Several years ago my friend Sully and I decided there was a gap in the market for a religious themed fast food restaurant. Called 'The Fast Supper', the sample menu offered dishes such as Lamb of God with Peas Be With You and Judas IsCarrots, Satan Kidney Pie and Cheeses of Nazareth. We reluctantly abandoned the plan for fears that it would outrage religious sensibilities everywhere and piss off the Big Guy Upstairs.
I mention it now because here in Buenos Aires they have managed to go one better and have opened an entire theme park based on the life and work of Christ. I had heard about this place a few weeks ago from a genuinely scandalised visitor and knowing that the giftshop would be outstanding if nothing else, I looked it up on the internet. It is called Holy Land (Tierra Santa). I know I've told you to look a lot of things up during this blog but trust me, look it up- you won't be disappointed. I'd spent quite a lot of time developing a programme of rides- hoping against hope for a Jonah boat ride with a whale leaping out of the water like the Jaws shark at Universal Studios. This time, my expectations were completely matched and overwhelmed. (In your face, Bolivian Dinosaur Park!)
It's hard to know where to start- at the main entrance I was accosted by a Roman soldier with a walkie- talkie lurking under a plastic palm tree. He steered us towards the Nativity Scene, before informing us that due to weather conditions the Birth of Christ was taking place on a revised timetable. Would we care to wander up to Golgotha a admire the beautifully rendered Plastic Crucifixion scene, complete with mocking Roman centurions gnawing on a chicken leg and Jewish women wailing and beating their breasts? Well, alright then, but try and stick to the script for the rest of this, OK?
We got a little lost looking for the Rivers of Jordan waterfall, having taken a wrong turn at Joseph's carpentry shop (closed, alas! I was hoping to pick up some carved wooden trinkets for the folks back home). So we instead followed a sign to the Resurrection via a grotto in which St George was slaying a poorly rendered dragon and a suggestions box where you could leave your own requests for your Guardian Angel. Plastic Pope John Paul II appeared to have been quarantined (for purposes unknown) in a large glass case, perhaps fearing another plastic assassination attempt. After a while things got a little peevish- "We should have gone left at the Beatitudes". "That is the sixth time you have redirected us to the Wailing Wall". Rounding a corner, we were startled to find Lazarus, covered in what appeared to be string and egg whites, advancing upon an unperturbed Jesus who was signalling for a waiter or possibly attempting a Turn Undead spell.
This was all so far beyond my expectations for tasteless awfulness that I began to feel serious, Catholic levels of guilt for being in the place. Poor Chris, desperately searching for some Methodism in this madness, held up bravely until an inspection of the winter timetable showed that the giant Jesus we had seen on the side of the plastic Gologotha moments before was the long awaited Resurrection, showing hourly at ten to the hour. "He pops up and down" my poor boy fumed, clutching his head in despair "like some sort of ecclesiastical jack-in-the-box".
Fearing a crisis of faith and/or possibly a smiting, we decided to have a sit-down amongst other disciples in the Animatronic Last Supper Spectacular. "Many visitors find this the most moving part of the park" the leaflet trumpeted (the ironic play on words didn't translate into spanish). As the lights dimmed a Spanish Charlton Heston solemnly intoned the narrative from the Gospels as a selection of disco lights played over the tableau. Then, at the breaking of the bread part, the mechanised disciples all turned as Our Animatronic Lord spread his arms wide, turned his head and stared RIGHT at me (bit frightening, that) and then opening and shutting his mouth to resemble talking, he gave thanks and praise (via the voiceover). This was repeated with the wine before the RoboSaviour turned and threw a withering look at Judas and patting St Peter awkwardly on the arm. Finally the music reached a crescendo and the lights came up to enthusiastic applause from the audience of pensioners and schoolchildren. I sat genuinely stunned.
Well, I could go on and on. After a stop at a gift shop (all the staff are obliged to wear Palestinian head towels, including the maintenance men) to stock up on religious tat (buy your Frankincense and Myrrh here! Ooh, how much for that Last Supper keyring?) we snacked on a Holy Hotdog before heading off to see some more treats. Why, here is the Wailing Wall! Apparently if you leave a prayer here we'll post it to the actual wall in Jerusalem. Look, there's Jesus throwing the moneylenders out of the temple! And look, you can buy some hummus over here, because that's what Jesus ate. We enjoyed the delights of the Nativity at last (flying cherubs, crazy party lighting- they stopped just short of a glitterball but it was a close one). At The Creation we were treated to Enya, which is apparently what God listened to while he was making the Garden of Eden out of some green lasers, dry ice and a lot of leftover animatronic animals from another theme park. We poked around the back streets of Jerusalem before stumbling across the Mount of Olives and fetching up in the far corner where, in a sop to other world religions, we found Gandhi, Martin Luther, a small synagogue and a replica plastic mosque. A sign outside the mosque asked visitors to take their shoes off before going inside the plastic mosque. It seemed a bit late in the day to be worried about offending anyone's religious principles, but why the hell not?
By this stage it was becoming really hard to maintain a grip on rising hysteria. But there was one more, the grand finale to end all finales. I refer of course to the Resurrection itself. We sat in a plastic amphitheatre with an expectant throng of guests. Then, acompanied by the soaring strains of the Hallelujah Chorus, the earth split and the 60ft Messiah rose imperiously from the ground. He is risen! Hallelujah! What's he doing now? Ah, he's turning to bless the multitudes. Hallelujah! He is risen! What's this? He is descending! That's not right- wait, come back!! No, show's over. But Fear Not, the Lord will rise again at ten to three and every hour until closing time.
All jokes aside, I honestly can't pass judgement on any of this. Of course it was awful; and unquestioningly, arrestingly bizarre . But it was certainly popular. The schoolchildren were lapping it up, and didn't seem to be doing so in a mocking or disrespectful way. The park genuinely seemed to be serious about bringing Christianity to life for its visitors and, while I am not at all sure about the methodology, I can't really fault the sentiment. And in its own unique way it definitely shed an interestingly light on how people relate to religion here. Which was certainly thought- provoking. I'm still thinking about it.
I leave you with this thought: They may have made some spectacular advances in animatronics these days but I say verily unto you, God still moves in the most mysterious ways.
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