Wanted: An answer to Clara's question

Recently I was reading to Clara, my three-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter. The book was a colorful little title from our Quaker meetinghouse’s nursery room. Clara was sitting on my lap engrossed.

I was unfamiliar with book about a mean and greedy king, and the more I got into its story the more I realized I was stepping into a theological thicket.

As the story came to its happy conclusion, the once selfish king became “kind and good.” The book has him becoming a “Christian.”

Where upon Clara turned to me and posed the obvious question: “What’s a Christian?"

I was literally struck dumb. I turned to a friend who was with me and suggested that she answer the question.

She too passed on answering.

And so the question was left hanging for us, for Clara and I hope, dear reader, for you.

A few days later, I shared this experience with my Bible Study class, an eclectic, unpredictable and collegial group. Most, but not all, consider themselves Christians.

One member, who happens to be a retired pastor, said I should have advised Clara, “You’ll know a Christian when you see one.”

I responded that with Clara that would simply invite more questions such as “What do I look for?”

Again, I would feel unqualified to answer.

What if she sees “Christian evidence” but the person turns out to be Jew or a Buddhist or a Muslim or, (heaven forbid!) an atheist or a secular humanist…

What if the person is deeply, profoundly NOT a Christian? Or perhaps only a “part-Christian.”

Oh, and by the way, what’s a Jew, Buddhist, Muslim, atheist and secular humanist?

And so forth….

Believe me, these questions are not beyond Clara’s asking.

There’s another question: Can you identify Christians by simply asking them if they are Christians?

If they say “Yes” can you be sure? Are they? If so, why? What if they do “un-Christian things”?

Which takes us back to square one: What is a Christian?

Your turn….

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.