WWJD?

In the not-so-distant past (as Baby Boomers measure such things), a bumper sticker enjoyed a brief spurt of popularity. It prominently displayed four letters, WWJD, and, usually in smaller print, the phrase What Would Jesus Do? I payed no attention to it at the time.

Years later, this admonition came back to me from out of the blue one day and I've been haunted by it since. I consider myself a spiritual person, but not an especially religious one. Yet the WWJD slogan has brought me quite a bit of introspection. Being me, of course, I couldn't just think of it as a cute moral reminder, but instead had to explore it in great detail. People love that about me.

The man Jesus had a message, just as did Buddha, Muhammed and many other wise persons throughout history. For me, at least, his teachings have often become submerged in the more divine attributes of The Christ and so he was cataloged and stored in memory according to the exhortations of red-faced Baptist ministers of my youth and the persistent preachings of the Jehovah's Witnesses sharing my suburban landscape. For years I thought only of the symbol when I thought about the subject at all.

The return of WWJD? brought me a new line of thought. If he were to walk today's streets (being from US suburbia, that's where I set the scene for my musings), what would he look like and what would he say? Over time, my imagination ditched the desert robe for jeans and a T-shirt, cleaned up the hairdo a bit and switched out various ethnic front ends. In other words, I made him into a face in the crowd so that if he stands out at all it will be by something other than an outlandish appearance.

Thinking back to exceptional people I've known or learned of, I expect Jesus the man would stand out, even wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie. I think the gentle peace of his nature would be noticeable against the aggressive flurry of the mall crowd, that his quiet sense of self would contrast against the eager shuffling of the supermarket lines and his unhurried pace would certainly mark a man living in the moment rather than rushing off to the future. Of medium build, appearing fit and healthy, without piercings or green hair or any physical oddity to speak of, I believe the aura of tranquility sliding across my hectic path would demand attention.

The most outstanding effect the man would radiate, however, would be his message itself. I expect he would walk the talk. He would smile at children, pause to sit beside the lonely woman with pain written across her face, offer his position in line to the mother with her four kids and full cart. He would share positive comments and kind acts with everyone and anyone. He would speak in simple, respectful language using quiet tones. Courteous, of course, but managing to be so with few empty words; his speech would have meaning.

I don't picture him on stage or with a microphone. Perhaps those images carry too many connotations of commercialism. Instead, he shares wisdom with people he meets in the daily crowd, stopping to sit with shoppers around a mall bench or on a street corner, listening carefully to their opinions and worries, interjecting simple questions that naturally lead the listener to deeper introspection. Non-confrontational. Friendly. Insightful. Peaceful. A nice guy who focuses on teaching love and change without preaching disharmony or guilt.

My imagination strips away the trappings that distance this holy and wise man from a self I've been told is sinful, unworthy and laden with guilt-inducing baggage. It returns him to the role of simple wandering teacher that impacted so many lives in a distant time and place. In peeling back the veneer of centuries of idealization, I find something that I never saw from the church pew: a message for living rather than a plan for after death.

I like to do right by people. I am most pleased with myself when I find I've stuck to the route laid out by my moral compass. Sometimes in the heat of events I need a reminder to stop for a moment and reflect on the course I'm about to take. And sometimes when this moment is immanent, into my mind pops WWJD? and into my mind comes the picture of an ordinary-looking man with a message. And he gives me pause.

I don't think it matters whether I use Jesus or any similar figure during these moments. What matters most is that I hear the message, that it is gritty and real and sensible. Not a gilded idealistic untouchable commandment wrapped in layers of distancing holiness, but rather a practical and immediate bit of advice I can apply to this moment in my life.