As if confused by the holidays, the Jesus of Wyckoff Street has rolled away the stone — or opened the glass door — to leave his phone booth sized home. The life-sized plaster statue of Christ crucified that for many years adorned the block of Wyckoff between Smith and Court streets has flown the coop, along with the owners of the brownstone He stood before.

There goes the neighborhood.

That was my old neighborhood and back in the day the long-suffering savior was a reminder that you were not in Manhattan anymore. Like the battle of the Christmas lights that occurred on First Place each holiday season, or the mobbed-up restaurant Marco Polo, the Wyckoff Jesus was a real slice of Italian Catholic whaddya-whaddya Brooklyn. When He went, He took some of Cobble Hill’s character with him.

There had been other signs of the Apocalypse in downtown Brooklyn of late; the pizza place at the corner of Warren got menus and booths and started charging $2 for a slice, and before that the Musician’s General Store went out of business clearing the way for another Starbucks, presumably.

Another former Hill dweller told me that the folks who owned the Jesus house finally sold out (no doubt pocketing a cool mil or more) and gave the Son of God the send off He deserved. A little parade escorted Christ to one of the nearby Catholic churches, one that has not been converted into apartments, where He will dwell forever and ever, amen.

Long after Heath and Michelle have moved on…