“Jesus Gets Us”

I’m watching the Texans play terrible football against the worst team in the NFL (if they pull this out, it’ll still be ugly*), and one of those “Jesus Gets Us” ads comes on. Now I don’t dislike this campaign. It doesn’t offend my delicate sensibilities, or anything. I considered whether I had a theological objection; and I do.

But it’s really an ecclesiological objection.

“Jesus gets us” is not objectionable. But it puts all the onus on Jesus. Now, I believe in Jesus. I’m an ordained Christian minister. But I’ve never met Jesus. I’ve only met his followers, his adherents, his disciples (ideally). And if they don’t get me, I don’t care what Jesus “gets.”

Words are cheap. Actions have meaning. Actions are hard.

I know there’s a problem in Protestantism of a “cult of personality” around the pastor. It’s not the same in the Catholic Church (and less so among Episcopalians, who are largely “Catholic lite”). I attended a Catholic funeral recently, and the homily was downright excruciating. The family had asked the priest to return to their parish church to memorialize their father. And his homily was largely about how he (the priest) had built that church. Meaning literally, as in the building.

I was professionally appalled, to be honest. The Catholics around me took it in stride. Their connection was less to the priest than to the Church, and they accepted this priest as he was, anyway. A man whose life was devoted to the Church, because he had nothing else to devote it to. Don’t get me wrong: the life of a priest or a pastor is inherently a lonely one (especially if, as a Protestant, you don’t have the full support of the power brokers in your congregation). I remember talking to a Catholic in training for the priesthood thinking a family was just an impediment to holy orders, because it was hard to uproot them and move as the denomination required. He wasn’t wrong (and that’s part of why it’s a lonely calling). But listening to that priest that day, I realized Rome hadn’t solved that problem, either.

Church, in other words, is the people. It’s not just, or primarily, Jesus. If you don’t find Jesus there, or at least followers of Jesus, it doesn’t matter what Jesus “gets.” Because you won’t get it.

I’ve been a part of several congregations in my life, before, during, and after seminary. The good ones didn’t have to tell me “Jesus gets you.” I knew that from them (and I don’t mean they were uniformly spiritually or theologically sound. I mean, rather bluntly, that they weren’t all baptized heathens (some always are.) Sometimes they baptized heathens are the reason  to be there; as long as they’re a numerical minority). I mean they were dominated by good people trying to be good to each other, and do some good in the name of Jesus. If Jesus “gets you,” it’s because his followers get you. Even Jesus said so:

“Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.”

The problem with the ad campaign is that, ultimately, it’s selling salvation. So I guess my problem with it is soteriological, too. According to the more reductive siteriologies, salvation requires a personal relationship with Jesus. I still remember when a young girl (I was her age at the time) asked me if I had accepted Jesus “into my heart.” Not, did I believe; that was a given. But was Jesus allowed into my heart? I told her quite reasonably that I didn’t think there was room in the left or right ventricle for Jesus. I’m pretty sure she marked me down as damned, and moved on.

Granted, she wasn’t explaining that Jesus “got” me. She was really asking, did I “get” Jesus. But either way you point the issue, the question is the same: “Are you saved?” And back when I still believed in the soteriology of that kind of “salvation” I always answered: “I certainly hope so!”

Yeah, I was kind of a dick.

So: does Jesus get us? It’s a better theology than the “Jesus loves me, but he can’t stand you” theology I grew up around (speaking of “baptized heathens”). I like the idea that Jesus accepts us (I mean, I grew up on the Westminster catechism that “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” So, you know, Jesus has to accept us. We’re not worthy ab initio. Yeah, that’s part of that soteriology I discarded.). But what kind of sales pitch is that?  It’s an ad campaign, so what is it selling?

Comfort, basically. Nothing wrong with comfort, mind. But then Jesus shows up and calls you to follow, and you say “But I have to bury my mother,” and Jesus says: “Leave the dead to bury the dead. You go and proclaim the basileia tou theou.” Or Jesus tells you the story of the Wonderful Father, and you realize the father gave his younger son what he asked for, and when it was squandered and the son returned the father used the older son’s wealth (the father having given it all away to his sons) to throw a fete to celebrate the prodigal’s return. And when the older son (quite reasonably) objects, the father says “Your brother, my son, was dead. Now he’s alive!” And do you stand on your pride, like a dick? Or do you welcome your lost brother back to life?

I’ve lost my brother. I’d gladly welcome him back to life. But how do you not ask yourself: “How is the basileia tou theou like that?”

And maybe you start thinking that Jesus may get you, but do you get Jesus?

It’s a two-way street, you know.

*The Texans won in pretty much the manner the Chiefs did: by one touchdown, in the last quarter (last seconds, for Houston). The team that wins gets to the playoffs, so long as they keep doing so. Anyway…