Jesus on the Gridiron

Last week at Beaverton’s Washington Square Mall, I spotted a young man wearing a football jersey that prominently displayed the name of…not of Marcus Mariota, Russell Wilson or, heaven forbid, Tom Brady… but of Jesus Christ.

To be exact, the black jersey read in bold, white letters...

           Jesus
               1

No team affiliation was indicated put I presume it was broadly Christian.

I’m not a Christian although I am a Quaker, and like all Quakers, I take the historical Jesus seriously.

I should quickly add that most of my fellow Quakers consider themselves Christians and accept the Jesus of Christianity and of the Bible. Therein, Jesus is number one, or 1 ... and the Son of God.

I also believe that the words of theology, including those of Christianity, should not separate us. We are of the same spirit. It resides beyond words. It resides in silence.

So here I am in the Washington Square Mall, a vast cathedral of consumption, and my attention lingers on the young man sporting his “Jesus 1” football jersey.

Long after he passed by,  I couldn’t let go of the image of him, his jersey and the vision of Jesus playing football.

On the gridiron, Jesus had to be a quarterback. (Team doctors, servants of the injured, don’t have numbered jerseys.)

I assumed that if Jesus wasn’t calling the signals himself, they were being signaled in from the sidelines from his coach. Presumably that would be God, The Father.

Bear with me but I should add here another theological aside. I’m a “non-theistic” Quaker…I’ve dropped traditional notions of “God” (including "God the Father") from my spiritual life. Because of my experience with “God” (and, yes, my own Father, and myself as Father) these notions distance me from what we share.

I have come to call this shared oneness “spirit” though no word does it justice. It is beyond words and borders and…goal posts.

Back on the field, Jesus, our first-string, starting quarterback, is huddling with his team and about to call the play.

Set on victory, the fist-waving crowd yells and screams. The stadium rocks. It resounds. A few — many mothers of the players — pray.

All wonder… “What will Jesus call? What will Jesus do? What is God’s command?”

The young Jewish rabbi in the huddle pauses, looks each of his mates square in the eye and says: “This game is dangerous. It is hurtful. It breeds false values. It is devoid of love beyond the love of fame and temporal victory.” He pauses and adds, “Blessed are the meek.Their names shall not be emblazoned on football jerseys.”

Then he calls the play: “Cast off your protective gear! Head for the exits! Leave the stadium. Do good work!”

And so they race off the field leaving jerseys, helmets, shoulder pads and athletic “scholarships” behind them.

Among the jerseys on the field is one that reads “Jesus 1.” Someone sees it, picks it up and sells it to a young man in Beaverton.

The Gospel Truth?

We have a lively discussion group at our Quaker meetinghouse early Sunday mornings.

The leader of tomorrow's discussion sent out his ideas about the scheduled discussion topic. I thought you might find them interesting and even challenging.

The topic is:

“What Did Jesus Say
and What Does That Mean to Me?”

Jesus did not say many things we assume he said, and he said many other things people have found convenient to ignore.

He did not say he was God, nor that people should start a new religion in his name, nor that abortion or homosexuality were bad.

He did say that the meek and the peacemakers were his favorite people; that if a man hits you, do not defend yourself; and that you must love and honor those who mistreat you.

I would like us to discuss what Jesus said, and then I would like each one of you to state what Jesus’s message means to you. To get things started, this is what it means to me:

I believe Jesus said far more about social change than what little is stated in the Sermon on the Mount and elsewhere in the New Testament. I believe that is why he was murdered. I believe he was a real troublemaker, in the very best sense of the word, and that separates him from Confucius, The Buddha, Mohammed, Krishna, Moses, and the rest who started a major religion.

My reading of history is that the founders of religions, with the clear exception of Jesus, have generally tended to get along relatively well with existing civil authority. At least, they didn’t get themselves crucified. That is because none of them, except Jesus, declared that existing society was corrupt top to bottom and needed to be first ignored and then changed.

