1 requires that you’ve seen enough fiction about robotic battlesuits (“mecha”) to treat them as part of the medium rather than the Message.
Apostle Mark has a mecha. It transforms into a fish. Apostle Luke has a mecha. It transforms into Caesar. Even Judas has a robot battlesuit. It’s not very big, but it’s made of shiny silver.
In this time of troubles, when mecha and angels walk the world, Jesus is special. He does not have a mecha. This is a verifiable historical fact. You can check any of the gospels. You can check with any Bible studies course. You can check the archaeological records for Rome. No giant robot. This is his fatal weakness. If he had a mecha, or even a robot battlesuit, he’d laugh in the Pilate’s face. But he doesn’t. So the Pilate attaches him to a crucifix and he dies.
There are many people in Hell. One of them is Saul. The people in Hell have not had a chance to hear the gospel of Christ. This is because they died before Christ was around to have a gospel. So as part of the grandfather clause governing these arrangements, Jesus has to go down to Hell to save the people there.
He does so.
“Hello!” he calls. “I need virtuous pagans!”
The demons start torturing him.
“Virtuous pagans? Anyone?”
Saul emerges from the staring pack of souls.
“Are you virtuous?” Jesus asks.
“I killed people,” Saul says, “and ate them. But on the other hand, I never had the chance to hear the Good Word. So possibly that’s why I was so sinful.”
“Doctrine allows for this possibility,” Jesus says.
“I had a platinum mecha,” Saul says. “Its terrible maw would grind people up for me before I ate them. It was predigested. Like I was a baby bird! This too served to shelter me from the moral implications of my actions.”
“I see. . . . Would you like to hear the Good Word, then?”
“No.” Saul shakes his head. “I just wanted to know . . . does it feel different?”
“Well,” Saul says. “I’ve been getting tortured here for doing horrible things. And you’re being tortured for being some kind of messiah. And I wanted to know. Does it feel any different?”
“I’m only here for three days.”
“Without that?” Saul asks.
“No,” Jesus says. “It would be the same.”
“That’s not the answer you wanted?”
“I keep trying for strength,” Saul says. “And it never helps. And I thought that maybe it was because I was a bad person.”
“No,” Jesus says. He shrugs. “Pain is pain. Torture is torture. It’s all the same.”
“Strength doesn’t help?” Jesus asks.
“It’s strength,” Saul says. “I like strength. But it doesn’t stop it from happening.”
There’s a pause.
“If I had a giant robot battlesuit,” Jesus says, “then I could cut the demons away from you with a laser sword.”
“That’s what Buddha said, too,” Saul admits.
“You messiahs talk a good game,” Saul says, “but without a mecha, isn’t your faith just so much hot air?”
“I can be three people at once,” Jesus points out. “One of them is omnipotent.”
“. . . that’s pretty good,” Saul admits. “But I won’t really be impressed unless one of you has a mystical insemination coilgun attachment and a glossolalia-inducing nerve taser.”
There’s a pause.
“What a ridiculous idea,” Jesus answers.