Scene I: Ancient Rome. Two strangers meet on a dusty road. Miles pass in polite conversation. Slowly and cautiously, oblique references to religious ideas slip in. Both sense a spiritual kinship but are wary of mentioning it. After all, Christianity is a crime punishable by death.
The sun is high and hot, so they stop to rest. The discussion moves from the latest war news to the price of bread to problems of the Roman Senate. The younger man pushes his walking stick through the dust as he talks, tracing a gently curved line.
The older man glances at the mark, then into the eyes of his new acquaintance and quickly around to see if anyone else is watching. With his own staff he draws a mirror image of the first mark, connecting the lines at one end but intersecting at the other. The two lines together form a crude drawing of a fish, a word used as an acronym in the underground sect's ancient Greek language for "Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior."
"He is risen!" exclaims the older man. "He is risen indeed!" comes the reply.
In excited whispers they arrange to meet the next evening. One will show the other the secret passages to the Christians' hiding place in the catacombs.
Scene II: Modern Rome. Two American tourists meet while waiting to clear customs. One wears a $50 golf shirt with a fish logo. The other sports a sky-blue baseball cap emblazoned on the crown in scarlet with the acronym, WWJD?
"Cool shirt," says one. "Great hat," says the other. They shake hands, exchange names and agree to meet the next day for cappuccino, "after we tour the catacombs."
What a difference two millennia make.
The cost attached to that original Christian icon was certain and severe. Display the secret fish symbol in the wrong place or at the wrong time and it could cost you your life.
In the 21st century, the cost for the individual Christian is much cheaper, and can even be paid with a credit card.
Multiplied by millions of consumers who now openly adorn themselves with the symbols of their faith, however, today's price tag for Christian imagery has reached proportions unimaginable to early disciples. Clothing, jewelry, bumper stickers and related merchandise bearing religious messages generate an estimated $3 billion a year.
But the spiritual value of those purchases is debatable, even among fellow believers.
Many say "Christian wear" is an effective witnessing tool. Others use derisive terms like "Jesus junk" and say it does more harm than good, especially if the actions of Christians don't match the message on their shirts.
Some things haven't changed over the centuries. Now, as then, Christian symbols remain a means of identifying "friendlies" in a dominant culture that is hostile to religious "fanatics."
But what was once a furtive code for a persecuted religious minority is now a mainstream fashion statement. Christians can wear their faith not only on their sleeves but also on their heads, around their necks, in their ears and on their backs. They can write with it, drink from it and listen to it.
The companies that sell such items uniformly say they create witnessing opportunities. "The average shirt is read 10,000 times!" touts Spiritual Wear on its Web site, www.spiritualwear.com. "You're just a click away from ordering some of the best Christian apparel available. Make a statement of faith with what you wear!"
"Proclaiming the Good News one tee at a time!" announces Kerusso Activewear. "With the right message and emphasis, a T-shirt can definitely help bring someone to Christ."
Living Epistles Apparel, whose Christian gear includes everything from clothes to mouse pads, describes itself as "a witnessing company dedicated to helping Christians creatively share the truth of the gospel and to create witnessing opportunities for Christians...." (www.livingepistles.com)
The Internet is just the latest angle on Christian marketing, but the products have been available for years through Christian bookstores. In fact the exhibit hall at the annual Christian Booksellers Association is crammed with as many "accessories" as books and Bibles, which now account for only 40 percent of sales at the average Christian bookstore.
Do these products deliver what they promise? Are they effective for evangelism?
Opinions cover the spectrum. But most people interviewed for this story say such items probably do a better job of identifying and encouraging Christians than attracting non-believers to the claims of Christ.
"I have a couple (Christian T-shirts) that were gifts that I wear, but I don't think of them as anything but shirts," said Andrea Valenzuela, a 22-year-old Ecuadorian who works for Nyack College in New York. "I hope someone will read the Bible verse and ask about it. But I would rather have my walk and my life -- my works, my everyday living -- speak louder than some easy-to-pull-on T-shirt."
Even the minister who instigated the "What Would Jesus Do?" explosion looks forward to the time the profitable sheen wears off her concept.
Slightly over a decade ago, Reformed Church minister Janie Tinkleberg came up with the WWJD bracelets for her youth group. She didn't copyright the idea, so anyone is free to produce WWJD items. As a result, the emblem has become almost as pervasive in pop culture as the Nike logo. But she doubts the fad is advancing the gospel.
"I think it has diluted the message," she told the Knight-Ridder News Service. "I want the fad to fade so [the concept] will wind up where it belongs -- back with people wearing them who know what these little bracelets really mean."
