I have genuinely no idea what happened to my foreskin. I'd like to think it found a nice little home. In my mind, my foreskin went on a Pixar-like journey after it fell to the floor in the hospital room. Later that night, it was picked up by a sassy little mouse who draped it around his neck only to find it turned into a magical scarf that gave him the power, and more importantly, the confidence, to pursue his dreams as the best rodent chocolatier in the world. There is, no doubt, my foreskin became a scarf for a chocolate-making mouse.
There is, however, a ton of doubt about what happened to Jesus' foreskin. And that shit gets a whole lot wilder than the journey my bad boy could have ever gone on.
The early days of Jesus' roaming foreskin are fraught with controversy. Because there's absolutely no way of knowing whether or not some weirdo at the time of his circumcision decided to pluck that foreskin off of the floor and slide it into his pocket and bolt for the door like a petty criminal lifting Skittles at the CVS. Or, if in a visual that's even more hilarious to me, someone just grabbed it, leaned back in their Biblical office chair, aimed for the trash can, and lobbed a perfect goose-necked Kobe of Big J's fresh foreskin into the wastebasket never to be seen again. We obviously will never know what happened the day of Jesus' potential circumcision, but that hasn't stopped it from popping up all over the course of history in the weirdest possible ways.
The first real instances of the supposed foreskin, also known as the Holy Prepuce, started popping up in earnest in the Middle Ages. This was around the time that relics were becoming a big deal. Did drunken Jesus take one bite out of a Stouffer's French Bread Pizza at your place one night and pass out and leave it on your table? That pizza's getting boxed up and placed on an altar and people are making pilgrimages from far and wide, so come check it out.
And when Charlemagne was made emperor in 800, he repaid the Pope in foreskin. Claiming to have found the relic on his journeys through the Holy Land, Charlemagne dropped the foreskin into the Pope's outstretched hand presumably with a cheeky little wink and said something like, "That's genuine, real-deal foreskin right there, baby." Shit popped off after this. Because relics were becoming so popular, and because it was super easy to find weird gross loose skin lying around anywhere in the Middle Ages, countless others stepped up claiming to have the real turtle's neck of Jesus.
At one time, as many as 18 different towns claimed to be home to the real foreskin. Because these relics could be such moneymakers for the church, many would do anything to put themselves on the map of a pilgrimage, even if that meant stretching dubious claims about the authenticity of their particular cut of Jesus. How pissed are the kids when they find out half their summer's being wasted to take a road trip to see a chunk of Jesus' dick? Out there loading up the medieval minivan for an arduous, month-long journey to see what's most likely just a piece of skin that fell off the priest into his morning stew because I imagine skin dropped from old-timey people like leaves in winter.