"Is he a Kristen or a Lobster?" Jane asked this morning as we headed west on Guadalupe, while zipping her Sun Chips into her backpack and giving them a loving pat through the pink satin.
I had been trying to drown out the distasteful conversation (which included, but was not limited to, the hilarious possibilities of getting run over by a cow, and poop and farts) with The Eagles Greatest Hits, Volume 1.
I turned down the music. Tommy's head stopped bouncing, but he didn't complain. I glanced at him in the rear view mirror, where he gave me the sign for 'more' and said what only his Mother can understand is 'blueberries'. Blueberries account for about 50% of his total food comsumption this week. I got him some raspberries and blackberries, but he won't touch 'em. You should see the black poop. (More potty talk. Sorry.)
Back to Jane's question. The one I didn't understand. "What, Jane? Who?"
"Josh in my class. Is he a Kristen or a Lobster?"
I am lost, but I am starting to think that this'll be fun. I'd rub together my palms in anticipation, but I might wreck my awesome blue van.
"Like, you know, what Church does he go to?" Jane elucidates. (Jane talks like a Valley girl. I wonder where she got that?)
"You mean a Christian? Well, yes, he is. His family were our neighbors in Gilbert, so they went to Church with us. They are Mormons. What is a Lobster?"
"I dunno. Another kid in my class told me he is a Lobster."
I start throwing out religions that start with L or have a short O vowel sound.
Jane has her answer and is losing interest in being grilled about Lobsters. Ross chimes in:
"What are Lutherans and Protestants?"
So I start with the Catholics, and mention Martin Luther and the 95 Theses. (I am feeling good because I can finally use a little of what I learned in the "History of Christianity" class I took at the U of A, which was really only about Catholics because the Prof was a friend of the Pope or something. I'm not sure I'll ever have use for all the First Council of Nicea info I've got stored somewhere up in my bean.)
I pause for a moment while Ross snickers because he thinks I said 95 feces.
Then I quickly explain (this is taking longer than it did in real life) that all of them (including the rest of the Protestants and their ilk, Lutherans and progeny-sects like Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Unitarians, etc...) are Christians with different ideas on the way Christ's Church on earth should be run and who has authority to do it.
"Are Vegetarians a kind of Protestant?" Jane queries.
Jane grimaces and grunts. She is like an expert grunter. Extra deep, throaty, and menacing for an almost-seven-year-old.
"Many are, but not eating meat it isn't a religion, exactly." (Except maybe for the Lobsters.)
"Did that guy get in trouble for nailing stuff on the Church? Were any of his complaints real?" Ross says quickly.
"Um, yes. And yes." I replied. "He made some good points and a lot of people listened." Not the Pope, though, not at first.
There is sort of a long pause. I figured they were all back there pondering Martin Luther. I have a warm, good-mother feeling in my heart.
Ross finally pipes up: "How do you spell feces? What if you got run over by a cow and landed in feces?"
Hardy har har.
I lost their attention before I got to tell them that we aren't Protestants (nor will most Protestants claim us even as fellow Kristens), but it was due to men like Martin Luther, that Joseph Smith had a bible in English to read. It was due to itinerant Protestant preachers with wildly differing doctrines, that the confused 14-year-old Joseph went into the woods to pray, and saw God and his son Jesus.
I never found out what a Lobster is.
Probably not a Kosher-keeping Jew.