What Does Jesus Do?

I think it’s pretty safe to say that most of us have heard of the phrase “What would Jesus do” or have seen the bracelets with the WWJD on them. It’s a good slogan which we have probably echoed to our very selves as we struggle with making a tough decision: “What would Jesus do?”—would he go to Mass on Sunday or stay home? For some, it has even become a kind of catch-phrase for giving advice: “what would Jesus do?”—you have a problem? well, what would Jesus do?

The last time my whole family got together to celebrate a birthday, a few of my relatives started a conversation about God and the Church and Jesus. A couple of them were talking about “going to Church” and how they were too busy with errands to go to Sunday Mass. I was listening to what they had to say—there is usually more to a story than what meets the eye. They talked about how they knew that missing Mass (except for a very important reason—like being very sick) was a “sin”—but that was all (and by “all” I mean, it was just a sin). The word “sin” had no meaning for them. It was like driving five miles over the speed limit or parking in a handicapped spot—you probably shouldn’t do it, but occasionally you “have” to (so long as no one gets hurt), they say.

Towards the end of the conversation, I was asked what I thought. Here, I could have talked about how Mass is more than simply an obligation—I could have talked about God as a loving Father who provides always for his children and how he longs to be united with us and how, at the Mass, we are united to him in a way beyond all ways. I could have talked about the cross and the resurrection and the sacrifice at the altar. I could have talked about how missing Mass is not simply a “sin”—a word without a meaning for many—but is like telling someone who loves you so deeply that you don’t love them like that or are too busy or that you want to be left alone. Then, at least, I would think that they would see Mass in God’s plan and as the center of his personal love. Mass wouldn’t be an obligation we have to fulfill; but, instead, Mass is an expression of God’s love for us which we can enter into and draw strength from and are changed into free, loving persons. We go to Mass because we love. Mass matters—not only because not going is a sin, but also because it’s how God loves us personally and how we personally love God.

But, I didn’t do that.

Instead, I asked a simple question—no, not “what would Jesus do”—but, rather, “what does Jesus do?”

You see, I think this question gets at the heart of the matter—and fast. Sure, I could have given them all the information above, but I probably would have come off as preachy (which is something that I tend to—and am struggling to overcome). And I could have asked them “well, what would Jesus do?” But, we all know their answer to that question. “Jesus would understand.”

But, would he? In fact, let's not speculate: does he?

The question “What does Jesus do” places Jesus right into the heart of the conversation—he is right here. Present. Looking at you. Active. Alive. Loving. You. Here. Right now. Really.

Faced with that question, we are less likely to turn Jesus into someone “out there” who “would do” something—who would love, if he were still here. Instead, when we ask “what does Jesus do,” we can’t help but think him to be present and alive here and now. We focus on him and what he is calling us to do, because he does it now.

Jesus says to you, right now: "I am with you always…"

Of course, I see the value in asking the question “what would Jesus do” as a kind of motivating force for what we should and should not do—that is, “if Jesus were here right now, what would he do if he was in my position?” And then, hopefully, we do what we think we see Jesus would do.

But Jesus is in your position. And Jesus is here right now. And what we think Jesus would do might not be how or what he actually does.

I would like to say that this new question was a cure-all for my relatives, but sadly they still said, “Jesus would understand.” And so they didn’t go to Mass that Sunday. Their answer to “what does Jesus do” was incorrect because they still did not know what Jesus does. They did not know that he is a person who loves. Them. Right now. Here. And so sin for them is just another word. And Mass is just another obligation that one has to fulfill.

Change in heart may take some time and will certainly take much prayer; but, at least now we are asking the right question.

Perhaps, as Catholics—not simply as ministers, but as Catholics—we need to teach Jesus and the Christian moral life not by asking the question “what would Jesus do” but by asking and answering the question “what does Jesus do.”

Then, I think, we would see that he doesn’t “understand” when we love things more than him—but instead, he weeps.