If you have a teenage son, you may have seen the Will Ferrell movie Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. If you don’t have a teenage son, you may have missed it, and you may be happy that you missed it. Cinematic genius it’s not. However, this movie contains one of my very favorite scenes of all time. NASCAR driver Ricky Bobby (Will Farrell) and his sidekick Cal (John C. Reilly) are seated at the dinner table with Ricky’s family, and Ricky says “grace” before the meal. If you are not easily offended and can leave your sense of propriety and decorum here, check out this YouTube clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5A0-u85aAYg. By the way, the prayer is over a little after minute 3, so you can stop there if you’d rather not see Ricky’s boys Walker and Texas Ranger verbally abuse their grandfather.
What I love about this scene is both the satire of what one prays for (“Thank you for my red-hot smoking wife” and the “21.2 million dollars”) and to whom one prays (“Little 8 lb. 6 oz. newborn infant Jesus”). The first time I saw it I was struck by the notion that each family member had a particular Jesus they preferred: adult, bearded Jesus (the traditional Jesus); Jesus in a tuxedo t-shirt singing lead vocals for Lynyrd Skynyrd (the informal Jesus who likes to party); Jesus as a ninja fighting evil samurai (super-hero Jesus); and Baby Jesus in his “golden fleece diaper” (Christmas Jesus).
But that scene also made me think about how I imagine Jesus in my prayers. While Ricky Bobby likes Baby Jesus best, my favorite Jesus is “Hippie Jesus,” bearded, cool, all about social justice and loving everyone. Hippie Jesus, for me, is like your older brother’s best friend who you have a crush on, but you know it will never work out. He’s always nice to you, but you realize he’s way out of your league.
When I was growing up, our family rarely went to church, so my “formal” theology was fixed by my father’s appreciation of the album Jesus Christ Superstar which was released when I was about 7 years old. We had it on 8-track for the car; the music would blare from the rear speakers, and occasionally my dad would chuckle, although at the time I never understood what was funny. 
We also had the double album, complete with song book containing all the lyrics. I would sit in front of the Hi-Fi with that book and sing as loud as I could (if you have ever heard me sing, you would know that I had extremely loving and patient parents). As I look back, I realize that I fell in love with the “Hippie Jesus” of Jesus Christ Superstar without ever actually seeing him—the album and song book contained no pictures, much to my distress. But I was transfixed and mesmerized by “Jesus Christ Superstar Jesus” and, well, I guess I still have a crush on him.
Is it ok to have a “favorite” Jesus, I wonder? In the scene, Cal imagines Jesus in a tuxedo t-shirt singing with Lynyrd Skynyrd. Should we be offended by that? When my son was little, he imagined Jesus as center fielder for the Chicago Cubs. I figured Will thought the only way the Cubs would ever win a world series in his lifetime is if Jesus was on the team!
In 2002 Popular Mechanics used forensic science to recreate what the historic Jesus might have looked like. Is this the Jesus we should be praying to?
What about a black Jesus? Since Jesus was middle-Eastern, he was probably much darker-skinned that most of us Americans have traditionally envisioned him.
Is there a danger to creating the Jesus we want to know? Does it make Jesus less of a divine savior and more of the god we want him to be? Or do you suppose that Jesus is just happy that we are thinking of him—and, hopefully, in relationship with him? I honestly don’t know. I do know, however, that one of my weaknesses in imagining “Hippie Jesus” when I pray is that I emphasize the human qualities of Jesus, which make me more comfortable. The almighty power of Jesus as God, especially the idea of divine judgment, makes me a little nervous. (I’m not sure I’m going to make the cut)! But when I come right down to it, I believe that Jesus understands our human limitations in knowing him; loves us in spite of ourselves; and delights in our reaching out to him in any way we can. “Hippie Jesus,” at least, has a “wicked” sense of humor, and I like to think the scene from Talladega Nights makes him chuckle and maybe shake his head at the truth behind the humor.
So who’s your Jesus? Shepherd Jesus? Little Baby Jesus? Baseball Jesus? I’d love to know what YOUR Jesus looks like.
A Little Lee-Way 