I believe the rest of them said, “Change yourself, one convert at a time, and eventually the world will change, too.” The civil authorities will accept that kind of change.

But Jesus proposed instead the Law of Upside Down, and for that, they killed him.

This is what I believe Jesus actually said in the Sermon on the Mount:

“You have heard it said, that you shall love your friend and hate your enemy. But I say to you, that you shall love your friend and also your enemy. You shall love him who hates you. You shall speak kindly of him who defames you. You shall help him who has tried to injure you. For if you love only him who loves you back, do not the Romans and (Re)publicans the same? How are you any better than they are? What have you learned following me?

“And if a man hits you, turn your cheek, so that he may hit you again. For if you take revenge for every wrong, do not the Romans and (Re)publicans the same? How are you any better than they are? What have you learned following me?”

So far, so good. You’ve heard the above 10,000 times. What follows is the part you haven’t heard, and this is what got him killed.

“You men are as obvious as dogs. You grow up, but you never grow wise. Every one of you wants to sleep with the prettiest girl in the room, and you mock her ugly sister. Every one of you honors the hero, and you laugh at the terrible toils of the common laborer.

"Every one of you exalts the rich man and pretends that he is wise, while you ignore the poor man and pretend he has nothing to say. Every one of you wants to be praised and recognized as some sort of great man, while you refuse to praise and recognize the greatness of others that is all around you.

"You middle-aged men will jump up out of your chairs to help a pretty young woman open a door, even though she has no need of your help. But let an ugly old woman need a door opened, and you sit on your behinds. She must fend for herself. And it is she who needs you.

“I say to you, turn it all upside down. Seek the ugly maiden’s favors, and she will weep for joy that you noticed her. She may also be ten times sexier, ten times kinder, ten times smarter, and ten times more likely to care about you and your future, than her pretty sister.

"Honor the common man, not the hero. The hero has more honors already than he can count. Ignore him, and seek out that man whose work is dangerous and underpaid, and make him your new hero.

"Ignore the rich man. He already has more so-called 'friends' than he can count, because of his money. He has no need of your friendship. Give it instead to the poor man, and ask for his opinions on the issues of the day. His wisdom will surprise you.

"Do not seek promotions, awards, medals, and honors. Seek instead to follow the examples of the ordinary people around you, and praise them for their works. If you watch them closely, you will find much to praise.

"Start living your lives the opposite of how you lived them before. Stop believing that you must cooperate with authority, or that you must be what your parents or teachers wanted you to be.

"Stop helping the existing order to crush our spirits. Stop continuing to do all those things that have made us so miserable for so many generations.

"Start living Upside Down."

The logical conclusion of such a message is a powerful challenge to secular and religious authority. It says that everything is open to scrutiny, to see if it does what it claims to do. It says that nothing is sacred, except treating people right. Ultimately, it says that no person has to right to tell any other person what is right or wrong or what one must do.

Today, in a liberal democracy, you might be able to get away with that kind of preaching. In 33 AD, it was treason.

So that’s what I think Jesus said. What do you think?

The Christmas Zombie

The family gathered on Christmas Eve. Those in their 30s talked of vampires and zombies — the latest craze. No one mentioned the birth in Bethlehem.

The conversation turned to encounters with spiders, ants and snakes. No one mentioned Jesus of Nazareth.

I was quiet, numbed by the banter, the stories and the weight of my years. With the Christmas tree glittering in the next room and the fire crackling in the fireplace, I too did not think of the child in the manger.

So we passed the evening disconnected from Christmas and its meaning. As I pulled the covers up around me after everyone had gone home, a restless unease settled on me. The discomfort was beyond Christmas and banter about creepy insects and corpses that stalk the streets. It was much bigger — about being, not about worrying or thinking.

Finally, I concluded I was much too tired to deal with the enormity. I surrendered to a place beyond words, and there, in the silence of the void, I sighed and fell asleep.

