M. Beisenherz: Sorry, I’m here privately
Get up if you are a Jesus!
© Illustration: Dieter Braun/stern
Easter has long since become an event. Our columnist also has to come up with more than just chocolate eggs.
By Mickey Beisenherz
When it’s not just the drug dealers in Görlitzer Park who frantically let things disappear into the bushes, that means it’s Easter time. Those three days when Jesus was first crucified in front of the slavering rabble – and then stood back on the mat on Sundays as the much-acclaimed Redeemer. A career that Robert Habeck is likely to dream of more often.
The Passion of the Christ is a spectacularly marvelesque superhero story. So captivating that the superstar channel RTL Easter 2022 could not avoid performing and broadcasting its own passion plays live in Essen at prime time. With Jesus Alexander Klaws, narrator Thommy Gottschalk and calamity magnet Martin Semmelrogge as Barabas, who, as a precaution, was not even given a microphone in the live situation. In this cuddly musical, a skinny-jeans Jesus was seen dragging a huge LED cross over the Rüttenscheid gourmet mile, and I think it’s a real crime to withhold such an event from the spectators this year.
Easter has long been the little Christmas Eve
Yes, beyond Maundy Thursday we celebrate the greatest festival that Christianity has to offer, even though the general public perceives Christmas as much more important. To correct this imbalance, many educators are preparing to adapt to the high mass in December in terms of gifts. Easter has long been the little Christmas Eve. If Ann-Sophie used to be happy with a new set of colored pencils, today you have to be happy if little Justin doesn’t ram the vermilion red Faber-Castell in your eye so that the idiot dad kindly thinks about the Playstation next year.
The sweets hidden in bushes and behind trees should make Cem Özdemir seethe with anger. Rarely has a child been so willfully lured towards type 2 diabetes. In the absence of a garden, I myself regularly hid chocolate eggs and bunnies between tulips and bushes on the Altona balcony with a view of the Elbe. I had to be there early enough before my daughter and her mum approached, but not too early so that the dogs didn’t tumble at the moderately well-hidden goodies during their walk.
Easter has always marked the current state of society in recent years. The crossroads between a long, dreary winter and early summer hope. In 2022, Russia’s still fairly fresh war of aggression clouded the mood. A country between shock and humility. Now that the war has become, well, “endemic” in our part of the world, most people are interested in the weather when hunting for eggs.
After all, you would love to sit in the sun and drink Campari while the little ones chase after the high-calorie clutch. You deserve it. That would have been unthinkable at the beginning of the pandemic, when we were told, not quite unhysterically, that a search operation outdoors would almost certainly ensure that a new Covid variant would be found in the undergrowth alongside nougat and smiling bunnies.
Just think of the sensationally stupid “Easter peace” from the Merkel-Laschet team, which laid the foundation for Olaf Scholz’s chancellorship in March 2021. It was so absurd that I would watch it again live as a musical on RTL.
I’ll leave that up to your imagination to decide who will surprisingly appear there like Jesus.