Once, there was a tour of a passion play. Jesus was played by a six-foot-something Adonis. He was big, hulking, and gorgeous, which is appropriate since everyone knows Jesus had a six-pack. At each performance, he easily carried his giant cross before sailing on it up to heaven.
Well, one night the actor got sick, and Jesus didn’t have an understudy. The only option was to send on the tiny, scrawny, somewhat less attractive stage manager as Jesus. He couldn’t act. He couldn’t lift the giant cross at all. Other actors had to carry it the whole time. But the poor little guy made it through.
They crucified him, and it was finally his time to sail on the cross to heaven. The only problem was that in all the excitement of putting in a new Jesus, they had forgotten to change the counter weights on the cross. For a description of why this is very, very bad, please click here. The unsuspecting stage hand went to hoist Jesus to heaven, but without any warning, Jesus and his cross shot up into the air and all you could hear was Jesus shout, “Holy Shit!” before the cross hit the rigging above the stage with a loud and unfortunate clang.
Half the audience stormed out, enraged at this offensive portrayal of Jesus (I mean, come on. What kind of Jesus isn’t sexy and swears?), and the other half peed in their seats. As far as I know, the sexy Jesus recovered and went back into the show, and the poor little assistant stage manager recovered from his flight, but never from the humiliation.