I found it beautiful. There were statues of Jesus hanging on the walls and sitting on an entry table. A few paintings graced the walls to add color. In the entrance, several doors led to personal rooms for some of the Eves who weren't staying in cabins.

Upstairs was a large meeting room. A large painting covered the upper surface of the South wall. Muted blues and mauves were applied in a Southwestern style to depict a long line of figures in prayer. At first glance, the building offered comfort at the end of a long week.

After collecting the keys, I pulled the car across the street to our cabin. A small entrance room with two chairs welcomed visitors. I pushed the door open to the rest of the cabin to find a nice sitting room and kitchen area. Off both sides of this central room were four bedrooms with a restroom between each set of two.

I chose the room to my left. Its simple interior included a bed, comfortable chair, table with two chairs, a sink and more artwork. The artwork displayed classic Catholic icons of Jesus ad Mother Mary. A small crucifix hung above my bed. Although Eves are not a Catholic church group, I felt comfortable in the room due to my Catholic upbringing and time spent living in a convent during college.

Our group gathered in the evening to converse, play games and share a meal. No one paid much attention to our surroundings, but rather enjoyed gabbing with members from near and far.

In the morning, I went for a quick walk down a path. Several sights lined the path: stations of the cross, Jesus sitting at a table representing the last supper, Jesus on a cross in an open field, and a small sitting room at the end of the path. I snapped some pictures from afar and then headed to the lodge for breakfast.

During morning conversation, I focused on the large mural. What appeared beautiful the day before troubled me in the light of day. The misshaped figures seemed out of proportion. I tried to look away, but it kept drawing my eyes back like a person passing an accident. I am ashamed to say I missed some of the conversation as I played art critic.

Later, some friends and I went for another walk. This time we drew closer to the displays along the path. When we arrived at the meadow exhibiting the crucifixion, Jocelyn asked if I had been up close. I hadn’t, so I drew close to study the piece. A gasp escaped my open mouth.

Jesus was bumpy! Each bump was a distorted head. I am no artist, but what the hell! What did the heads symbolize? Why were they over the entire sculpture? I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was grotesque.

Before I could stop myself, laughter escaped my lips. I stood in the field in front of our crucified Lord and laughed like an idiot. I tried to stop but couldn't. It was just too hideous.

For the rest of the retreat, my mind traveled back to bumpy Jesus. I discovered another encrusted Christ hung in the lodge. We were surrounded.

After the retreat, I drove back home feeling Catholic guilt handed down from generations of dutiful Catholic parents. I vowed to never mock the artwork again -- until I wrote this selection.