Jesus is like my mother in that they both want me to tell them everything. “No secrets,” they’d say. Jesus and my mother are both martyrs. And they don’t let you forget it. Jesus is like my mom in that they are both a mystery. Also, other people really, really like them, but I can’t seem to jive with either. They love to invite people over, but the only thing they have in the fridge is bread and wine. Our conversations tend to be one-way. They both wear moo-moos and slippers. And they both believe they can solve all your problems with a simple hug.