On a piece of sheet metal?

On the side of a tree?

On some bedroom furniture in Romania?  Or the drywall in Alabama?

With his mother in a Chicago underpass?

With his mother on a grilled cheese sandwich?  You know, she’s the sandwich; he’s the potato chips? No, that’s silly.  Jesus wouldn’t be on a potato chip — he’d be in some pasta!

Nope.  Jesus is none of those places today.

Jesus has been hiding underground — under some asparagus growing in England.

He’s either puckering up for a kiss, or he’s sticking his tongue out.  I can’t tell.