It was only on this morning of Christmas Day that I began to connect the frivolity and seeming meaninglessness of the night before with Jesus and his teachings. Zombies and vampire are about transformation, even resurrection, gone horribly wrong. The world of these creatures is one without hope. Are the myths, which are so much in vogue, a warning? Are they a wake-up call, just as the message of Jesus was? Can we be led to love by zombies, vampires as well as by Jesus' teachings?

Are these stories, whether horrible or hopeful, ways of making us aware before it is too late?

The Christian mythology, fabricated years after Jesus’ death, also sought to direct and, yes, strike fear in our hearts. Vampires and zombies emerged from societies aware of, even steeped in what Jesus taught and what others mythologized about his life.

It seems odd yet worthwhile to ask: Was Jesus a kind of zombie with a difference when he reappeared after death?

Finally, I asked myself on this Christmas morning before we open the gifts, who would we be without this searingly honest itinerant teacher who spread his truth two thousand years ago?

Who would I be?

And you?

How is the world different today because of this birth in the manger? How is this very moment different because of Jesus?

Who is Jesus to us? Does he, like all others we encounter, become part of us, and how has that inward spirit changed us?

Indeed, Quakers, of whom I am one, believe in such an “indwelling spirit,” the Christ within. Would we hold such a belief, would we experience it, without that birth in Bethlehem so long ago?

Vets portrayed as "Christian soldiers" at Tigard High

Bruce Adams, president of the local chapter of Americans United for Separation of Church and State, sent members and supporters (count me in!) this modern parable.

He writes:

Recently, a controversy arose over two videos that were shown for a Veterans Day Assembly at Tigard High School on November 5. One of the videos was of a speech by Oliver North to the National Rifle Association in 2009. Approximately a third of North's speech is about how religious the troops are.

The real controversy, however, is about the other video — a series of powerful photos of soldiers. There are pictures of death and mourning. It is accompanied by the song “Heaven Was Needing a Hero.”

As the song, about death and resurrection, ends, the screen turns black. Then a final picture appears and is frozen in silence. It is of a gauzy Jesus embracing a transparent soldier in the clouds.

After Willamette Week and then The Oregonian ran short articles, local Americans United members contacted Bruce, who, in turn called the Tigard District spokesperson and the high school principal. Both assured him they "understood the problem" (in Bruce's words) and said there was no intent to violate the principle of separation of church and state.

The principal explained that student leaders run the assembly and he did not know they were planning to show the videos. The presentation was "simply an oversight" (again, those are Bruce's words).

In Bruce's letter to members and supporters, he wrote that when he investigates such violations, he is often told, 'It is no big deal. Besides, no one complained about it.'

But some Tigard High School teachers did complain to the principal. And an anonymous person filed a complaint with the Oregon Teacher Standards and Practices Commission.

If you too are moved to complain, Tigard High School's principal is Mark Neffendorf and his e-mail address is mneffendorf@ttsd.k12.or.us.

After seeing the videos, I'll add that, beyond the question of the religious references, I am troubled at the dramatic glorification of war and fighting. Whatever happened to "Love your enemy"? Didn't that guy in the clouds have something to say about that?

Let's call these videos what they are: thinly disguised recruitment ads shown to their prime (and vulnerable) target audiences.

Doubting in the search for common ground

Sunday promises to be an interesting day. Some of us from our Quaker meeting are going to visit a Quaker church to experience how it conducts its services.

At our “unprogramed” meeting, we worship in silence. Our lack of doctrine and dogma makes us pretty much a theological blank slate.

The stirrings of spirit begin in inner stillness.

At “programed” or “pastoral” Friends churches, congregations have pastors and they worship, well,...we’ll see.

For decades, the divided Quakers have been trying to find common ground, or at least reach a better understanding of each other.

The Sunday visit, and a companion exchange visit to our meeting house in May, can be seen as part of that effort.

Those of us planning to make the trip Sunday, got a hint of what awaits us when we received a welcoming e-mail from the Church’s pastor.

He called the up-coming visit “exciting.”

To prepare us for pastoral, programed worship, he e-mailed the biblical text to be discussed Sunday.

