W.W.J.D.

WWJD, What would Jesus do?
Wow! Now that’s pressure! There is no way that I could live up to such high standards, so I have adopted a personal Acronymic Mantra for myself, also WWJD, but the J in my WWJD now stands for James, Jesus’ little brother.

I figure James had to be a pretty good kid, being from that family and all, maybe someone I could relate to. He had a big brother; I have a big brother. I was raised in the Church; his brother’s married to the church. My older brother was ‘Mr. Perfect...’ you see the similarities.

I thought I had pressure growing up, my older brother has a masters degree! His older brother’s nickname was Master.

My brother used to always look down on me as a lesser being, from what seemed like this lofty perch of favor, put there by my parents. Jesus’ Dad also elevated his Son to a God-like status.

Just imagine being James. I can hear Mary
saying, “Who broke this pot”, or “someone’s been drinking right out of the goat-milk jug, and I know it wasn’t Jesus”, “Why is there lamp oil on my best Persian rug”? He was sunk before he started. Jesus doesn’t break pots.

I wonder if that made James rebel more than a normal child, I’m guessing it did. I bet he tried every trick in the book, trying to slip something by his older brother and his mom. He couldn’t break curfew, his older brother could not tell a lie when asked by his mother when James really got home. Jesus wasn’t necessarily a tattle-tale, just incapable of lying.

“Mom, Jesus is staring at me!”, “Oh no honey, it just looks like that, his eyes seem to follow you around the room.” Or, “Mom, Jesus hit me!” “Now James, we both know that’s not true, apologize to your brother” “James, if you don’t stop fighting with your brother, I’m going to turn this ass around and go right back home.”

Do you think Jesus was a straight A student? He had to know all the answers. How fair is that. “A” honor roll every quarter, teachers pet, never in detention. Poor James. His self-esteem must have been rock bottom.

I wonder if Jesus called him Jimmy, and what did Jimmy call his older brother. Jesus? Christ? Was Christ his last name? Did he have a middle name? Did Jimmy ever take his brother’s name in vain? If he said his brother’s name loudly, did his mother wash out his mouth with soap? So many questions.

Recently I have learned of a school of thought that many refuse to acknowledge. It seems that some believe the first miracle, turning water into wine, occurred at Jesus' own wedding. Blasphemous, I know. But what if it were true. The scripture paints Jesus's mother as the one in charge at this wedding, giving orders and such. In the Jewish faith at that time, only the grooms mom would have had that kind of control. There are also some that say the "Last Supper" painting includes Jesus' wife seated directly to his right.

This opens up all kinds of cans of worms. Men everywhere were cringing knowing that the perfect husband was now installed, setting the bar higher than any mortal could ever hope to achieve.

Imagine the women talking over coffee. Typically they will berate and talk badly of the men in their lives, never quite admitting that secretly, deep down, they were more or less happy. If you happened to have a wife that hung out with Mrs. Christ, you were s.o.l. Here's a guy that always called if he was going to be late, brought flowers for no apparent reason, and quite probably OFFERED to rub his wife's feet. Who can compete with that. He would never forget a birthday, anniversary, or important date of any kind. I bet he would celebrate a new hairstyle, notice her new robe etc. He's sensitive, strong, handsome, has kind, gentle eyes, and here's a husband that really DOES know everthing. If he was asked a question in the middle of the forest and no one was there to hear, he would always be right. As a man in that community, you would not have a chance.

" You know, Jesus cleaned the entire house, washed clothes, and cooked dinner, all without even being asked. His wife is so lucky!" "Oh yeah? Well He is the son of God, you know. I could do that too, if I were a Deity!" No man had a chance, if all this is true. I know I wouldn't hold up under the scrutiny if he lived in my neighborhood.

He doesn't, so it doesn't really matter. My wife loves me for who I am, not for who I could be if I had had a different "Father." I guess that's okay, and I can stay the course knowing I'm doing the best I can. W.W.J.D.