Bethesda Family Farm, MO — What began as a promising tourist attraction for the small farming community of Prynne, Missouri, quickly turned into a lesson in tempering expectations.
On Christmas morning, local farmer Yehudi Bethesda discovered what he described as “an unmistakable likeness of the Christ” on freshly deposited cow manure in his south pasture. The uncanny resemblance to Jesus, complete with flowing locks and a serene expression, led Bethesda to rope off the area and put up a hand-painted sign: Holy Cow Chip – Behold the Face of Our Lord 'n' Savior (Suggested Donation $2).
“At first, I just thought it was another pile of Annabelle's business,” said Bethesda, referring to his prized Holstein. “But when the light hit it just right, I saw Him. Clear as day. And I knew I had to share it with the world at a very affordable admission price.”
Bethesda’s nephew posted a shaky selfie video beside the miraculous mound on social media and expectations were high as Bethesda prepared for an influx of visitors. He hastily erected a makeshift souvenir stand selling hand-made “Holy Cow” t-shirts and jars of “Sacred Soil.” Bethesda’s wife, Sapphire, even baked gluten-free cookies resembling the blessed excrement.
But it became clear that the initial buzz was not translating into sustained foot traffic. After a peak crowd of eleven people on Thursday morning, attendance dwindled significantly. Bethesda, however, remained optimistic.
“Sure, it’s not the turnout I was hoping for, but the Lord works in mysterious ways,” he said. “Maybe this is just the overture. Who knows what’ll happen next—the Virgin Mary could manifest on an over-done pancake, or the Apostles could appear on a carton of eggs that are way past their sell-by date. You just gotta keep the faith.”
Skeptics of so-called “holy visitation” have been less charitable. Margaret Yikes, local geology hobbyist, dismissed the phenomenon as mere coincidence. “It’s called pareidolia,” she said, referring to the human tendency to see faces in random objects. “It’s manure, not a miracle.”
As for the sacred plop, its fifteen minutes of fame came to an end as heavy rains early Friday morning reduced the visage to a faint memory. Whether the image was a genuine sign from above or merely a product of fertile imaginations, one thing is certain: Bethesda Farm’s reputation remains unsoiled.