✝️ Republican Jesus vs. Libertarian Jesus
By The Beacon Editorial Staff (with divine consultation withheld)
Just kidding — written with ChatGPT by Pat Wright
Somewhere in the clouds, two Jesuses are having an argument.
Republican Jesus is wearing an American flag tie and clutching a Constitution that conveniently skips the Fourth Amendment. He wants to make sure everyone knows he loves freedom — as long as it’s the kind you can legislate.
He’s pro-life, pro-war, pro-tax cuts, and pro-telling-you-how-to-live. He prays before football games, votes to ban your vices, and believes the Founding Fathers were basically the Twelve Apostles in powdered wigs. His sermons come with PowerPoints, campaign donations, and a strong suspicion that the poor are just bad investors.
Meanwhile, Libertarian Jesus is over at the next table in a tie-dye robe, scrolling through his phone to see if anyone has finally read the platform. He’s skeptical of government miracles, but he’s also skeptical that anyone in his congregation can agree on what freedom actually means.
He’s against aggression, taxation, and committees. He’s for peace, voluntary kindness, and maybe—just maybe—a bake sale to fund the roads. He could save the world, but only if everyone signs a non-disclosure and waives liability first.
Republican Jesus wants to outlaw sin. Libertarian Jesus just wants to make sin optional and tax-free. Republican Jesus says, “There ought to be a law.” Libertarian Jesus says, “There ought not.” And then the room goes quiet while he explains the Non-Aggression Principle for the forty-seventh time.
To be fair, both Jesuses agree on personal responsibility. Republican Jesus thinks everyone should pull themselves up by their sandal straps. Libertarian Jesus thinks you’re free to trip over yours, as long as you don’t make him pay for your hospital bill.
In the end, Republican Jesus builds a megachurch with a tax exemption and a security fence. Libertarian Jesus sets up a meeting in the back room of a brewpub — attendance: seven, quorum: maybe.
Both believe they’re saving the world. One just wants to do it through Congress; the other through voluntary association and a really good meme strategy.
And just when things start to settle, Democratic Jesus strolls in — latte in hand, entourage of interns behind him — to announce a new program where everyone gets free loaves and fishes… funded by mandatory tithes and a sustainability surcharge.
He promises to forgive your student loans, but first he needs you to fill out a 47-page application and attend a seminar on collective compassion. He assures Republican Jesus he’ll “tax the rich,” then glances nervously at the mirror. He tells Libertarian Jesus, “You can opt out,” then quietly changes the definition of “opt.”
Now all three are arguing over whose miracle needs a permit. The water-to-wine initiative was denied on environmental grounds, the free healing clinic shut down for lack of insurance, and the Sermon on the Mount postponed pending an acoustic impact study.
Somewhere, the real Jesus just shakes his head and mutters, “This is why I never joined a political party.”
Editor’s note: This is satire. Not everyone loved it. You can’t please everyone—and you shouldn’t try.
I’d rather publish something memorable than something sterile. —Pat
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