After my post, I took the opportunity to sit down with Jesus at Starbucks. He came in disguise, wearing a Johnny Wier-designed androgynous outfit. He sported dreadlocks in his hair, “HATE” and “LOVE” tattoos on his hands, and a gold ring in his nose. He was quick to tell me that it wasn’t necessarily His style, but it was the best “get-up” for Salt Lake City.
Besides, He said, He didn’t want to freak out the Mormons who came to Starbucks for their morning coffee when they noticed Him there, drinking his favorite espresso with white, chocolate-flavored sauce and steamed milk, topped with sweetened whipped cream. He didn’t want them to have an excuse to let go of their guilt. He said it would be unfair. He told me that there is nothing better than guilt to put a bigger taste edge on something. He also remarked that I shouldn’t get any ideas since, as an immortal, He could eat or drink anything.
After the usual small talk about world penguin populations, free-range assisted living patients, and the Oscars, He invited me to pop the question: Would He bake a cake or build a theater set for a gay couple?
He smiled. He told me that he wasn’t going to let me off that easy and insisted I tell Him what Loren would do. I said that what I did wasn’t the point. It’s whether or not southern Baptist Bob, who had a public business of baking wedding cakes, should have to bake a cake for a gay couple.
He still insisted: What would Loren do?
I told Him I was a lawyer and felt that since the good taxpayers had helped provide a wonderful education, court system, and a secure society that had allowed me to become a lawyer, and to make a living providing a public service for those who needed my help in the courts, I wouldn’t turn away anyone whether they were black, female, Baptist, gay, or even claimed to be Jesus Christ. In fact, I told Him that Jesus Christ came in my office needing legal services just ten years ago, but that unlike him, this Jesus looked like a homeless man.
“And ...?” He asked.
I said, “Sure, if I offered a different public service, like baking cakes, I’d do the same. But that’s what I, Loren, would do. However, should Baptist Bob have to do it?” I asked, “Isn’t that a private matter?”
Jesus then took a big sip of his espresso, smiled, and asked, “Was it a private matter when the Missourians would not sell goods or property to your Mormon ancestors? Was it a private matter when hotels and restaurants wouldn't conduct business with blacks? Was it a private matter when Jews fleeing Nazi Germany were turned away and sent back to sure death? Would it have been a private matter if the reason there was no room for Mary to have a place to rest and give birth was because she had a child out of wedlock?”
“No,” I answered.
After a long pause, He said, “I don’t think that Jesus – at least not this Jesus – will condemn any person from engaging in commerce that provides food, shelter, clothing, work, healing, dignity, respect, equal protection, and even joy to all, whether in a cake, a movie set, or a beautiful song.” He then emphasized that it would serve us well to do so, even to those who are viewed by some as less worthy or less righteous.
“So . . .?” I asked.
Without looking at me, He then mentioned how wonderful life’s diversity is, because it puts to the test our ability to be decent and humane, and that if we served only those who we think deserved it, we would be no better than the most vile of beings. Then, He polished off His espresso, winked, and said goodbye.
Loren M. Lambert © March 4, 2014
Besides, He said, He didn’t want to freak out the Mormons who came to Starbucks for their morning coffee when they noticed Him there, drinking his favorite espresso with white, chocolate-flavored sauce and steamed milk, topped with sweetened whipped cream. He didn’t want them to have an excuse to let go of their guilt. He said it would be unfair. He told me that there is nothing better than guilt to put a bigger taste edge on something. He also remarked that I shouldn’t get any ideas since, as an immortal, He could eat or drink anything.
After the usual small talk about world penguin populations, free-range assisted living patients, and the Oscars, He invited me to pop the question: Would He bake a cake or build a theater set for a gay couple?
He smiled. He told me that he wasn’t going to let me off that easy and insisted I tell Him what Loren would do. I said that what I did wasn’t the point. It’s whether or not southern Baptist Bob, who had a public business of baking wedding cakes, should have to bake a cake for a gay couple.
He still insisted: What would Loren do?
I told Him I was a lawyer and felt that since the good taxpayers had helped provide a wonderful education, court system, and a secure society that had allowed me to become a lawyer, and to make a living providing a public service for those who needed my help in the courts, I wouldn’t turn away anyone whether they were black, female, Baptist, gay, or even claimed to be Jesus Christ. In fact, I told Him that Jesus Christ came in my office needing legal services just ten years ago, but that unlike him, this Jesus looked like a homeless man.
“And ...?” He asked.
I said, “Sure, if I offered a different public service, like baking cakes, I’d do the same. But that’s what I, Loren, would do. However, should Baptist Bob have to do it?” I asked, “Isn’t that a private matter?”
Jesus then took a big sip of his espresso, smiled, and asked, “Was it a private matter when the Missourians would not sell goods or property to your Mormon ancestors? Was it a private matter when hotels and restaurants wouldn't conduct business with blacks? Was it a private matter when Jews fleeing Nazi Germany were turned away and sent back to sure death? Would it have been a private matter if the reason there was no room for Mary to have a place to rest and give birth was because she had a child out of wedlock?”
“No,” I answered.
After a long pause, He said, “I don’t think that Jesus – at least not this Jesus – will condemn any person from engaging in commerce that provides food, shelter, clothing, work, healing, dignity, respect, equal protection, and even joy to all, whether in a cake, a movie set, or a beautiful song.” He then emphasized that it would serve us well to do so, even to those who are viewed by some as less worthy or less righteous.
“So . . .?” I asked.
Without looking at me, He then mentioned how wonderful life’s diversity is, because it puts to the test our ability to be decent and humane, and that if we served only those who we think deserved it, we would be no better than the most vile of beings. Then, He polished off His espresso, winked, and said goodbye.
Loren M. Lambert © March 4, 2014
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