The Parable Of The Snark

A sepia-toned image of a man holding a lit lantern aloft inside a fog-filled church. Behind him, a glowing image of Jesus is projected on a screen as the congregation sits in shadow. — Image created with DALL-E

We’ve reached a point in American Christianity where the name of Jesus gets invoked more often as a marketing strategy than as a path to follow. Churches trade in brand identity, not radical love. Jesus is co-opted, merchandised, and bent to fit whatever culture war slogan the faithful need to feel righteous. And if you dare to ask where the real Jesus went? Well, prepare to be laughed out of the sanctuary.

This short parable is a modern homage to Nietzsche’s Parable of the Madman—except this time, the lantern isn’t searching for God. It’s hunting down the real Jesus, lost somewhere between the merch table and the MAGA hat rack.

The Parable of the Snark

Have you not heard of the Prophet of Snark?

On a Sunday morning, when the haze of fog machines filled the sanctuary and the praise band reached its crescendo, he burst through the aisles carrying a lit lantern. The lights were already blinding, but he lifted it high and cried out:

“Where is Jesus? Where have you hidden him?”

The congregation laughed. Some waved their branded coffee mugs. One pointed to the LED wall where a photogenic Jesus beamed above the lyrics.

Another shouted, “He’s here—in our merch, in our slogans, in our mission statements!” Others nodded and clapped: “He’s on our bumper stickers, in our political platforms, in our nation’s flag!”

The Snark climbed onto the stage, scattering the worship team’s chord charts. He thrust the lantern aloft and declared:

“You fools. The church has killed him. Not upon a Roman cross, but with your sermons drained of substance, your slogans swollen with power. You gutted his teachings and stuffed him full of your politics. You wrapped him in nationalism, stitched him together with consumerism and fear, and paraded him as your mascot Christ. Behold, a savior made of logos and flags!”

The laughter faltered, but only for a moment. Then came the retorts:

“Don’t be dramatic.”
“We’re a Christian Nation.”
“My pastor says the Bible is pro‑gun.”
“Jesus would vote like us!”

The Snark shook his head and muttered:

“I have come too soon. These people cannot see that Jesus is not in their pulpits or their praise songs or their political rallies. He is out in the streets, hungry, unhoused, wounded, and forgotten. But they have embalmed him in brand identity, and now worship the embalming itself.”

And so he blew out his lantern, passed through the fog and the glow of LED lights, and left the sanctuary. But still he whispered:

“Christ is co‑opted, and you have merchandised him.
You killed the man, and in his place built a brand.
You preach a freedom that binds, a hope that divides, a love that only looks like you.
You’ve made him palatable, profitable, patriotic.
But he never came to be liked.
He came to be followed.”

Draped in flags. Sold as freedom. Worshiped as empire.