As you might imagine, we “unprogramed” Friends are not prone to Biblical quotations or close reading of Biblical text. Our “text,” such as it is, is spoken out of the silence by those who are moved by the spirit to speak.

In silent worship, anyone has the potential of being a “minister.”

So what is the text the pastor forwarded?

It is John 20:19-29 and recounts how “Doubting Thomas,” on the day after the resurrection, came to believe that Christ was risen from the dead.

The passage begins with a stunner:

“When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”

Whoa! Hold it right there!

Wasn’t Jesus a Jew? Weren’t the disciples Jews?

Are we Quakers on the same page about that?

What’s with this “for fear of the Jews” business?

That’s a little like saying you lock your doors for fear of Americans, or Christians, or human beings.

No, Jews were on both sides of that locked door.

John is starting with a big credibility problem.

Talk about doubting!

This guy and/or his numerous translators and transcribers clearly have their own agenda. It’s called “enemy making.” Christ had some things to say about that.

Okay, with raised brow, let’s pick up on the passage:

“Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

Perhaps Jesus (or John) is saying that we should forgive the kind of prejudice we see in the first part of the passage. I’d like to think so. Could this be a candidate for common ground?

Most of what happens next in the passage focuses on Thomas, the infamous doubter. At this point, I’m with Thomas. I doubt too — not Jesus, but John.

As for the resurrection, my belief — and this could cast me into some kind of eternal damnation — is that the resurrection is no more and no less than one of history’s greatest metaphor.

In preparation for the excitement of our Sunday get together, the pastor has added “queries” for us to consider for discussion about John’s scripture:

One of them is: "What captures your attention from this passage?"

If the answers are anything like mine, they should clearly expose diversity and differences among Quakers.

Finding common ground will be exciting indeed. Not to prejudice the proceedings, but my guess is it resides beyond words, written or spoken.

The Truest Story

In the silence of this morning’s Quaker meeting, it occurred to me that I wouldn’t be sitting in this spartan sanctuary if it weren’t for the literal version of the New Testament story.

I’ve always tried to see through that over-the-top story to the historical Jesus. The Jesus who didn’t walk on water and feed the multitude. The Jesus who wasn’t resurrected. (Thomas Jefferson set out to tell the unadorned story in his “Jefferson’s Bible,” which I highly recommend.)

But the historical Jesus, the mere human being, wouldn’t have had anywhere near the same impact as the mythological Christ. He would have been, well, just another historical figure, or, worse, he might have been utterly forgotten.

In short, the story as it has come to be told (for whatever reasons) — not the historical events — had delivered me to a Quaker Meeting House, just as it has shaped the actions of millions of others, Christian and non-Christian alike. One of those Christians was George Fox, the most influential and fervent of the early Quakers. Without his responding to the story, there would be no Quakers, no meeting house in Portland Oregon.

And without those, I would be home nursing my third cup of coffee and reading the Sunday New York Times.

Such is the power of one story among billions of stories.

All events become some kind of story, be it gossip or gospel. Because of the distortions of perspective, time and memory, those narratives become half truths and — should they survive — myth.

We are guided by distorted narratives of events — large and small.

That may sound like a bad thing. In many cases it is. But in many instances, the truth may simply be too hard to take. Think of the Jesus on the cross who is not resurrected. The tragedy cries out for Christ's resurrection. The story tellers provided it as a triumph and a powerful story that survived.

Limited human perception and self-serving selection are filters for a reason. Without our ability to exclude we would suffer overload and even tragedy. Today we might call it post-traumatic stress.

So our stories are heavily edited. And, like the Biblical story, they are blatantly embellished.

For that reason, our "back story" should be one of caution, even scepticism.

Still, stories, for all their fabrication, undeniably motivate us, set our course and deliver us to our destinations.

Today, as I thought of the compelling Biblical story, I was reminded of dozens of other stories (about confusion, war, excess, greed, isolation, love, charity, joy and fulfillment) that had lead me to the silence at our meeting house.

Silence, I decided, tells the truest story.