Jesus went to be baptized, to confess the sin of his being born. The pressure bore down, a past he could neither escape nor repair. “If it weren’t for me,” he told John often, “you’d still have a father.” The wound bright, vivid and sparkling.
The villagers called him the crippled boy who carries his past on his shoulders like a house.
From a great distance he heard John calling, “You breed of vipers!” in a voice fierce with certainty.
And Jesus told himself, John is right. I am a viper.
Enrique Martínez Celaya
The House, 2010
Oil and wax on canvas
180 x 132 in.
©Enrique Martínez Celaya. Courtesy of the artist