Kelli Creswell, 24, a native of Charleston, S.C., seconds that motion. "I think sometimes it's all overdone," she said. "Like the WWJD bracelets, the idea is great, but after a while the meaning is lost, because it becomes more about fashion than witnessing."
An unscientific Internet survey conducted by the Christian magazine FaithWorks about the value of Christian gear received 40 responses. Overwhelmingly respondents said the top two reasons people wear Christian icons are to "witness" and "because it is fashionable."
Most, however, were skeptical of the witnessing impact. More than 70 percent said Christian gear motivates non-Christians to consider faith "sometimes" or "rarely." Fewer than 25 percent felt it was highly effective.
All of respondents knew what WWJD stands for.
Ironically, William Benoit, one of several college professors interviewed for this article, admitted he didn't know what the letters mean. But he otherwise concurred with the survey results.
"I suspect bumper stickers and bracelets have the most effect on two groups: the people who wear or display them, as a manner of self-expression, and those for whom it is a 'hot button' topic, either agreeing or disagreeing fervently," said Benoit, who teaches rhetoric, persuasive speaking, argument and advocacy at the University of Missouri-Columbia. "I doubt that the people in the middle are much influenced."
Tom Collinear, a communications professor at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill., said the growing popularity of Christian gear could "signal a search for meaning at a time when the headlines are about things like Columbine, on the one hand, and dot.com/marry-a-millionaire/instant wealth on the other."
Two professors at Baylor University represent the range of opinions among many evangelical scholars -- from benign approval to passionate endorsement.
Greg Garrett, who teaches religion and literature at the Baptist-affiliated school in Waco, Texas, said he doesn't care for such icons personally. But he knows, "Many people see it as providing a genuine opportunity to spread their faith."
"Good for them," Garrett said, "especially if they can do it without alienating the people they want to reach."
Betty Talbert, meanwhile, who teaches spiritual formation, is overwhelmingly supportive. "Since the time of (Roman Emperor) Constantine, it has been difficult for Christians to maintain their religious identity while being accepted as a part of the culture," she said.
"Wearing a religious symbol -- a cross, a fish or a WWJD bracelet -- is a way some of us testify to ourselves and to others that our commitment to Christ is about everyday living and not just Sunday worship," she continued.
"Personally I like religious bumper stickers," Talbert said. "The first time I put one on my car I did so with fear and trembling. I was a university professor who had just encountered Christ in a deep conversion experience. I knew that people might laugh at me, but I felt it was important to place a symbol of my new allegiance on my car."
Talbert said how a person feels about such public displays of Christian messages is more an issue of personal taste than theology. "I think it is very important not to judge those who do or do not display their religious commitments in their dress," she said. "One thing we know that Jesus would never do is treat a person with condescension."
Guy Mattox, a retired pastor from King George, Va., said Christian T-shirts gain the most value when they are baptized with the sweat of hard work. "If someone is wearing a shirt that says he is a follower of Jesus while he is replacing gutters or reshingling a roof or rebuilding a porch, then they are worthy of the name they are claiming," he said.
Nearly 40 years ago, Mattox presented his gas credit card for payment to a service station attendant who was in the process of exhibiting an impressive demand of profanity. When the man saw "the Reverend" in front of the name on Mattox's card, he apologized profusely.
Mattox went home, cut up all his credit cards and had them reissued without his clerical title. His reasoning? Christianity isn't viable if it can be detected only by a title on a card. "If there is not something about my life and my attitude that says I belong to Christ, then I don't deserve the honor (just) because I graduated from a theological seminary," he said.
Les Switzer, a seminary graduate and professor of journalism at the University of Houston, meanwhile, suspects there may be more behind the Christian gear craze than meets the eye.
The Protestant Reformation ended for many Christians the use of icons in worship and the sale of "indulgences," a method of paying cash as penance for sins. Switzer said he finds a parallel in today's Christian paraphernalia.
"Could I suggest that, in some convoluted way, this is an Americanized, sanitized form of indulgence?" he said. Spending money to "obtain an icon" in the form of a shirt or bumper sticker, he said, may help some Christians "deal with their sins, absolve them of guilt or at least to make them feel more comfortable?"
"It's kind of like a talisman," he said. "And of course most of us can't get along without one, whether it's in the form of a trinket, a cross or even a Bible."
___________________
Craig Bird and his wife, Melissa, are child-care workers at a maternity home in Asheville, N.C. (c_mbird@hotmail.com)
