And Business Insurance Hadn't Even Been Invented!

 

"Well,” Josh said, as we drove home from soccer practice. “Betsey's mad at Jesus again.”

"Oh, no," I thought, but I just said, "Why?" I was surprised that she had just told him and not refused to go to Sunday School, Last time she hadn't liked the fact that Jesus had driven a legion of demons into a herd of pigs, who promptly threw themselves off a cliff and drowned.

"She says he's a racist."

That was a new one on me. "Why?"

"Because when Jesus killed those pigs, he ruined their owner's business and he probably had to become a beggar. But since he was a Gentile, Jesus didn't care. So that makes him a racist."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. "I'll have to talk to her." I wasn't sure how to handle this. I decided to just take her aside or wait until I was taking her somewhere, but Josh beat me to it, maybe because we were having pork chops. Betsey is still not eating meat, although I did get her to agree to eat something that would eat her. But I haven't been able to find any shark or bear or alligator meat. Not that I'm looking all that hard.

Cilla had decided that she was "too young to make that decision." This is probably the only time she has ever been glad to be too young to do something.

"You know," Josh said, "If those pigs hadn't drowned, they would have been killed anyway." We all knew what he was talking about. The pig theological crisis has become a family legend already.

"That's not the point," Betsey said. "He shouldn't have done it. And he was mean to the pig's owner. He ruined his business.  He couldn't even have a going out of business sale, because he didn't have anything left to sell."

"Tell Mom why he did it." Josh likes a good debate. Or maybe he just wanted to give her a hard time. But Betsey seemed glad to get the opportunity to develop her point.

"Because the pigs' owner wasn't Jewish. Jesus didn't care what happened to him. He probably thought it served him right."

"Served him right for what?" Now Cilla was in on the discussion.

"For not being Jewish."

"Tell Mom what that makes him." I don't know why Josh kept telling her to tell me. Ed was right there.

"A racist."

Ed looked up from his potatoes and dropped his fork.

"A what?"

"A racist. That's a person who . . ."

"I know what a racist is. You should never call anyone that. It's like the n-word."

"But a person who would use the n-word is a racist. So couldn't you call them a racist?"

"Well . . " Ed had to think for a minute. I didn't say anything. I was enjoying not having to answer the questions for a change. Finally he got an idea. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

"And anyway, we don't know any racists." I was shocked at myself. I sounded like my mother, who could never see the point of talking about something in theory, except in science.

"But we might someday," Cilla said, almost with horrified anticipation, like we might know a vampire someday.

"And we know Jesus."

"Don't say that, Betsey." Cilla was getting upset. "You'll hurt His feelings and the Blessed Virgin Mother's."

"The Blessed Virgin Mother is probably embarrassed for Him anyway."

I didn't know what to say. I wondered if it would be cowardly to change the subject. Fortunately, Josh had gotten bored and wanted to know what was for dessert.